This is part two of a real story about the challenges of healthcare for women with disabilities.
Deep down, I knew..
On the 10th of December, 2025, I was diagnosed with grade two breast cancer. A date was set for the 29th of January, 2026, for a lumpectomy to remove the cancerous tumour, a benign lump and a couple of lymph nodes to check whether the cancer had spread.
When you hear the word “cancer”, it’s so surreal, and you think to yourself “Really? me?”, “No it can’t be?”.
The room becomes smaller, the silence is deafening and the doctor’s voice becomes gibberish.
It was a shock for me to hear of my diagnosis that day, knowing a huge change in my body and in my life was about to happen, on top of living with a disability.
The good news is that the doctors were so happy that the cancer was in its early stages and felt confident in their treatments moving forward. Honestly, if it wasn’t for the purpose of this article, I would have left a mammogram for a few years. I don’t even want to think about that.
My family in New Zealand were shocked and saddened by the news. It also triggered memories of when our mum was going through her breast cancer journey, however they were happy, that mine was caught early.
Without hesitation my brother, Dylan, said, “I’m coming over when you have your surgery!”
I spent Christmas in New Zealand. We strengthened bonds and made precious memories. However, the tinge of sorrow and uncertainty was heart wrenching.
2026 the new year had finally come.
Dylan had booked his flight for the 27th of January and I was extremely excited, but I wished his trip to Sydney was on a happier note.
My surgery day had finally come. I just wanted it over with. Dylan, and my agency Carehero, stood by my side through everything. They were amazing!
It was successful and they removed the cancerous tumour, my lymph nodes were clear of cancer and it was not genetic. No chemo was needed, but radiation is planned next, for thorough measures.
I came home from my overnight stay in hospital and my brother’s short trip had come to an end. I feel that our connection as brother and sister has strengthened even more. I appreciate you, my brother.
I know part one of my story angered a few people by the treatment I received on my first mammogram. Unfortunately, this happens a lot when disabled people want to access most services. Not only in the health sector.
They say “inclusive“ or “wheelchair accessible” – but are we?
I do not hold any negative feelings toward BreastScreen NSW. I truly appreciate the convenience of being able to book a mammogram at a Myer store location. However, on the day of my first mammogram, I believe clearer communication, greater patience, and additional appointment time would have made a significant difference. I also feel that during my initial phone call, a more detailed discussion about my mobility and limitations would have been helpful, in regards to my ability to stay in certain positions for the mammogram.
It was also a learning curve for me too, to not always assume that “wheelchair accessible” will tick all of my boxes and to research further.
As I lie in bed recovering, I count my lucky stars and I reflect on my breast cancer journey. I am thankful for all of my family and friends support, the numerous and powerful prayers near and far, plus lastly, for the amazing medical team at Westmead breast cancer institute.
My heart is full of gratitude.
Words by Asha Prasad
Note: This is part two of Asha’s story. Read part one here. If you have been in a similar situation, or you would like to share your experiences with healthcare and disability, please fill out our Contact Us form.
