The story of Suwarni, the first user of ECCT, who fought against cancer and was freed from stage-4 breast cancer for over 10 years.
I am an ordinary housewife, with no higher education and no office job. Every day, I take care of my children and husband.
I have three children: two sons and one daughter. My husband works at a workshop with a modest salary. It’s not much, but it is enough for our family.
In 1997, with the help of my brother Warsito, my husband and I tried to open our own workshop. Alhamdulillah, our business started to flourish, and we began hiring our own employees.
By 2009, the demands of running my business consumed my time so much that I neglected changes in one of my body’s organs.
I never felt any pain. Until one day, I pointed out the changes in my breast to my husband. He urged me to see a doctor, but I ignored him.
I said, “It doesn’t hurt.”
My husband repeatedly insisted that I go for a check-up, but I still refused to see a doctor.
The pain in my breast grew worse, feeling like being pricked with needles. I endured it on my own and didn’t want to share it with my family.
There was a time when I nearly fainted after my painful breast hit the car’s rearview mirror.
When asked by an employee, “What’s wrong, ma’am?”
I replied, “Nothing’s wrong.”
I felt excruciating pain, nearly unable to bear it.
Days turned into weeks. Weeks turned into months. Months turned into years. I continued to force myself not to share my pain with anyone.
One Sunday, when I was taken out by my husband for a drive with all the kids and grandchildren, I sat beside my husband, who was driving, while my two grandchildren sat in the front.
They were very active, and while the car was moving, their heads bumped into my painful breast. The pain was unbearable, and I almost fainted from holding it in.
Even then, I still hadn’t felt compelled to see a doctor.
My business was a motorcycle spare parts store and a lathe workshop. Every time I closed the store, I would ask my house assistant for hot water to compress my breast using a hot water bottle.
Over time, my assistant grew suspicious and asked, “What’s really wrong, ma’am, that you ask for hot water every day?”
At this point, I still held back. Only my husband knew about the changes in my breast, but he didn’t know how severe the pain was.
One day, while I was enduring excruciating pain, my husband saw me and gave me an ultimatum: “If you don’t want to see a doctor, just wait and see who dies first—me or you.”
At this point, I began to think: “Could this lump in my breast be cancer like I read in magazines? Is it dangerous enough to cause death?”
I truly didn’t know. I was just an ordinary woman, a housewife with no higher education.
Due to my ignorance and lack of experience, it had come to this.
Finally, unable to resist my husband’s insistence, I went to the hospital. In early 2010, I took my eldest child to accompany me to the hospital.
From home, I didn’t tell anyone I was going for a check-up because of my pain. I said I was going to visit someone who was ill.
My child asked, “Who is sick, Mom?”
I just stayed silent.
Upon arriving at the largest hospital in Solo, I was attended to by a very famous specialist in the city. I was the last patient of the day.
Since I arrived in the afternoon, I entered the examination room alone while my child waited outside.
The doctor examined my breast, which had taken on the shape of an apple, with a reddish color and skin that felt like hard orange peel. The doctor concluded that I had late-stage cancer, stage 4, and that surgery was necessary.
I was shocked; my entire body tensed up. My heart raced so strongly that even the cardiologist examining me was surprised by my heart rate.
In my panic, I didn’t ask the examining specialist any questions when he gave me a referral for lab tests.
I assumed it was just a referral for lab tests, so I went home directly.
When I got home, I shared the results with my husband and children. They were all shocked; my husband and children cried.
That afternoon, my husband took me to the laboratory for tests. The results came out that night.
The next morning, my husband and daughter accompanied me back to the hospital to show the lab results to the doctor who examined me.
As soon as I sat down, the lab results were slammed onto the table. Apparently, my lab tests had been mismanaged.
His voice was raised, and my husband and daughter were frightened. The doctor left the three of us, but his assistant remained.
That day was Friday, the last day the doctor practiced at that hospital. The assistant instructed me on what further tests I needed to undergo at the lab.
I followed various tests at the lab, and the results came out that night. I was informed by one of the lab staff that the doctor who examined me was also practicing that night at another hospital.
