This is Ana*. She’s my younger cousin. Although we’re both approaching 40, I still see her as a little girl. A little girl who has been through a lot in her life. But there’s no point in telling you everything right now. 

She doesn’t have big dreams. I mean, she does, but at the moment she’s put them on hold a bit because life has hit her head-on and from all sides. Right now, her dream is simply to live. And, if possible, to live with dignity and to deal with the rest of the problems that keep knocking at her door. To sort them out, one by one, all of them.  

The first major hurdle is that merciless diagnosis that sends a shiver down anyone’s spine and leaves anyone numb. It’s the kind of thing we can only hope won’t happen to us, or that we’ll soon discover a miracle cure. 

Yes, it is cancer. A very aggressive breast carcinoma which, although detected relatively early, has a 90% chance of spreading. This means it requires a mastectomy (removal of the breasts), chemotherapy and then breast reconstruction. Which, in total, costs at least 10,000 euros. Yes, in the private sector. There she found an empathetic, patient doctor who explained step by step what the diagnosis meant and what alternatives she had. 

What are the risks if she doesn’t have the operation? Rapid metastasis, KI-47 90% – high grade of proliferation – the cancer can spread very quickly throughout the body. We are still waiting for the results of the lymph node biopsy to find out if the lymph nodes are metastatic. If they are, they will also need to be removed. 

Now, you’re probably wondering: 

Why in the private sector, if she has no money? She should have the operation in the public sector, as the state covers the costs. 

Being in a desperate situation, she went for investigations at many state and private hospitals and clinics. Unfortunately, at the Oncology Institute, she had a painful and disappointing experience: she was treated with a lack of respect or empathy. I’ve reproduced the dialogue below:

A: What’s the diagnosis? Am I going to die?

Dr.: (dryly) Yes.

A (thinking he was joking): What is the diagnosis?

Dr.: What we suspected. 

A: We initially suspected it was something benign. All the doctors told me it was most likely a benign tumour. So what is it?

Dr.: Cancer. 

Afterwards, he told me to see an oncologist and left in a hurry.

That’s how she ended up at a private clinic where she was treated with understanding and empathy and where they explained to her, step by step, what the diagnosis meant, what further tests she needed to undergo and what treatment was recommended (surgery and chemotherapy, the order to be determined following the results of all the tests). 

Why does she need reconstruction? 

I just want to ask you the following question: ladies, if at the age of 37 you were to lose both your breasts, how would you view life? Would you still consider it to be, even in the slightest degree, a normal life? And to the gentlemen, I pose the following question: how would you view a woman who no longer has breasts, even though she once did? Could you look at her the same way as before, or would you inevitably feel pity?

You mean she wants money to get breast implants? 

The thought of cosmetic surgery is far from her mind. Since I’ve known her (that is, since she was born), she has never once mentioned anything of the sort. Not even in jest. 

But, you see, this is where the dignity I mentioned earlier comes in. How can you live with dignity in a world which, whether we like to admit it or not, is rather superficial? How can you still live with yourself after the last shred of your femininity has been stripped away? 

And speaking of dignity, she doesn’t even know I’ve written this, and she would never have agreed to a public campaign, but in desperate situations, we resort to desperate measures. Just so you understand why I haven’t given her real name or included a real photo of her. 

Ana has been out of work for several months. The company she worked for went into administration, and she has been looking for a job ever since, but the labour market is being shaken every day by fiscal measures, the rise of AI and many other factors that make the process of finding a job massively difficult. 

But she wants to work. To live. To enjoy life. 

So I won’t drag this out any longer. If you can relate even 1% and contribute whatever you want and can, perhaps we can turn this dark story into one with a happy ending. So we can have her with us for as many years as possible. 

Ah, I almost forgot: her advice to all ladies: have an annual breast scan! It doesn’t matter what your age, genetics or lifestyle are. Cancer spares no one. 

*The name has been changed to protect her identity and so that we can help her without her feeling pity.