A couple of nights ago, I had my first outing as an official breast cancer survivor. Until then, I had only told people socially that I was a breast cancer survivor. And as far as the newspaper articles were concerned, I hid out when the brouhaha was raging. This was especially easy since apart from immediate family, no-one else I knew seemed to read the Straits Times, or read more than the headlines.

Two days ago, however, I went to the premiere of Pink Paddlers, a movie about the Singapore dragon boat team made up of breast cancer survivors. When I showed up with my 1 cm hair regrowth, and saw women there whom I had seen at various hospital corridors and oncology clinics, I realised that I was one of them, a sisterhood of strangers drawn together by the simple words: you have cancer.

The stories told by the women who were featured in the movie were all too familiar - the sense of shock and denial when first told of the diagnosis, the horror of the mastectomy that followed, the fear throughout treatment, the reactions of family, friends and strangers. While I had always felt that my journey was particularly easy, hearing the recollections of these women also highlighted something that I have never admitted - that there is a nightmarish element to the journey.

When my father was first diagnosed with terminal lung cancer nine years ago, I remember thinking that it was as though death had moved in with us. I could not think of my father, or have a conversation with him, without thinking that each interaction with him, or thought of him, was one of the last I would have. It was countdown time. The long dark shadow had cast its pall over all of us.

During Pink Paddlers, even as the brave women interviewed danced, laughed and furiously paddled through every race, it was as though they were defying death, determinedly living life writ large in the face of death. And at the very end, when the dragon boat teams gathered together after the competition to remember team members and friends who had passed on, the nightmare element of the cancer journey was brought to the fore - that death walks very closely to all cancer survivors. This is a nightmare from which we will never wake up, ever. As one survivor said, even after several years, we still fear the recurrence.

A voice-over at the end of the movie said that at the back of their minds was the thought: I wonder how many of us will be here next year? Death is our constant companion. In a wierd way, this is way we all try to live our lives as fully as possible - because we refuse to give up one iota while we still have life.

I must admit I spent much of the movie blubbing. It was my story on the screen, as it was the story of all breast cancer, and indeed, all cancer survivors. It was a story of struggle, and a daily bolstering of courage. The vivacity and determination of the women interviewed were inspiring, and humbling.

All of them have blazed a trail. The movie, if shown in cinemas, will go a long way to lifting the veil of ignorance and attitude of 'I'd rather not know' around cancer. Kudos to the women who have bared themselves to the general public to raise awareness and consciousness.

Indeed, cancer is not a death sentence. It is a sentence of fullest life.