Krystyna Kofta: I fell ill at my own request. I’ve been breeding this cancer for eight years

Krystyna Kofta, writer and columnist, contracted breast cancer several years ago. She described the fight against cancer in the book “Lewa, memory of the right hand”. In a sincere confession, she admitted that she had not performed preventive examinations. When she felt a lump in her breast, the diagnosis was clear. The writer shared her memories of the period of illness and recovery.

1. The woman dropped the first symptoms of the disease to the menopause – she thought that headaches, weakness, weight loss were normal symptoms of the menopause
2. I practically fell ill on my own request. I’ve been breeding this cancer for eight years. I thought, like most people, that if it doesn’t hurt, then nothing is wrong – she says
3. What was the treatment and recovery like?
4. You can find more such stories on the TvoiLokony home page

Krystyna Kofta – breast cancer

In 1996, I went through a very severe depression. I just stopped getting out of bed. Today I think it was the beginning of my cancer. Psyche tried to send a signal that I should take better care of myself. I wish I had disregarded it. If I had been thoroughly tested then, I might not have grown such a tumor. The doctor said after removal that he was about eight years old.

It seems to us that we know our body, that we know everything about it and that it will certainly let us know if something goes wrong with us. But I was in the “climacteric” age and I blamed everything on this climacteric. My head hurts, I lost a little weight, I often feel faint – it’s all menopause. Meanwhile, this tumor grew steadily. If I had been examined every year – as it should be at the age of 50 – you would have caught him, he would have been small and I would not have lost a breast.

January 4, 2002, Friday

I was eating an avocado with a thick sauce, there must have been some bloody seafood in it that I’m allergic to. And Janusz Głowacki, a pub connoisseur, warned me: “Whenever you are not sure what’s inside, take a relaxed duck.” And he was right. On my way back home, I was going with the TV driver, because after the meeting I took part in the program, and suddenly on the Poniatowski bridge I say to the driver: “I know that it’s not good for a lady, but I’m going to throw up right away”, and he said that the lady should do everything , stopped, I opened the car door and let go of the peacock.

All my life I try to be in shape, but I don’t like the gym. I practice alone, at home. And one day, when I was practicing on the home rowing machine, I felt a pain in my chest, and after training in the shower, I felt a distinct tumor in this place.

May 10, 2002, Friday

Former Małgośka Domagalik. We haven’t seen each other for a long time. Looks good, hardly any makeup. I don’t know what made me tell her about what’s been bothering me for the past two months. Which I didn’t tell anyone. Anyone. I didn’t even write to avoid the topic. Out of fear. An ostrich with its head in the sand, its butt unstuck. It’s me on this. It started to hit me in my dreams. Thoughts appeared during the day, confused the mind, stopped work. I’ve been groping my right breast for two months. I sense something strange in her. Thickening. This wasn’t there before. At first I thought it was from the rowing exercises. The muscle has worn out. But why on the one hand? Małgośka spotted this place, phoned immediately and asked me to visit one of her friends with whom she was meeting at the women’s club. It is said that Dr. Monika N., a surgeon, is one of the best hands in Warsaw. It’s about cutting, of course, so it sounds scary to me. I am supposed to call her on Sunday night and make an appointment for Monday. I guess I must have told you about it already. I am scared, but I try to do everything as usual.

I practically fell ill on my own request. I’ve been breeding this cancer for eight years. I thought, like most people, that if it doesn’t hurt then nothing is wrong.

The rest of the text below the video.

Although in 2002 I was already the secretary of the Pink Ribbon (a foundation dealing with the fight against breast cancer – ed.), I did not test myself. I went to the gynecologist regularly, but she never examined my breasts or ordered a mammogram. The first such examination was done to me just before the operation. It is unthinkable today, but those were slightly different times. Irena Santor, who was also active in the Pink Ribbon, repeatedly persuaded me to do a test, and I dismissed her.

May 13, Monday.

We went with Mirek to the Oncology Center. First, breast maltreatment at the mammogram. Repeated study. I can see a shadow. This is the so-called loss of shadow. Doctor Monika will do the biopsy herself. Focusing. I am lying on the bed. Waiting for the shot. A biopsy is a shot in the chest with a large syringe like a gun. A moment of waiting. To talk? – asks the doctor. Speak – I answer. You have cancer. Short and knotty. Is he malicious – I ask nonsense. Every cancer is malignant – says the doctor. I dress in a light trance. I go out to see Mirek, who is waiting in the hall. I tell him: I have cancer. And he said: how is this possible? How do you know so immediately? You know. I cry on his shoulder like in one of those horrible movies we’ve never watched.

I was white as a wall. Shocking. After the diagnosis, we called a family council. Husband, son and me. My son, Wawrzyn, is a genetic biologist, he can read research. He said I needed an operation as soon as possible.

