It was last year right about this time that I was in Arizona, B was in Alaska and our kids were home with friends. It was at this time that I was given a breast cancer diagnosis and wrote a letter to B and left it on the dining room table because we could not connect by phone due to time zones and cell phones. It was a year ago that we began down a trail with a new horse who we did not know.
We are leaving today for our trip to Alaska. It’s just too perfect.
You may not hear anything from us between now and our return. In fact I mean not to even think about turning on a computer.
Thank you BW for the round trip plane tickets for us all. What an incredible gift!
I think that has to be one of the longest words that I actually use. (I mean, who REALLY uses antidisestablishmentarianism?) I have used “compartmentalization” in the course of my work in the mental health/substance abuse field. I have observed and tried to help others who did not have skills to compartmentalize. I have worked with people who compartmentalize to an extreme and have become quite emotionally and mentally fragmented. I have left work many a day, grateful for the fact that some how, some where, I learned to do this. Perhaps my psychological development wasn’t interfered with too much, and just by the natural flow of things, some of us learn to separate ourselves from things in a helpful and healthy way.
I am bringing this up because at this point I’m going on with my life. Even when I put aloe on my radiated skin, and massage my scar to avoid scar tissue, it’s like it’s just part of my day now. It does not act as a trigger for bad memories or fear. Even when I have to choose every day whether or not to wear my prosthesis, it’s just part of my routine. I have been at a softball tournament most of this weekend, with lots of people. I am one among many cheering our girls on, making sure they have enough to drink, refilling the coolers with ice. I WAS more vigilant about keeping sunscreen on my shoulders, arms and neck, and happily left the fields at almost DARK without a rash or any irritation.
I suspect that living with the identity of a breast cancer survivor, for some, could be the constant reminder that I want to avoid or ignore. There are things that have come to light for me. Oh, you know, the stuff that we all take for granted. I hate to sound so cliche, but this is something that HAS come to the forefront for me. There are just some things that are not worth the frustration any longer and there are things that I just do not want to let slip by. Life IS too short to hold on to things that can get in the way.
I think I’m eager to get this tucked away for many reasons, not the least of which is my children. They have done such an incredible job with this in their lives. In my mother-teenager relationships, I am learning a great deal. A has taught me that she is very capable of taking care of herself and that she will ask me for help if and when she needs it. Hovering and commenting does NOT help the relationship at all. When she wants to be near me, she comes over. When she wants a hug she asks for it. I am welcome into many conversations with she and her friends, but I am careful about that timing. I have people I call friends to help me with my emotional needs. This is not my child’s job. I know this is not how all people think, but it seems to be working really well for me and my relationships with my kids. After E returned from 2 weeks away, of course I wanted to comment on how much deeper his voice was, I wanted to look him over, ask a million questions. These were MY wants, not his. He has clearly told me that interrogation is a sure fire way to shut him down. I have to learn to listen better to what they are telling me. In our teenagers’ individuation, I am learning to let them go. They both still come for a snuggle or a conversation, and these are the times they are telling me they are open to a certain degree of me being a mom. And being a mom is such a privilege for me. The word friendship just doesn’t capture that relationship in my life. As I move forward, I’m really trying to observe their process more and get out of the way when I can.
I don’t claim to have any corner on the market just because I’ve dealt with cancer. My hide has been tanned, so to speak, and I wear a new skin. I do not want to wear the ‘survivorship’ badge as a reason to be treated differently. I have not been traumatized. As I tuck this year’s experience into its capsule, I want to be careful to try not to let each follow up screen or test prick a hole in the capsule. Each forward event is an experience on it’s own, and any baggage dragging behind me will only weigh me down.
I feel like I’m all over the map with this entry. Any thoughts are really appreciated.
I guess it was mid day before I stopped looking down and checking myself out in whatever reflection I could find. I was fairly symmetrical for the first time since November 10th, 2009. To be honest, I don’t know if I’m more self conscious right now with or without a breast on the left side.
