It was the year 1957. Nat, my husband, and son Michael and I had a lovely holiday in the States, staying with my Auntie Lily and Uncle Al and we had been back home in London a little over a year.
I was working in a local shop, selling ladieswear and I liked it so much. Michael was still at school and used to help with the chores. Nat worked on the cabs and we were OK. Until one day, after I had my shower I went to put my bra on. Suddenly I looked in the mirror and saw a lump on my breast. It wasn’t hurting me, but it looked ominous. I started to feel it but it wouldn’t move and it felt rather thick. I was quite nervous, so I phoned my doctor and he said he would visit me. I then phoned Nat’s sister Rose who lived nearby and she came round; I got into bed and waited for the doctor to arrive.
He came in and examined me. Looking rather grave he asked me how long I’d had this lump, and I said that I’d only just noticed it. He then called Rose out into the hall and told her heat he thought it was serious and advised me to get in touch with a specialist.
He gave me the specialist’s name, Mr. Patey, and an appointment was made for the very next day at his surgery in Harley Street. Nat and I went to his place, where I was examined and had a needle inserted into my breast. Mr Patey told me he was a surgeon at the Middlesex Hospital in Mortimer Street, W1 and he then said he would like me to come into hospital to have some tests.
The very next day I was admitted to hospital and everyone who examined me looked so serious. After about three days of all sorts of tests and examinations, the doctor sat me down and told me that I had a tumour which had to be removed immediately. He then went onto explain the procedure.
To get right into the tumour, because it was rather deep, the breast had to be removed right down to the rib cage, so I had to have a skingraft from my thigh, and the flesh laid onto my ribcage. Remember, in those days they did not have the modern techniques they have today.
Well I agreed, and on September 3rd 1957 I had this operation. Actually on that day we were supposed to be going to Paris for a vacation. Who can plan eh? When I awoke from surgery, my right arm was strapped across my right breast which was removed, my thigh was done up in bandages and there was a rubber drain attached to my breast for the excess blood to run into.
I was thirty-six years old, had had a lovely figure and now it was gone. I felt a freak and cried so much. “Why me?” I wailed, so full of pain, feeling sorry for myself.
After three weeks I was up and about, trying to walk in the ward without toppling over sideways. I had cotton wool in the bra at the time because the scars were so sore. Then I was fitted with a pad which was filled with tiny beads, weighted and fitted in the pad to match my own breast. (Now they have silicone-filled pads which are just like the real thing. They even have a nipple on them - I wear one and love it!)
I was sent to a convalescent home to recuperate for two weeks, and one day, a man came behind me and felt my breast (the false one!). I called to him and asked him for his name and address. He asked me why, so I replied,
“Apparently you like touching my breast, so I shall put it in a box and send it on to you!”
The man apologised profusely and said he couldn’t resist my lovely figure. It made my day, I can tell you. I felt really good.
I came home feeling OK, very sore and raw on my breast and thigh, but I thanked God that it was over.
I had to go to have a check-up the following week, so I went with Nat to the Middlesex, hoping to see the other women that I was with in the ward. Nat said that he would go out and get his shoes cleaned (there was a shoeblack outside the hospital) and that he would come up later. Mr Patey was waiting in his office. He called me in and asked if my husband was with me and I told him I was meeting him downstairs after the check-up.
He looked up at me gravely,
“Mrs Ladenson, may I call you Betty?”
“Of course” I said cheerfully, “call me what you like!”
“Betty,” he said, “I have bad news. The tumour that we took from your breast has been analysed and the cancer is quite rapid.”
“Oh my God, what does that mean? Am I going to die?”
“No Betty,” Mr Patey said, “This is what we intend to do with your permission. We want to remove all the glands in your body, because this where the cancer breeds. First we took away your breast, now we would like to remove your ovaries and adrenal glands.”
“What are the adrenal glands, doctor?” I said, “And where are they in the body?”
“They lie on the liver, Betty, and only ten people in this country have had this operation. It is a life and death operation, and there’s a 50-50 chance.”
“What does all this entail doctor?” By this time I couldn’t believe I was being told all this. I just felt numb, wishing that Nat was with me.
