January 8, 2014 - Strangely, Empowered!

I bet you didn’t expect to find me posting. I didn’t expect to find me posting. The outcome presented itself after repeatedly finding myself in places of people asking “what happened to you posts? I miss them” or “how am I supposed to keep up with you now” or “I was sharing this with a friend who was working to embrace mastectomy through your experience, now there is nothing to share…” I experienced this a good bit over the holidays and it prompted me to re-evaluate why I stopped writing, but more so it propelled me into this one post as an update to so many of you who have inquired and got my usual “good” canned response. To quote Ron when he asked me what I am working on as I sit here typing- “what in the world?” I’m surprised myself to see these words entering the page.


In quick summary: I am doing very well post mastectomy! It’s been a quiet 8 months since my last revision surgery on the imposters. I’m good and all is well with both Boob 1 and Boob 2.2. They found a new home and I accepted the new tenants. What more could I ask for? I still want my old boobs back, if given the choice, simply because they were mine purposed for me by my ancestors (Thanks Sarah and Jane!) but these imposters are a good second option since it came to that. That is the short and sweet reader’s digest version.


The in depth, more detailed, more analytical response is something, more like: I’ve successfully embraced mastectomy and all its triumphs and woes and surprisingly feel more accomplished as a female. The latter of that statement being the key point that has caught me off-guard. I have fake boobs, but I have success and a new oomph propelling me. I dodged breast cancer and gained a perspective I doubt I ever would have obtained without the mastectomies. Is it possible to lop off two sacks of saggy fat and find empowerment in the process? I once posted in response to Jolie’s choice to undergo prophylactic mastectomy. I was dissecting the attribution of “brave” I kept finding in the media. I struggled with that description early on. Now, I have a better understanding of that term. I do in fact think I’m more in tune with actively (as opposed to passively) engaging challenging situations after choosing mastectomy. Call it brave, call it empowered. It’s as if I found a “if I can choose this, I can choose and maneuver through anything” mentality. It’s of course not all success and triumph, we all recall my battle scars (and physical scars), read my old posts if you have forgotten, but I have risen above that, instead incorporating it in to a goulash of adjectives that go with this drastic medical procedure. I’m taking it all as a lump sum instead of selectively opting for some over the other. No longer do I grieve. No longer do I slink in and out in self-conscious movement. I’m out of my fog of unfamiliar. Instead, I just am. I’m empowered by the goulash of mastectomy. That’s a triumph, right? So yes, there is hope for you if you find yourself in the six week/ six month/ one year jumble of post mastectomy fog. I fully admit I don’t think there is any way another person that can fully prepare you for all that comes, but I will bet with great confidence that you will find yourself on the other side of those surreal emotions to embrace the journey with a perspective of “I just did that. I just did that. Really, I just did that!” Score: 1000! Looking back at past posts, I would question the how I got from there to here. But I did. And I don’t have to understand the how. There, all wrapped up in one long paragraph. As if.


This past week, Ron and I went through the loss of a parent. Ron’s dad lost his largely triumphant 2 year battle with recurrent melanoma. Five days before Christmas, after an admission to the hospital for abdominal pain, he decided he wanted to finish out his time in Home Hospice. So the family took him home for the remainder of his care. It was an intense week of caregiving, grieving, learning, observing, analyzing, loving, and the list goes on. He lived 9 more days at home. The last weeks/months of a cancer diagnosis can be intense. So many make it to overcome the disease, others are left with the outcome as Ron’s dad had. I, having been a lymphoma survivor and now a dodger of breast cancer, found myself whirling in the thoughts and emotions that come with being the survivor in the presence of someone still in their battle. Being in the career I am in, I battle this awareness on a daily basis, often subconsciously, others, as in the case of Ron’s dad, fully aware of the blessing (and curse) of survivorship. Likewise, I’m not naive to the blessing in the passage into the hereafter for those that succumb to the pains of advanced disease. Cancer carries a spectrum of manifestations, several of which are heart breaking for not only the patient, but the family. This understanding is what propelled me to the mastectomy choice I made. While amazing incredible life changing outcomes can be birthed from a cancer diagnosis, at times, it can carry a heartache that is challenging to soothe for all involved. Mastectomy most likely will save me and my family from the depths of a second cancer diagnosis. I was fully aware of that decision these last few weeks. Ron’s family navigated the emotions of a cancer death, but they also absorbed the riches that can come as well to those left behind. The incredible outpouring of community (over 600 people attended his visitation). The nostalgia of celebrating life. The inward pull of family propelling each other into the next day. They will not only survive this, they will enhance so many lives around them in the process of the journey. They found the blessing that can flow from confusion and illusion of the unfair. It’s a testament to what can happen when you actively seek out blessings in chaos. I’m grateful to have been there to observe it all.


I want to help people navigate it all. The choices, the outcomes, the ups, the downs, the complex ins and out of malignancy. Be it the active choice to lessen your risk through drastic decisions like mastectomy, or the journey that ensues following the diagnosis. I want people to see the triumph in survivorship, the triumph in death, and the amazing outcomes that can spawn from the despair of loss for those left behind. I truly believe in reason and purpose. I’m a survivor of life because of reason and purpose. I may have factory manufactured spheres of gel on my chest, but with that comes perspective and active seeking of what next. I gained an empowerment because I chose imposters. Face forward and navigate. There is much to be gained. And be sure and laugh a little at the absurdity of it all. That helps too.

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