This is a reader story.
I have been living with cancer for 2 years. It started as a little thing I had to get a biopsy and take some tablets. I didn’t understand why people complain about it the treatment seemed so easy.
Then another spot showed up I had to start taking different tablets and they made me feel queesy but its a small price to pay. I had to get my breast removed, I thought thats alright I will still be alive and had more tablets.
I had a leaky bag instead of a breast it started to feel bad, it started to feel no good, it wasn’t just a little surgery and tablets. I started to think the women who complain had a point.
I had a counsellor and she was good I guess, I joined a suppport group and it was not good I guess I didn’t fit in. They spoke of suppliments, herbal tea, having a day spa to relax and finding “me” time during the adjustment. I spoke about gumbi, bush medicne, bush tucker and going bush, sitting under a tree on the riverbank. They insulted me when I spoke about eating roo burgers. They looked down on me when I said I couldn’t do a spa.
They had help with house work and shopping, I had nothing, I struggled to keep my place clean and it hurt. I asked them who helped them it was a cancer council they organise a lot of help. I contacted them and I got the phone numbers of the Aboriginal organizations around and told to assk them.
I did I felt taht I should have had the offered to me like the women in my support group. I thought they should help everyone equally. I paid for someone to come in to help with the housework from the Aboriginal organization, the support group women weren’t having to pay for their help. I left that no support group when they talked about Aboriginal people getting evrything and that people like me are a pimple on the face of the country.