May 16, Thursday

The visit is scheduled for 18.30. We are punctual. All days are connected by what awaits me. Nothing really disturbs the peace at home, although I have been doing a whole series of research. I’m not panicking. Today we are all going, together with Wawrzyne to Wawelska, to find out the details and communicate the decision I made. I found out that my cancer is called lobular, it is extremely nasty, it has tiny branches called Indian pathways. So I have a title, if not a book, then at least a column.

(…) It is possible to carry out a conservative surgery – says the doctor. However, upon reflection, when I have a complete set of tests and I have consulted the whole matter with Mirek and Wawrzyn, I say that I want them to do mastectomy radical, I want them to cut off my whole breast.

I had surgery a few days later. Privately. I was saving up for a rainy day all my life and it just arrived, so I decided to pay. Before I went to the hospital, I had all my errands – bank, private, work-related. I was afraid that I would die.

May 20, Monday

At 11 am we set off on an expedition. Mirek, Wawrzyn drives us by car, and me. They will return from this trip, and I will be left alone in the hospital. At 10 am I don’t eat anything, I don’t drink anything. The operation is scheduled for around 18.30 pm. At 14 p.m. I was left alone. I have my own room. Nurses come, then the anesthesiologist asks about allergies and so on. You will get something reassuring. Will I be awake? Yes. And then we’ll anesthetize. White oblong tablet with a line in the center. They call her stupid Johnny. This is the only food I get. Lying on the bed, I swallow it without drinking it. Memory is replaced by stone unconsciousness.

During my illness, the most important thing for me was the support of my loved ones. The son and husband really rose to the occasion. Mirek was with me from the moment of diagnosis until the end of chemotherapy. Laurel went to chemistry with me. Sometimes they let me forget about my illness.

June 2, Sunday

I’m starting chemotherapy soon. Eight sessions, one every three weeks. This is poisoning the cancer and poisoning me at the same time. We’ll see how we can survive it. Hair comes out, weakens cruelly. Apparently, you vomit after each session. But I have to have it, because I also have two inflammatory lesions in the lymph nodes out of 29 excised ones. Not much, but a lot for me. Next week, I’m going to buy a wig to get chemotherapy. I’m full of power for now.

The hardest time was when the hair came out in handfuls. It was so humiliating that I decided to shave myself bald without waiting for them to fall out on their own. My husband immediately went to get the razor. He shaved me. Then, in a gesture of solidarity, it cut itself to zero. I stopped my son.

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The entire time I was out of hair, I wore a wig. When I left the house, I put it on like a cap.

Wednesday, August 21

There were mostly lying days. Changed taste, loss of appetite. I don’t want to be emaciated like those transparent ghosts from oncology waiting rooms. I was forcing myself to eat. Mirul was cooking compotes for me. I ate yoghurts and kefirs. I can’t look at the meat. This will change once I overcome my aversion to food. I want to be strong, although sometimes I have the impression that weakness is friendlier, that the weaker I am, the less pain. It’s not true. Such weakness only causes drowsiness. And I want to be present, even in suffering. Fantastic! I have an appetite for herring!

At first, my hair was growing back like caracul fur – black, gray, and curly, although I hadn’t had a single gray hair before my illness. I didn’t know whether to be happy or to cry. Fortunately, these have worn off and others have grown back. The hairdresser then came up with a new short haircut for me and dyed my hair blonde. With this haircut, I was born again. Janusz Głowacki believed that one positive thing resulted from my illness – a new, short haircut.

October 20, Sunday

Until six in the afternoon, nothing hurts me. I fight thrush. The best way is to scrape with a wooden scraper. Then throw her out. The young doctor Piotr, a friend of Wawrzyń, says that some of his patients put frozen pineapple on their tongue. So what am I doing? I freeze the pineapple slices and put them on my tongue. First it burns, then relief. I look at myself in the mirror and burst out laughing, though I should be crying. Pineapple frozen in the mouth, eyes without eyelashes, face without eyebrows. It’s a little beer. I outline my eyes with a crayon and paint my eyebrows. Just like the make-up artists on TV taught me – with a brush or a cotton swab. Bald head. Maybe not quite anymore, it begins to get down on the feathers. And yet I see myself. I live, I talk, I walk, I complain, I laugh. I’m happy.

Chemotherapy was a very difficult time. And just as I normally argue with my husband quite often, not even once during these six months. He was wonderful, affectionate, caring, just loved. My illness has somehow reevaluated our relationship. We have become better for each other. When, after the next few months, Mirek raised his voice to me, I immediately fired «What? Do you think I’m healthy now ?! ». “Yes”. Because I actually was.

After I recovered, the WAB publishing house suggested that I write a novel about my illness, but I declined. I couldn’t imagine that I would be able to force my experiences into some imaginary form. Either fiction or truth. And these were my experiences. That is why I decided to publish a journal fragment devoted to the disease. And this is how the book “Left memory of the right one” was written.

All fragments of the diary come from the book by Krystyna Kofta, “Left memory of the right hand” (WAB, 2003). We publish the text courtesy of Mednavi.

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