I went to see the “fitta”, the other day. She has been doing her job for over 20 years. She’s worked with women who’ve had mastectomies, lopsided women, children/teens with physical deformities, some girls who are not able to grow their own breasts (i forgot what it’s called). Her office is located at the Breast and Osteoporosis Center at the hospital. She also works with girls, teens, women who have perfectly formed breasts too. “I was so impressed when Dr. ‘Smith’ referred one of his patients to me. The woman didn’t have a heart attack, she was wearing the wrong size bra!”
The “fitta” really takes pride in her work. Her largest project was a 54 LL or something like that. She knows that a 38B might do better with a 40A, it just matters on the bone structure, broadness of the person’s shoulders or other anatomical anomalies. She has a whole back room full of stuff from the most plain to the most lacey. It didn’t take her long to find the right style and size for me. She told stories that were like the “What Not to Wear show” in bra-land. She could be a stand up comic in my opinion. Amidst the hysterical stories, she also shared some very very touching stories that still bring tears to her own eyes, especially regarding one special needs, very deformed young woman who couldn’t stop looking at her new shape and who left her office with a huge smile.
She asked why I waited so long to get fitted. She usually sees people as soon as the mastectomy incision heals, saying that she recommends that timing to help prevent the body from adjusting to the loss from a weight balancing perspective. She’s more concerned about what others think than I am, and that was another of her reasons for getting a prosthesis soon after surgery. I explained that I just didn’t feel ready to make the decision until I felt physically and emotionally healed from treatments. She said adjusting to a prosthetic breast might tire my body out so I might want to work myself up by an hour each day. Her recommendation was to wear it every day once I got used to it. She said that she had her breast weighed on a mammogram machine. She was 140 pounds and the breast weighed 5 pounds. This is enough to affect balance and muscular/skeletal health.
I picked up a couple bras, the prosthesis and a tank, all of which will be paid for by my insurance (there is coverage throughout the rest of my life for a certain number of bras each year and new prostheses every so often), and I paid for a new bathing suit. The garments have pockets to hold things in place. I walked out of there with a body hugging black tank top on like I was ready to show off my symmetry to the world. The self consciousness didn’t come until the next morning. From the P’s eye view, it’s not really a perfect match, but from the knowing observer’s view, it looks pretty convincing. From the view of someone who is not aware of my journey, I suspect there would be minimal curiosity spawned. I mean, how much time does anyone spend comparing left to right as they take in the human form? Also, I’m not sure how symmetrical any of us are anyway.
I’m reminded of the experience of moving to Hartford and then to Washington DC. I was not aware of how pathetically inexperienced I was in the land of race and skin color and had never really felt in the minority before that time. Perhaps a bizarre connection to my experience now, but I have not really been overtly breast conscious in the 47 years prior to this experience. Other than my experience in figure drawing classes, I had not really paid too much attention (from an aesthetic point of view) to the symmetry or shape of others’ breasts unless they were spilling out in front of me or were so big that I felt my back ache in sympathetic response. When I started walking for fitness again as the weather got warmer and warmer and my layers peeled off, I didn’t even think about my asymmetry. We walk at the golf course in the early morning when the landscapers and mowers are out in force. I was told once that it’s none of my business what other people think of me. This idea creats a shield for me I think, which protects me from being self conscious as my shape became more exposed. I do think sometimes that this is just the reality of breast cancer. I honestly don’t know what I’d think if I were the observer here. The opportunity has never presented itself, or at least I have not noticed anyone sans breast. There have only been a couple mornings as I’m sweating and walking up and around the course that I’ve noticed my consciousness of my form, but this doesn’t happen too often, nor does it linger or stop me from doing my thing. I honestly don’t think most people notice at all.
Anyway, I went to work the next day complete with insta-breast. As one might expect, as the day wore on, I became less and less aware of my special circumstances. I can credit this in part to a fabulously fitting bra (thanks Rhanda). I was not particularly fatigued or anything, having endured the whole day in my new contraption. For the first time I felt like I was wearing an over-the-shoulder-bolder-holder.
