Day 29: By calendar dates, tomorrow marks one month since the mean ole mastectomy joined my list of "I have dones". I'd much prefer adding sky diving or dog sledding to the list (everyone knows how much I adore a sled dog!), but alas...mastectomy it is. It certainly wasn't on my "top 10" to-dos. But life doesn't always come in top 10s. I now join a glorious club though and am honored to be part of the amazing women who also chose life over the other possibles. I'm in excellent company. Some prophylactic as I, others as a life saving choice in response to a diagnosis. Maybe there should be a mastectomy wall of fame honoring some of those women. Can you picture that? If we can honor a baseball player making millions of dollars a year (really?), why not the face of these women fighting for their lives for free? I shall create this wall of fame in my head. Better yet, feel free to use the comment section below to honor someone you want on this wall. What is better than honoring a struggle or a triumph?
I actually don't personally know anyone else who did this prophylactically, especially someone who was Brca gene negative as I was, so I will start the wall of fame with Sarah Steegar Delaney. She's on facebook, look her up to see picture of what courage looks like.
She and I went to middle school and highschool together, her a year younger than I. I first was diagnosed with cancer- lymphoma when I was 16. I imagine for those kids in my social reach, I was the first contact many of them had with cancer. Back then, it seemed so rare. Now it seems so every day. So to Sarah, I imagine, I was an oddity, but I was someone she (and everyone) else supported and encouraged. We graduated and went our separate ways as so often happens. Little did we know, about 14 years later, she would have her go at cancer- breast cancer. I actually found out about after the fact - well, maybe in the middle of her journey- through a mutual friend. I do recall her posts about an upcoming reconstruction procedure and me thinking how foreign that sounded. It was my first taste of breast cancer and mastectomy up close. Not just a mention of it, but a taste of the emotions behind the journey. I even recall posts about boob shopping! I always chuckle when I think of that. She fought the fight at an age that used to be unthinkable, went through the chaos of chemo, disrupted a life that was going perfectly fine, and the she kicked breast cancer in the hiney! All with a head held high and advocacy on the radar. Naturally, when I decided to do this mastectomy, she was my first non-family contact. Even though I wasn't facing breast cancer I wanted to hear first hand what options were out there, what she chose, and the words for the wise. She was my sanity for a few days there, and I bet she didn't even know that. Anyway, Sarah, if you are reading this...welcome to my Wall of Fame! I'll add in Rachel Treichler who tackled this with two young children in tow. Enough said.
Ok, back to what I thought was going to be the original intent of this post (how easily I get distracted)...I DROVE! Even I don't believe it, and I stand in awe of my audacity. It was a pathetic attempt. Embarrassing on all accounts. Not even 5 miles. People passing me on my left, looking right with a glare, me holding on for dear life at a casual stroll of 35-50 mph. I even hear a car horn. (I, too, detest sunday drivers so I don't blame them at all). My grip, that of hercules. My knuckles, closely resembling a hot tamale. My purpose, conquering my fear! I DID IT! I don't know when I will get my nerve up to do it again, but that is beside the point. I did notice I had a really freaky elbow angle the whole time. Fully straightening my arms is awkward. I'm working on that in my Lead surgeon mandated exercises, but I have a ways to go. Until then, awkward arm positioning it will be. It's not like I'm getting graded. It's truly pass/fail. And I will have you know I passed. (I almost wet my pants, but I passed all the same). I promise to drive again soon. But soon is a relative term.
And then there is still the minor issue with the mirror- still unconquered. Starring at me with it's tongue sticking out. Cackling each time I pass. But I have a mitigation strategy I am working on. I'll show that mirror! It has no control over me. Well, it does right now, but not for long! (Feel free to toss out some words of encouragement. Even I don't believe this plan.) God is bigger than the mirror, right?
7 comments:
I'm so honored to be on your wall of fame! Makes my day. :) Don't forget to put yourself on there! x Sarah Steegar
My two cents on the mirror issue...some people cook by putting all the ingredients together, putting it in the crockpot or oven, and letting it be until the "voila" when it's done. Others keep lifting the lid or opening the oven to see how...it's going. I think both are legitimate approaches and they "mirror" (get it?) your possible approaches to the mirror. You can look along the way, or wait until you are closer to the "voila" moment. Or...close your eyes and have Ron/Mom take pictures that you can look at AFTER the fact, when you've had your "voila" moment. I realize I am comparing self-acceptance with cooking and they are worlds apart in some respects, but I guess I'm saying there isn't a "right" way to handle post-surgery, you make your own "right" by what you are comfortable with. Go easy on yourself, I say, and it will happen when it happens. Love you! Kat Tinsley
Kat, I very much like your thoughts here. Sally
Well, I remember my "reveal". The hospital counselor strongly preferred for patients to "look" for the first time WITH their partners. I did not like this idea at all, because it felt so confrontational. I wanted to look and deal with it pr...ivately. So I could wrap my head around it and pull myself together and...all that. But I trusted her judgement (she's the expert after all) so I agreed to do it her way. I did not look until Del (and my sister) were in the room. I was absolutely dreading it. And then the moment came...we held our breaths...they unwrapped it and we went..."oh. Well that's fine." And I was so glad I listened to her. Because even though it did look fine - they had done a fantastic job - there was magic in the moment of loved ones being let in on such a personal moment, and all of us realizing at the same moment that it actually mattered very little what it actually looked like right then. All any of us cared about was that we were all watching each other to make sure we were ok. And there was such strength and support in that, that the rest did not matter much at all. All the power and anxiety was taken out of the issue in a moment. Now, maybe it would not be the same for you, but I can hope so. It was a nice surprise for us all. It taught me a lot.
Sarah Steegar Delaney
Sarah- I needed to hear this! There are a few moments (documented in a few posts back) in the past few weeks where I have been dreading this like no body's business. Read these two posts "sept 4 denial, it's what for dinner". I would love to get your perspective on my struggle there. Hearing your similarities makes me feel a bit more normal about this whole thing. Ron saw them a long time ago out of necessity, and I still have to yet to see them in their whole. Only from looking down. Anyway, they are great work, but they aren't "mine" and that is what I am struggling with.
Sally
Wait- Sarah, read these 3 posts: August 28 Seven Bras, August 31 Pot recon appt details, Sept 4 Denial it's what's for dinner. See if you felt any of this.
Sally
Sarah, your description is eloquent. There is so much to be said for "walking in the shoes"....
Kat Tinsley
Post a Comment