Without delay, my husband rushed me to the mentioned hospital that same night. Once again, I was the last patient.
After reviewing the ultrasound results, the doctor recommended immediate surgery. My husband agreed that I should proceed with the operation.
I thought that after the surgery, my illness would be gone. Ah, that was due to my ignorance.
On Monday, I was instructed to return to the first hospital for further tests.
While waiting for my examination day, I tried calling my brother in Jakarta.
“Yu, is there any medicine for stage-4 breast cancer?” I asked.
My brother asked, “Who has cancer, Ni?”
I replied, “Um, a friend of mine, a neighbor….”
At first, my brother believed me, but over time he grew suspicious. I could no longer lie; I had to tell him everything over the phone.
From there, my entire extended family learned about my condition. Coincidentally, my mother was also in Jakarta at the time.
On Monday, my daughter and husband accompanied me back to the first hospital. The doctor scheduled my surgery for Wednesday morning. That day, I was instructed to be admitted, but I refused.
I went home that day, and the next day, Tuesday, I returned for admission.
On Tuesday evening, my mother, brother Warsito from Jakarta, and my extended family came to the hospital to wait for me until my surgery the next day.
A week after the surgery, I was allowed to go home. The stitches had not yet been removed, and the results of the operation were still pending.
At home, I arranged for a nurse to clean my surgical wound. The nurse cleaned my wound daily.
A week later, the results of the surgery were ready, and I took them to the doctor along with my stitches to be removed.
However, only half of the stitches were removed because my surgical stitches were quite long. The doctor dared to remove only half and said to wait another week for the rest.
Seeing the results of the surgery, the doctor was shocked. He informed me that I had aggressive cancer, which had spread to my armpit and was very severe. (Histopathological examination results showed invasive ductal carcinoma grade 3.)
With such results, the doctor recommended chemotherapy. The cost of chemotherapy was very high for my family. Each session would cost about 30 million rupiah, and the doctor said I would need 9 sessions.
I was taken aback. Where would I get that much money?
I asked, “Doctor, does that all have to be paid in cash?”
The doctor replied, “Of course, how else would you pay? With paper?”
With only half of my stitches removed, I went home to wait another week for the rest to be taken out.
I was troubled by both my illness and the cost of chemotherapy.
Two stitches burst, leaving an opening in my surgical wound. The nurse who was caring for me was frightened and advised me to see the doctor for more stitches.
I can’t even imagine the pain.
I didn’t want to have stitches again. My husband bought me herbal medicine from a local healer until I finished 8 packages, and finally, my wound dried up.
For the remaining stitches, I returned to the doctor. Once again, the doctor suggested chemotherapy.
“What if I don’t do chemotherapy, doctor?” I asked.
“Most likely, you have only 1-2 years left to live at most,” the doctor said.
“If I do chemotherapy, will you guarantee that the cancer won’t return?” I asked.
“I can’t guarantee that the cancer cells won’t come back,” the doctor replied.
“If you can’t guarantee it, why should I undergo chemotherapy at such a high cost?”
“It would be better to use that money to go on a pilgrimage or help those in need,” I said.
“I ask for your prayers, doctor, may Allah forgive my sins,” I finally said to the doctor.
I was given a prescription. I asked, “Doctor, what is this medicine for?”
“It’s for boosting your immune system,” the doctor replied.
On the way home from the doctor’s office, I called my brother Warsito. At that time, he was a special staff member for the Ministry of Research and Technology, and he was currently abroad.
Over the phone, I said, “Le,” I usually call him ‘le.’ “The doctor said my life expectancy is not long, at most 1-2 years if I don’t have chemotherapy.”
“Did the doctor really say that?” Warsito asked.
“Yes,” I replied.
“Then just do chemotherapy,” he said.
“I don’t want to. It costs a lot.”
“Alright, we’ll figure something out,” he said.
“I really don’t want chemotherapy,” I insisted.
Warsito replied, “Okay, just go home now, rest, don’t think too much, eat well, okay?”
