The Peak

Disclaimer – this post talks about mastectomy and reconstruction.  Gonna talk about the reality of what my body is going through and the removal of the girls.  It may make you uncomfortable.  No worries if you have to stop reading this.  Just know I appreciate each and every one of you! 

 

I am 27 days past my last standard chemotherapy infusion.  My head is still bald, I am still 30+ pounds overweight, and I have marks on my breasts showing where the surgeons are going to make incisions bright and early Tuesday morning to remove my breast tissue and insert “expanders” for my reconstruction surgery sometime in the future.  No – I do not want bigger breasts.  These devices should be called spacers.  Silicone balloons, sutured to the muscle wall and filled with saline at different intervals until you reach the desired size.  Yes they do expand the skin in some cases because skin is being removed.  They are just meant to hold a pocket of space between my skin and muscle for whatever I decide to use to create new breasts once mine have been removed.  It is a multi-step process.  Not everyone has to have multiple surgeries to reconstruct their breasts, but for me with the amount of chemotherapy I had, they want to give me some time to heal and think before I make the decision as to what type of reconstruction I want.  I am hoping to complete the process this year, but only God knows what my body will allow.

I am nervous.  Not really nervous – but the feeling that I would really rather not go through surgery is pretty strong.  I would really rather not have cancer.  I would really rather not have gone through 12 rounds of strong chemotherapy that hopefully killed all of the cancer cells, but also damaged other cells – maybe beyond my body’s ability to repair itself.  I am not happy to be walking this path, but I am continuing to take step after step trusting that this is what I am supposed to be doing.  That there is a greater lesson here for me to uncover.  Not completely sure what that is yet, but I am keeping my eyes, ears and heart open to hear the message.  My grief may have made me deaf to it for the short term, but I will continue to listen.

Before my cancer diagnosis, I was happy with my body.  Well, let me clarify.  I was overweight before then and not happy with that.  I was actually walking regularly and watching my calorie intake trying to lose weight slowly and permanently.  I have not been happy with my breasts since nursing my babies.  One is a full cup size larger than the other, my nipples grew from perfect little pink beauties to saucer-sized behemoths that do not in any way resemble my pre-baby breasts.  I had recently purchased comfy bras to wear while sleeping because I was tired of the sweat pooling where my breasts lay against my torso.  (I know, TMI) BUT – with all of these complaints, I had never even considered surgery to lift, augment or replace them.  Never considered surgery to flatten my belly.  Never even considered botox or cold sculpting – ok, maybe cold sculpting – but the $$$ was not really worth it in my opinion.  My imperfections are many, but they are – well – MINE.

So, with all of these complaints, why am I so hesitant to get new ones that may defy gravity well into my 80’s?  I don’t know really.  I just don’t wanna.  Like a 2-year-old who has just learned the power of the word NO, I just don’t want to do it.  No reasoning, no logic, nothing that makes sense, I just like me the way I am.  Faults and all.  I understand that this is the only way to confirm that the cancer in my breast is gone.  I understand that I could keep the currently non-cancerous breast, but that is the one we have been monitoring for the last three years because of cysts.  I understand that my decision for a bilateral mastectomy will not necessarily affect my survival chances or the chances of recurrence.  However, my head and heart tells me that I will feel better knowing that I went all in on this.  but still – I. Just. Don’t. Wanna!

I have never been one to go half-way.  So why the hesitation now?  Probably fear.  Probably the idea that I am forever changed by this disease.  Not only mentally, but I will have a physical reminder of the disease every time I undress for the shower.  We are not a modest family.  Five people sharing two showers means you go to the one not currently in use.  That usually means that there are naked people walking around the house most days.  My door is always open so my kids have all seen the glory that is their mom’s fat, hairless body.  It is what it is.  No shame here.  My body has been sculpted by pregnancy and my love of pie.  I might want to be thinner, but honestly in the war of thin versus pie – pie is gonna win EVERY time!

I know I will be fine.  I will press-on.  But this physical scar of the disease makes it really real.  My hair falling out was a symptom of the medicine.  Cancer didn’t make it happen, chemotherapy did.  Now that we are removing the cancer, the traitorous cells and tissue that changed my life forever, it is undeniable.  I can not pretend this is not happening.  I can not just march forward and not really mourn the loss.  I have cancer.  Sounds like a lie when I say it, but it is true.

So, Tuesday morning or Monday night, do me a favor and say a little prayer.  For me, my family, the doctors and nurses…anyone who will be working on me to rid my body of the tissues that attacked me.  Also, pray that I can find comfort in my new self.  The fight is not over, it may never be over, but this milestone is significant.  This is the peak of the first mountain I have climbed.  What peaks lie beyond, is still a mystery to me.  But I still have energy to keep climbing.  I thank YOU for that!!!

Peace, Love and Hope to you all!