I am 44 years old. I am single and have no children. I was born and raised in İzmit. I am originally from Kars; if we go further back, my roots trace to the Ahıska Turks of the Caucasus.
My journey began in 2009, on a Ramadan night. I woke up for sahur and noticed a large blood stain on the undershirt covering my chest. It was bleeding as if there were a deep cut. Yet there was no cut and no pain. I couldn’t understand where that much blood was coming from. I cleaned myself and went back to sleep. When I woke up in the morning and saw a similar scene again, I realized something was seriously wrong.
I pressed on my right breast to find the source of the bleeding and noticed that blood was coming from my right nipple under pressure. Without knowing where this would lead, I went to the hospital. After a physical examination, ultrasound, and other tests, a mass was detected under my right nipple. That was how I received the diagnosis of breast cancer.
Further examinations showed that I had early-stage breast cancer. The mass beneath the nipple was removed with breast-conserving surgery. After the operation, I returned to work. At that time, I honestly didn’t feel much of the psychological impact of cancer or its treatment. I continued my daily routine. After surgery, I took hormone-suppressing medication every day for five years. This medication did not affect me physically.
For about five and a half years, I went to regular follow-ups, and all results were clear. At the end of five years, my doctor discontinued the hormone therapy.
In 2015, I woke up one morning with pain in my right breast. When I examined it by hand, I found another mass in the same area. I went to my doctor and began a new hospital process. The cancer had recurred in the same breast. This time, it had spread to the lymph nodes under my arm.
I entered a pre-surgery chemotherapy process known medically as neoadjuvant therapy. I first received chemotherapy, then radiotherapy. When shrinkage of the tumor was observed, I underwent surgery.
When I was first diagnosed in 2009, I had not been affected this deeply. But the recurrence in 2015 was a very unsettling experience for me. What would happen to my working life? Would I be able to have children? These scattered but heavy questions occupied my mind.
During treatment, I stayed at home with my family and did not accept any visitors. During chemotherapy, I avoided phrases like “I am very strong” or “I will defeat cancer.” Instead, I chose to observe how cancer and its treatments were shaping my future. I tried to hold on to life only with my faith; that was what kept me standing. I never felt like I was at war with anything. I simply tried to be happy.
I have no photographs from that period, nor did I feel the need for any. I didn’t want unnecessary heroism. I just wanted to live what life offered me. I saw that period as an opportunity to observe my life before cancer, to transform myself, and to realize my dreams.
Throughout my treatment, I made a promise to myself: I would change, I would transform, I would travel, and I would try to live a high-quality life. And I kept that promise. I obtained a disability report and, since my years and days of work were sufficient, I retired early. This brought me great relief.
After treatment, the first thing I did was take a long, beautiful vacation to the south—somewhere I had never been before. I went from one rock festival to another. I traveled between cities by bicycle, ran marathons, took basic acting courses in theater, and learned sign language (though I later forgot it due to lack of practice). I fell in love with theater. I began to understand every film I watched more deeply and grasp the books I read on the first try. I realized my own potential and discovered myself. I couldn’t tell whether the world was revolving around me or whether I was grabbing it by the ears and hanging it somewhere. I regained my self-confidence toward life.
Because I am a man, relatively young, and single, I went through the process and its aftermath more easily than many of my companions on this path. Of course, the friends I met after treatment who had experienced breast cancer and the patient associations played a huge role in this. I traveled from İzmit to Istanbul every Friday for psychological therapy sessions organized by the Turkish Cancer Society, and this helped me tremendously. Meeting new people, traveling, and learning new things transformed me into someone else.
In short, I did not surrender myself to the darkness created by cancer. I experienced an inner enlightenment, and I am very happy to still be sustaining it.
I would also like to emphasize that my circumstances were very different compared to those of many other people, especially women. For example, can my conditions be considered equal to those of a woman in a village in eastern Turkey who is undergoing cancer treatment while caring for four children, working in the fields, looking after her husband and household, and who has no chance to change her life after treatment ends? Of course not.
At this point, wouldn’t it be inappropriate for me to say, “I defeated cancer”? Not everyone can struggle under the same conditions, and therefore I do not think such expressions are appropriate. Moreover, this struggle is a collective one—family, friends, physicians, healthcare professionals, civil society organizations, and, of course, with the permission of the Creator.
I must also say this: because I was considered disabled after cancer, I thought for a long time that I would never be able to work again, and I went through very difficult times. Then one day, in January 2017, I attended a disability interview at İŞKUR and was hired for the job I am currently doing. Continuing to work has improved my life financially, emotionally, and physically. I wish that all employers would approach individuals with a history of cancer with the same sensitivity and support as the employer at my workplace.
I can summarize my struggle as follows: I used to be someone who didn’t like to talk much, but now, like a child who has just learned to speak, I eagerly try to share not only cancer but also my life struggle and experiences everywhere. Whatever I do, whatever I experience, I try to do it with quality. I stay away from anything that will upset me and make time for myself. This is my fundamental goal in life.
To all my female and male companions who have experienced or are experiencing breast cancer, I recommend allowing yourselves to feel your emotions as they are. At times, you may not feel strong; you may feel exhausted. But you should know that this is a temporary process. All the pain we experience will make us stronger. After passing through these difficult and rough roads, I am sure you will feel the change and strength within yourselves and continue your lives after treatment with a positive difference.
Breast cancer is much less common in men than in women, but it is crucial for men to know their own bodies well. If they notice any physical change, they should consult a physician immediately without delay. Because the possibility of breast cancer in men is often not considered, late diagnosis can occur, leading to longer treatment and reduced quality of life. For this reason, I strongly recommend that men also perform regular self-breast examinations.