My fight against breast cancer: the chokehold

Photograph by Heidi Fang

I have been fighting breast cancer since August 2019. Unlike sportsmen and -women who train for years before they step into the ring, I did not prepare for my fight against breast cancer. I knew nothing about my opponent when the illness pushed me into the ring and said: "Fight!"

The first blow left me breathless and in a daze. I stood there, unprepared, barefoot and without any protection. The only thing I could do was lift my hands to protect my face while my opponent delivered one punch after the other. 

But, I stood firm while my husband rushed to the ringside with some essential protection. There was no time for training. I had to get back to the fight. I realised that if I remain still, my foe has an easy target. So, I started moving my feet, my hands still protecting my face, to avoid the blows coming from my challenger.

Although I am fighting without any training, I soon realised that I am stronger than I thought. It gave me some confidence, and I attempted to return some punches. But, I wasn't fit enough and found myself gasping for air as I grew more tired trying to evade my opponent. 

While I'm fighting for my life, my husband keeps one eye on me and the other on every resource he can find to equip him to be my fighting coach. He studied my rival from every possible angle. He stood at the ringside, shouting tips, encouraging me to hand out a punch here and a kick there.

How I managed to stay on my feet is beyond my understanding; I got more exhausted with each round. My family and friends joined my husband at the ringside, but all they could do was stand there, helplessly watching me encounter a battle that only I can fight.

As more friends came to support me ringside, I gained a second breath and managed to get some punches in. After a few rounds, I felt indestructible and started pounding my opponent with all my might. I even managed to get my assailant in a grappling hold. It felt so good; I am getting the hang of this fighting thing!

While I'm clinching my opponent in an overhook, I managed to catch my breath. I grappled with all my strength and became convinced that I'm going to take my enemy down. But, my foe is a powerful super-villain and soon slipped from my grip. 

It wasn't long before exhaustion set in again. My lungs are burning, and my vision is blurry. I feel faint, and my legs can no longer keep up with the evasive moves. I can hear my husband, family, and friends shouting from the crowd of spectators. And, just like a Hollywood actor, I return from near-death to beat my opponent down with a knock-out punch. 

But I missed and instead rammed into the ring ropes. The blow sobered me up a bit, and I continued fighting. For each attack on my opponent, I have to defend five. It is an unfair fight because I don't get a time-out between rounds. I don't sleep, and I don't eat; I don't have a life. All I do is fight and fight and fight - day in and day out. 

My husband is always in my corner, ready to wipe the blood from my nose and eyes when I pass. Family and friends come to support me, but they cannot stay for the entire fight. Some rounds have very few onlookers, and spectators pack the venue to the brim for other matches. 

Everyone says that I am brave. But I am not brave; I am fighting for my life! Cancer pushed me into the ring, and although I chose to stand and fight, it was under duress.  Once you enter the cancer-fight ring, you can never leave. You will continue fighting your opponent until the day you die. For some, the fight is over before it has even begun. Others fight for years, round after round. Sometimes you get a short break to catch your breath, but you never leave the ring. Your opponent is volatile, and you can never take your eyes off your foe. 

I did just that. I thought that I could leave the ring, but my opponent came from behind and grappled me in a chokehold. I refuse to tap out, but how long can I hold my breath while I try to escape the grip?