How aware of breast cancer do you really want to be?

Do you want to see a woman with only one boob? Maybe you don't want to be that aware. (How about that for spooky?)

Remember when it was daring to go without a bra? What if women with breast prostheses didn't wear them in October? 

How aware do you really want to be?

Sadly, far too many are aware of breast cancer already, one way or another.  Me, I'm living through it a second time. Sort of. My cancer was sooooo 2019. Among the other challenges 2020 has brought, I am facing reconstruction of the same breast for a second time. 

The implant didn't fail, my skin did. A spontaneous wound appeared exposing the implant to contamination which meant the implant had to be removed. I could theorize as to exactly why a wound such as this might occur but the most basic of answers is the skin tissue was too thin, weakened when a hematoma was drained at that location less than a week after last year's mastectomy.

Rare, they say.

Hopefully, awareness will bring change. Actually dollars, one hopes, for research, for a cure. My challenges are relatively small (pun intended). I want to bring awareness in a different way - one that isn't pink and cheerful. I don't really want to be a part of this survivor/warrior/I-kicked-cancer's-ass club. 

Oh, I'm surviving. Better than that, I'm thriving and to be honest, I feel great in my own skin. Far better than I expected I would. For the first time in my life, I feel comfortable not wearing a bra. My husband's regret is that I didn't discover this freedom back when I had two boobs.

I'm discreet in public so don't worry about being too aware of breast cancer in the grocery store, say. But I might be wearing a hoodie that says "Uniboober" on it. Or, "one headlight." Or glasses that read, "My boobs were down there."

Sorry, breast cancer isn't funny. But at some point, one gets tired of crying. If you're facing now, I hope you're hanging in there.

What the actual F?

Good evening and welcome to "What’s Going on with My Boob?" This episode includes a deep dive into what the actual fuck wherein we will look at who said what to whom and when.

First, we have Dr. E who, if you remember was convinced that Dr. M refused to get involved my treatment. Dr. E now recommends that the patient (me) see Dr. M.

Dr. M now has to answer the question, "What the actual fuck?"

Join me as I interview multiple doctors, surgeons, and heads of very important departments as they all evade actual responsibility for my case. (Maybe they should run for office.)

Do I have cancer? No.

Do I have symptoms? No.

Am I overreacting? Probably.

But, then again, who knows? Stay tuned to see what does or does not develop.

Into the tunnel

And, so, the journey to healing begins. In reality, it probably began when I first sought medical attention. It's the first step in finding a way to be free of a disease or, in this case, free of a condition (that of having an open wound exposing me to infection). You could think of surgery as the beginning but it's really somewhere in the middle. Seeking answers is probably the beginning. Even before, being aware of a problem. 

Each step after that is toward some goal or resolution. Each decision is with an image in mind, a vision of the end result. 

There's a certain "been there, done that" (don't think they have a t-shirt for this yet) mentality this time around. This particular journey didn't start with a diagnosis of cancer. Rather, it is a Groundhog Day version of reconstruction, jumping into the middle of a story already in progress and getting stuck in an never-ending loop. (Although, I sincerely hope this is my last time around this particular track.) My point being, I think even my healthcare providers expect I know what to expect.

With the cancer diagnosis I was guided through every step. I had a three-inch binder telling me everything I could expect. This time, I'm asking my surgeon's staff things like, "should I sleep on my back or be propped up on pillows?" They look at me and blink saying, "I don't know. I'll ask the doctor." And, then, they never get back to me. In a perverse way, I'm glad I had cancer last year. At least, I received the tools I need to take care of myself this year.

Hubby is the same. He's been great in the Picking Up The Slack department though I was pretty well organized before the surgery. I got stocked up on groceries and had meals in the freezer. The laundry was done and the sheets had been changed. He hasn't had to do much but I'll give him 5 stars for letting me do nothing.

In the In Sickness or In Health department, I would give him 3 stars. He hasn't been attentive to my schedule regarding when to take my medications (or times when I need to eat so I can take my meds) or when to empty my drains. I've done that mostly on my own. But, when it came to taking off my bandages, he was right there beside me as I saw myself for the first time without one breast. We dealt with my body's new image together and it was fine. We were ready, supportive, and caring.

He gets no points for Pampering. I have had zero coffees in bed. Just before surgery, my office mates ponied up a total of $45 to be added to my Starbucks card for my birthday. (They know me so well.) I was already in quarantine in anticipation of the surgery so I couldn't go out to get one for myself and I didn't want to risk Hubby bringing home something more than coffee by going out to get it for me. I told him that I was looking forward to have a triple grande soy latte in bed the day after surgery - the popsicle to my doctor's visit - but three days later, it has yet to materialize. 

I'm griping now because I actually made him coffee.

Maybe it's more than my body that needs to heal!

I can tell you that regrets and unfulfilled expectations are no salve and won't do anything to help my body heal. Moving forward, trusting, being patient, and accepting my image as it is - that's what I'm learning. And I'm also learning that small kindnesses are important to me and that it makes me feel good when I do those things for others. 

The surgery went well. The pain and bleeding were minimal. It's only the drain that bothers me now. It's in a very awkward place and I keep getting tangled in the tubing and yanking on the stitches. I'll ask if I can get that removed tomorrow. 

Despite the lack of bedside coffee, there is a light at the tunnel. It's bright and joyful and I'm headed straight for it. All will be well enough.

You said it, sister.

Astra understood how I felt but also confirmed that DCIS is referred to as “Stage 0,” a “pre-cancer,” and sometimes, even, a “non-cancer.” It was validating for her to tell me that sometimes a diagnosis of DCIS is even harder than, say, a diagnosis of Stage 1 because it’s not something you can see. It’s not something you can feel. It’s not invasive. Yet, it’s treated exactly like any other breast cancer. The only evidence of it is a few tiny white grains on a grayscale image and a single core needle biopsy. It represents a tiny amount of information upon which very big decisions must be made in a very short period of time.

This is an undated entry in my journal from last year.

A few tiny white grains begot a mastectomy and now second one - only this time, I won't be able to do immediate reconstruction. This, I learned today. It's not what I wanted but it seems it's the only option at this point.

A surgeon will remove my breast on October 8.

All in all, it's not the worst thing that can happen. Shit, a friend of mine just let me know their son died of an accidental overdose. That would be worse. 

On the other hand, I'm not sure pain is relative except as to oneself. So, sucks for me.

I'll get through this. Really, I can do this. It'll be bumpy (bad choice of words) but at the end of the road I will be (theoretically) restored. It'll take time, patience, and trust - and I'm not necessarily good with any of those things.

In the meantime, I'll try to amuse myself by designing snarky breast cancer awareness apparel. For example, a pink hoodie that reads "uniboober."

And, maybe I'll eat more ice cream.

A doctor a day keeps the apple away.

 Oh, wait. That's not how it goes, is it?

October is Breast Cancer Awareness Month

 Can I say I would rather not?