Tuesday, October 9, 2018

My thoughts on having had breast cancer.... it is more than just pink.

I usually write about thyroid cancer, but as I have said before, this is a "2 fer" blog, so today, I will write about breast cancer. I decided to write a blog on this  because this is national breast cancer month and also because it helps me to write about my feelings, and hopefully, what I have to say will help others,too. Let me say that while I appreciate all of the " pink" and well wishes from others, there is so much more to breast cancer than anyone other than a breast cancer survivor could imagine.

I am a three year breast cancer " survivor." I use that word loosely, because frankly my life has changed forever. Most people think that after a person who has had breast cancer has survived a year or two, we should be able to put this behind us and move on. While I am grateful beyond measure for the love and support that I have received from my family and friends- especially during my surgery and chemotherapy- this " thing that happened to me" is forever a part of me. I now deal with issues, both large and small, on a daily basis. Will this shirt fit ? ( translation: will it have a gap in the top), will I ever be able to find a bra that fits and is comfortable? ( after three years, I finally have found one) and the uncomfortable and worrisome thought of getting hit in the chest by someone, accidentally of course, or perhaps getting burned or having frost bite on my chest( I am numb most places on  my chest, and my plastic surgeon warned me about heating pads causing burns and ice packs causing frost bite). It is sort of humorous, but cooking and leaning over a hot burner gives me pause.

Of course, the bigger issue that every person who has had breast cancer worries about ( or people who have had  other cancers for that matter) is the fear of recurrence. I have my twice yearly  breast cancer check up next month and while I dread it, I also realize that afterwards, if everything turns out well, I can relax for a while. I have mentioned in previous blogs that the smell of the hand soap in the oncologists office makes me nauseous. It is the spark that lights the fire of flashbacks for me, I suppose.

One of the most traumatic memories for me, one that is seared in my brain for eternity, to be dramatic, is when my plastic surgeon made his final visit in the hospital before my surgery. I was sitting on the edge of the hospital bed, IV in place," beautiful "hospital gown on, and my husband had just stepped out of the room. My plastic surgeon came in and asked me to take my hospital gown down. He had a black sharpie in his hand, and proceeded to mark all over my chest- around both of my breasts. After weeks of preparation for this day- all of the tests, the doctor visits, talks with my family, reading up on the surgery and discussions with my breast cancer friends, it all  came down to this. The act of marking on my chest made it suddenly all too real. Yes, this is happening to me. Yes, I am losing my breasts. Some well meaning people told me " Oh, they are just breasts! You will get new ones, perky ones!" A word of advice to others, please, please do not say that to a breast cancer patient! My breasts were more than just mounds of tissue and blood vessels. My breasts lovingly nourished both of my children when they were babies. They were a big part of making me feel like a woman. Heck, they made it possible for some of my favorite shirts to fit nicely.

After my breasts were gone, I looked in the mirror and wondered " Who is that person looking back at me?" " Where do I go from here, what do I do now?" To be honest, I am still working on answering those questions. The 3D nipple and areola  tattoos that I had done by Vinnie Myers ( a saint in my book) have helped me tremendously. I really understand when I read about other women getting even more ornate tattoos to cover their mastectomy scars.  We have all lost something irreplaceable. But having the power to put something that we pick out, we control, back on our chests balances the scales a little.

I could never wear pink very well- it clashed with my red hair. But I do appreciate all of  the people that do so in support and honor of all of the people who have had or have breast cancer. But there is more to the story than just pink. And I am still working out the chapters.

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