I resisted going into every colleague’s office asking for an assessment. BUT toward the end of the day, I did go into B’s office. She’s my fellow snowman loving friend. I pranced in, chest out and asked what she thought, as I twitched toward the left breast as a hint. She was fairly impressed. I mean, what are you supposed to say when a woman walks into your office asking you to look at her breasts and comment?? I was a good dube and kept my professional boundaries by not asking any male colleagues for their opinions.
Initially it feels in the way when I carry books in my left arm (Statue of Liberty style). It’s soft and all, but there, of course is no sensitivity. (It reminded me of lying on my stomach while I was pregnant. Something that hadn’t been there was there now, and it took some getting used to.) I was interested that I felt some, oh, I don’t know, grief or like I was this imposter or something. It didn’t linger, but I want to be honest about the experience. I had the “oh yea!” feeling as well, like, I think I remember what it was like to have one of these on that side, almost a familiar feeling of normalcy or something. What a mixed bag. By the end of the day, I was as oblivious to it as I could be on day 1.
I have to remember the reasons I chose not to get reconstruction immediately, and the reasons I still do not want reconstruction. This choice has worked very well for me so far. Being a rookie in the land of prosthetic breasts, I am, thus far, feeling good about the choice to get fitted. Some things just fit better. Shirts with buttons hang straight now. (Really!) The large majority of bathing suits are made to mold around breasts, even tiny ones. Sometimes I may just want to be balanced. I like that I have the option. I like that in the short time with this new companion that people have not even noticed anything. That’s the best feedback I could ask for.
I attended my 6 month follow up with Dr. Surgeon today, CD in hand with the digital images of my mammograms from the last 3 – 4 years. Here’s what she said: “The mammogram looks great!” “I would like to do an MRI in 6 months, alternating mammograms and MRI’s for two good runs.” This is in part because the mammogram was not a good diagnostic tool for me on it’s own, and the MRI really gave us the information we needed. I like this idea even if it means continued potential to glow in the dark.
Dr. Surgeon is just what I need. She has great bedside manner. She remembers my story. She asks about my family. She smiles a great big grin with good news and at the sight of curly hair. She shoots straight. She has a good balance of compassion and professionalism. I just have so much confidence in and respect for her. This has been so important for me, and I really recommend shopping around if someone is in need of a surgeon. I told her I’d be a poster child if she ever wanted to advertise the craftswomanship of her work. We laughed.
She asked about the port-a-cath, and I told her that Dr. Oncologist wanted to wait until the CT scan in September. I also mentioned that what her nurse said about some people keeping them in for years, and my dislike of that idea. She totally supports getting it out to reduce risk of blood clots among other reasons. She said it’s so easy to take out (local anesthesia for those who can stand being awake for such a thing), and another can be put back in if it is ever needed. I told her about all the complements on her placement of the port-a-cath and on the scar. She was appropriately humble.
She asked about B and the kids and said that husbands and partners frequently have a really hard time with the sense of helplessness that they experience. (This is in addition to the added responsibilities they must take on.) B and I noticed that we really were not able to quantify the amount of stress he was under during all of this. We also have noticed a significant drop in stress level as I have been able to resume my functioning. Taking his nose off the grindstone has been a wonderful thing for him and us. I think I’ve said before that he counts on me getting up at o’dark:30 as much as I do now. It means I’m back.
I have made an appointment to see the “fitta” next week for a prosthetic breast. I told Dr. Surgeon that I was not sure what would come of it but wanted to talk with her about options. Dr. S said “I think it’s a great idea. I know women who wear them once in a while with certain outfits. You can always just not use it, but having it gives you the option. With large breasted women, I recommend them to help with weight balance.” My insurance covers all of this stuff as long as there is a prescription, so she gave me a prescription for prosthesis and bras. The fitter has a boutique in the hospital and there are really beautiful bathing suits and camisoles and stuff for mastectomy women. SO, next week I will go up and talk with her and get measured so I can have an instant breast on the left side if I ever want it. I’ll tell you how it goes.
There. Now I feel like I can say with confidence that so far I have a clean bill of health. The scan in September will be the next step on the mission.