When Vera Ora – psychiatrist and mother

of pop superstar Rita – was diagnosed with

breast cancer, she learned a very powerful

lesson about listening to and loving her body

Why I

cherish

every day...

A

fter everything I’ve been

through, the last thing I ever

thought I’d be asked to do

is model swimwear.

I’m 55, I work as a

psychiatrist in the NHS, I’m a mum of

three who’s had a mastectomy and

reconstructive surgery after being

diagnosed with breast cancer. My

initial reaction to the modelling request

was, “Why me? I’m not a model.” My

next thought was, “Why not me?” And

precisely because of everything I have

been through, I knew I had to say yes.

With summer almost here, I can

guarantee that some of you will already

be stressing about stripping down

to your bikini or swimming costume,

putting pressure on yourself to look a

certain way on the beach. It makes me

sad that instead of just enjoying the

feeling of the sun on our skin, too many

women are crippled by the feeling they

don’t look good enough. I have learned

the hard way to truly appreciate what

my body does. It doesn’t mean I don’t

enjoy dressing up and I go to the gym

regularly to stay in shape, but ever since

doctors told me I was clear of breast

cancer, I treasure every day.

To understand where I'm coming

from, let me tell you my story. I was

diagnosed with breast cancer when

I was just 39. It was a difficult time from

the very beginning. Ten years earlier

my husband Nick and I had brought

our children, Rita, then one, and Elena,

three, to the UK from Kosovo. We left

because it was becoming a tense and

dangerous place to live, but I found it

very hard to leave behind my family,

friends and career as a GP.

I arrived in the UK unable to speak

English, therefore unable to work – and

we had nothing. I stayed at home with

the children while Nick worked long

hours to support us. Later, I had our

son Don, and loved being a mum, but

my confidence had crumbled. I finally

got work as a waitress to improve my

English, in the hope of eventually being

able to work as a medic again.

But I started to sense it wasn’t just my

self-esteem that was troubling me. My

left breast felt strange, though I couldn’t

say what was wrong with it. I had no

lump or family history of breast cancer.

I finally got the courage to go into