“Well Betty,” he continued, “It means that you can’t live without adrenal glands. They are vital in your body. So we have to measure all your food, what goes in and out. Eat every morsel we give you, so much sugar, salt, all has to be weighed and examined before and after. Then after ten days we operate. We take your ovaries first, and the next day we remove your adrenal glands. It means doing this operation from your back, breaking the ribs to get to the adrenals and there will be about 150 stitches on your back! It’s vital that you have this done Betty. Otherwise I fear the cancer you have will spread to the ovaries and adrenals - then there will be no hope. Your liver will be hit.”
“Doctor,” I said, “I will put my life in your hands, and God.”
“Good girl Betty,” Dr Patey said, “You will come into the hospital tomorrow and we shall begin.”
I said, “Tomorrow doctor? Will I be here over Christmas?”
“Afraid so, my dear. But we shall make you comfortable.”
Nat came up then, and when I told him the news he went white,
“What can I say, Betty, everything will be all right, you’ll see.”
I went home to tell my mother. She was living around the corner in a nice flat with my darling Auntie Phoebe. My grandparents were dead and my mother had retired to look after Phoebe and they were quite comfortable and happy. When I told my mother the drastic news she wept bitterly and said,
“Haven’t you had enough Betty? Look what you’ve just been through.”
“Mummy,” I said, “this is life or death. I have to have these operations.” Michael cried and said,
“Not hospital again!”
“Mummy,” I said, “look after Nat and Michael, I shan’t be happy otherwise. I know they will be in good hands if you look after them.”
“Don’t worry Betty, “she said, “All I want is for my darling girl to come home well, and live forever!”
After a sleepless night of worrying about what was going to happen, and about the unknown, I went into the hospital and had to sit on a chair in the middle of ward while I waited for the sister to arrive. Nat was with me all the time. I looked around and saw a woman in a bed with tubes coming from all over her body and an oxygen cylinder near her bed. Sitting next to me was a patient who was walking around and had stopped to have a rest.
I said, “What’s the matter with that women over there?”
“Oh her,” she said, “she’s dying, she has had cancer and they removed her glands yesterday, poor thing. She’s very ill!”
By this time I was really shaking and wondered what the hell I was going to go through. Suddenly Mr Patey can into the ward with another man who he introduced as Dr N V Nabarro, telling me he was a consultant specialist on glands. He told Nat and I to come to his consulting rooms in the hospital and said that he will explain all that was going to happen to me and how it will affect me after surgery...
“After you have your adrenal glands removed, as one can’t live without them, you will immediately go on Hydrocortisone. These tablets are made from the adrenal glands of cows. (Remember this is 40 years ago - now it is made synthetically) You will also be given Fluorocortisone, to control your blood. There is a 50-50 chance of this operation succeeding, but I’m sure you have every chance of pulling through. It’s going to be a long a painful job, but it will be worth it in the end. You are young, you have a healthy heart and liver and lungs, so we have every hope for you.
“After we remove your ovaries, we will take your adrenal glands out, not because they are cancerous, but it is a preventative measure. We shall examine them and let you know the result. Now, having no glands will make you prone to other ills, such as underactive thyroid glands (which I did get after a few years and I am now on thryroxine). It will affect your heart eventually but we shall monitor you regularly and treat you accordingly.” (It did affect my heart eventually and I ended up with a coronary, now having to take three heart pills a day).
After the operation he told me if I ever got sick or go off my food I must have a cortisone injection in place of my tablets, because I can only live for two days without my medication.
Being on steroids has made me rather bloated and fat. But I’m alive and here to tell the tale, thanks to a team of doctors, surgeons and specialists in the Middlesex Hospital. Dr Nabarro went on to be knighted and the rest of the team did well too. I can never thank them enough for giving me life and I live every day as a bonus.
I have regular check-ups and more illnesses have attacked me, but I laugh it through. From 36 to 76 - that is a record for Addison’s Disease. All the women that had it when I did died. So I thank the Middlesex and God, and faith for being alive.
PS Addison’s Disease is what you have when all your glands are diseased or removed as mine were. I remember I had something in common with President Kennedy though. Like me, he had lots of severe backache - both of us sufferers of Addison’s Disease.
