“The universe delivered me a beautiful gift in hideous packaging.” Author: Susan Rebecca White in A place at the Table.
Have you ever been dealt something in life that you truly wondered "could this possibly be any worse than it is"? While this quote doesn’t apply to the gift I received in the mail as it was a beautiful gift in beautiful packaging, boy is the quote ever so fitting for my mastectomy. Hideous packaging in an understatement (ok, so maybe a smidge of an overstatement as hideous really is a very strong word, but you get the idea). This process has been way more involved and life changing than I ever could have imagined. While the scars were somewhat better than I ever expected, the turmoil of the process and its effects on “life” were so much more. Never could I have imagined how this would turn some weeks upside down. How much I would dread a surgical drain. How I would sit in the middle of a play on my birthday while infusing antibiotics for my cellulitis. How I WOULD actually care what they looked like afterwards. How I would cry at the drop of a hat early on in this process…and it always stupidly timed itself in the middle of a medical appointment with the surgeons. How much this would affect Ron as he tried to navigate me. How much money would be involved. How much impact it would have on everyday life in the immediate after and how I would detest the physical isolation being cooped up at home after each procedure.
But you know what? I also never imagined how much joy I would get in that chaos. The relationships that would form. The triumphs of going through pain with a spouse. Those little moments in the middle of the night where I look over and see Ron lying in the floor next to me because if I am not comfortable in the bed, neither is he. Those times when you run into a friend who has had mastectomy and you feel that immediate bond of “I know your struggle”. The tears that flow in unison with friends while you all sit in a booth at a restaurant because they care so much about you. Dinner that arrived on a doorstep and cards that arrived in the mail. The humor I would find in the most ridiculous of moments like when doing my strength exercises in my kitchen doorway. Or when I realize every single article of clothing or swimwear I owned would fit quite differently 2 weeks later. And therein lies the beauties of mastectomy. It was the most hideous of packages (this need for mastectomy) but out came the most beautiful gifts of life. I wouldn’t change a single moment of it. Truly I wouldn’t, because I am so much more of a woman after this journey, despite thinking I might be so much less. I am not defined as a woman by these missing breasts, but I most certainly am defined by the triumphs, and relationships, and personal growth that come out of it. I would do it all over again. Every single minute of it.
And therefore, I am trying to go into surgery number 6 next week with this mindset. I purposely wake up every morning mixing my dread with my optimistic anticipation of what can come. Every moment of this is an opportunity to forge more of what I have already gotten. Ron and I will have more “moments” under our marriage belt. I know more tears will flow, as they are flowing even as I type this words, but through those tears come understanding and an in-depth awareness of Sally and what molds me. I know there will be more relationships forged, just as occurred with the arrival of the “perfect shirt” in the mail. We are all a community of people surviving life…and as stated in previous posts, hopefully thriving! Mastectomy makes me better at being me. As did lymphoma. As did cleft lips. As did heart break. As did loss. As did a period of time where I had no boobs. I loathed it. But I am a better version of me because of it. I may have left a little piece of me behind in various places along the way, but I certainly made up for that in what I gained.
“The universe delivered me a beautiful gift in hideous packaging” is so nicely coupled with the old hymnal verse “To God be the glory, great things he has done.” I can still hear mom and dad in my head belting this out from the pew.