“Okay,” I said.
When I got home, my mind was in turmoil.
First, I called my mother to apologize for all my sins, asking for forgiveness and praying for my heart to be calm as I faced this illness.
Then, I called relatives and friends to ask for forgiveness for all my mistakes and to request their prayers in case I was called to meet Him at any time.
Three months passed, and I felt pain, sadness, and frustration, almost to the point of despair.
One day, precisely on June 20, 2010, Warsito’s assistant came to my house bringing a device that looked like a bra and a box containing two small batteries.
In a phone call, Warsito said, “Yu, just use that device, okay?”
I replied, “Okay.”
The next day, I saw the doctor. I showed him the device. The doctor was furious. He gave me a referral for more lab tests.
One month after using that device, I went for lab tests. When I brought the lab results to the doctor, he became furious again. He slammed the lab results down and scolded me.
“The lab results may show negative, but I believe there are still many cancer cells in your body,” he said.
I was instructed to undergo ultrasound and check-ups in a month.
After two months of using the bra-like device with the battery box, I went for the ultrasound. I brought the results to the doctor.
The doctor scrutinized the ultrasound results for a long time. I became impatient and asked, “How is it, doctor? Is there growth or spread? Why are you taking so long to check?”
It took me three times of asking before he finally answered.
“Alhamdulillah, you are completely cured of cancer,” the doctor finally said.
I immediately prostrated in gratitude right there.
The doctor said, “You haven’t even had chemotherapy once, with such expensive costs, yet you are free from the aggressive cancer that had spread to your armpit.”
I used the device for 24 hours, only removing it while showering. I would take it off when I showered and then put it back on afterward.
I never expected to be cured from cancer so quickly.
The doctor who had been treating me did not expect the device to have such rapid effects either.
I immediately called Warsito. He was also surprised by the results.
This is my experience with the device that later became known as ECCT.
Alhamdulillah, Allah granted my healing through my little angel.
The child I carried, fed, and taught to walk and talk was sent by Allah to assist her aunt.
Thank you, my little angel. Thank you, my pious brother. May Allah make your wishes easy, smooth, and always protect you in this world and the hereafter. I hope you can help cancer patients as easily and smoothly as I did.
Behind the tests that Allah gives, there is surely ease. Enjoy what Allah has given, no matter how bitter, with sincerity and only hoping for His pleasure. Surely Allah will give the best.
My experiences of disappointment towards a close family member, whether a child or husband, frustration with those closest to me, anger, and disappointment—all these are triggers for cancer cell growth.
Repeatedly I felt stressed, disappointed, angry, and irritated with those closest to me, and repeatedly, the cancer grew back, again and again.
Even after my cancer was first declared clean, I still experienced three recurrences around the surgical site.
I conducted experiments on myself. Each time it grew back, I immediately used the ECCT device. A week later, it would disappear again.
One day, when my cancer grew back, I purposely refused to use the ECCT device again. My condition continued to decline, and I lost 5 kg. Because my heart was upset, irritated, and angry, I eventually became angry with myself, and afterward, I removed the device and refused to use it again.
After 1 month, 2 months, up to 3 months, my body shrank, and the cancer returned.
I pray for everyone currently battling cancer and using ECCT, wishing for their speedy recovery like mine.
I want to advise: “Accept with sincerity what Allah has given, even if it is painful, bitter, disappointing, angry, or irritated. Try to forget everything that causes this heart to ache. Strive to bury the ailments of the heart deep down.”
“Indeed, forgetting everything is painful, but with a strong intention, surely Allah will give the best.”
“Dedicate each night while others are asleep to wake up, take ablution, draw closer, and surrender to Allah, seeking His forgiveness.”
“Pray for ease and smoothness in healing this illness, pour everything out, and spend 1/3 of the night hoping for His pleasure.”
May Allah bless us and grant ease in all our efforts.
#10YearsECCT #10YearsSuwarni
About ECCT:
https://c-techlabs.com/electro-capacitive-cancer-therapy-ecct-devices/