This week, we are back to mastectomy updates. At certain time points, I want to revisit the boob "status" so you have a concept of what to expect and when if you are in the middle of mastectomy. For this update, it’s been 9
months since surgery #6 and 3 years and 9 months since the mastectomy itself. Visually, Boob 1 and Boob 2.2 are pretty spot on. They do in fact mirror the former tenants, with
the exception of a few scars. All and all, we have
two boobs and therefore goal achieved. While visually, they pass inspection, there are other
aspects that remain a wee bit (or a lot of bit) wonky. I will start with sensation. We’ve touched on
this topic before, but I wanted to update you on the timing in case this
information is helpful to you in the future.
Let me introduce you to Ghost Boob. As a refresher, the breast is comprised of glandular tissue, ducts, fat
tissue, connective tissue, nerves, blood vessels and lymphatic vessels. Those
contents sit on top of the chest wall muscles. During the mastectomy procedure,
the entire contents of the breast (+/- the skin itself and the nipple) are
removed all the way down to the chest wall muscle. During reconstruction (as I
had; there are several ways to reconstruct a breast) a pocket is created within
the chest wall muscle and the implant is slipped into the pocket. This serves
as a holster per se for the weight of the implant to be supported. While the
implant is used to provide the breast structure, during reconstruction the
nerves, blood supply, adipose, and ducts are not returned to the breast. As a
result, women have a change in sensation, a sort of numbness due to the lack of
nerve endings, in the new breast. I’ve mentioned before what a strange feeling
this is to run your hand down your neck over the breast and onto the stomach. Feeling,
no feeling, feeling. It’s identical to what you (don’t) feel when you touch
your hand after it has fallen asleep. Ghost Boob! Overtime, some women regain
some (though usually not all) of the ability to feel pain or the sensation of
touch on the breast as nerve endings start to regrow in the area. So now, 3 years
and 9 months later, I can feel about half (the upper half) of my breasts. The
bottom half of the breasts are still Ghost Boobs. What I love about this is
when I go swimming I don’t have to worry about that awful moment of slinking
your chest down in to freezing cold water. I simply can’t feel it. What I
loathe about this, well, is that it is just plain weird. I’m not going to go
into great detail here, but there also is the impact on intimacy. You simply
need to know that if you are headed toward mastectomy. It is just something you
don’t realize going in. The good news is a year ago I truly could feel nothing,
so we have some progress as times goes on. It took about 3 years to
regain half of my feeling back.
Enter stage left - Frost Boob. The other wonky thing is also around the touch sensation.
Imagine you just ran 3 miles (or for some of us 0.0 miles). Your body temperature is soaring as you attempt
to dissipate heat. Touch your stomach and it feels very warm to the touch.
There may be a cool sensation on top of the warmth as you sweat out fluid,
leaving a clammy sensation overall. So
while your body is in temperature overload, if you touch your breast at the
same time, it is cool as a cucumber. Frost Boob. This is a result of having a
lessened blood supply to that area. Remember, the blood vessels were also
removed during the mastectomy. Blood flow is what brings warmth to an area. Limited
blood flow, cool to the touch. Over time, like nerves, blood vessels too start
to regrow, but the numbers are less. At 3 years 9 months Frost Boob still prevails.
It’s simply awkward, and quirky, and a good party trick??? Ok, no, but you get
the idea. It’s just something, like Ghost Boob, that you don’t know about going
in unless someone tells you. Now you know. This aspect of cold to the touch,
unlike ghost boob, has not improved over time as of yet.
Unrelated to sensation, enter stage right: Boob Brain. Early on in this ongoing process of
breast reconstruction, there wasn’t a single day (hour?) I didn’t think about the new
boobs. I simply always had these boobs on my brain. Part of the all-consuming thought process
was simply related to being in the middle of it. Day in and Day out. Early only your entire day is related to the boobs. Change the bandage, empty the drains, log the output, take your meds, keep your arms at your side, avoid looking at them, look at them, don't do this, do do that. It was 24 hours of boob brain! But as the weeks went on, the tasks became less, and then the thoughts would lessen too. But at any moment something would happen and Boob Brain would kick right back into gear. For me, every 6
months or so it was another surgery, so just when I would get out of the thought
process and back to normal life, I would find myself right back where I started again. Even on a “normal month” early on you still have at least a daily thought of these
boobs being what they are (or are not). Well now, with this being the first
time that I have gone 9 months without a surgery, it is awesome to see that
there are some days when they don’t even cross my mind at all. And to say that
is progress would be an understatement, it’s triumphant really! I truly didn't understand going in how 2 little sacks of gel could carry so much punch...or thought. But they do. And maybe I can soon say "they did". I am getting there, past this.
I guess the most recent months of having less boob on the brain is a
testament that life does in fact eventually return back to normal. You can't rush it. You just have to wait until it suddenly arrives. You will get to the point where
the breasts move out of your foreground and in to your background, only to be
thought of when you slip down into the freezing cold water…and feel nothing. Or at other random moments when anyone would be thinking about their breast (Changing clothes? Or trying on new bras? Or what not). There is a time point when the reconstructed breast no longer defines you. Instead of
defining you, it now merely designs you in that you are a changed being by its
presence. Not so much the breast itself, but the journey of getting there. You hear
stories of people who have a brush with death and how life simply looks different,
more precious, altered on the other side. Mastectomy, when prophylactic/chosen,
doesn’t necessarily carry the same weight as my brush with lymphoma did, but it
did change me in ways I might not have expected. While an implanted boob is most
certainly a boob, it carries a different weight. Both literally and
figuratively. More insight provoking. More impressionable. More focusing. I see life with
newly tweaked lenses which brings certain things into better focus with a better alignment
of perspective. While the feeling of touch, the sensation of cold, and even the thoughts of the breast may
transition over time, I hope my more finely focused perspective of mastectomy
remains with me always. I simply appreciate Post-Mastectomy Sally and all she
brings to my “after” life. I may be a little “off” at certain stages along the
way, but I certainly carry a new depth. And with that comes an advocacy I didn’t
carry before. Advocacy for empowering women with knowledge. Advocacy for loving
your body where it is. Advocacy for the spouses of mastectomy. Maybe even a
little advocacy for just doing life in general and doing it well with people in
tow – mastectomy or not. But when there is mastectomy, just know it isn’t the
end all, be all. But rather it is a starting point for what comes next in life.
There is an “after mastectomy”. Three years, 9
months. I’m getting there with Ghost Boob and Frost Boob as my side kicks.
Click www.tradinginthetatas.blogspot.com to access other posts.
Click www.tradinginthetatas.blogspot.com to access other posts.
