Fellow Soldiers

Yesterday I had a great telephone conversation with Suzi, my girlfriend Winda’s mom.  Suzi was diagnosed with breast cancer shortly after I was diagnosed, and we have the same cancer care team at Virginia Mason.  Suzi has been like a mom to me since I first met her, and going through this process together has brought us closer.

We connected yesterday because we received some troubling news this week — Dr. Pinder, our amazing oncologist, is leaving Virginia Mason in March.  Neither Suzi nor I know the details of Dr. Pinder’s departure, but I have an appointment with Dr. Pinder next week and I hope she’ll share with me the reason for her move and where she’s moving to.  I have taken for granted how awesome it has been to have an all-female cancer care team, and the thought of not having Dr. Pinder as my oncologist causes me anxiety as I enter this new phase of treatment.  Although I know I’ll be well taken care of by any of the other oncologists at Virginia Mason, Dr. Pinder is very special.  She puts a smile on my face every time I’m at the hospital.  I know that sounds weird, but her always pleasant demeanor and genuine concern for my health and welfare have made my treatment bearable.  Suzi feels the same way, so we vented to each other about what we will do without Dr. Pinder at our side.

Suzi had her mastectomy about a month before mine and her reconstruction is scheduled a month after mine begins.  She’s having an autologous procedure using her own tissue to reconstruct her breast, so we caught up a bit on the differences between our procedures and how we’re both doing after our respective mastectomies.  Talking to Suzi reminded me of how comforting it is to talk to other women who are going through (or have gone through) similar battles with breast cancer.  It’s a shitty way to be connected to other women, but the support and unconditional love that I have received from fellow breast cancer survivors are invaluable.  There are often times when I’m talking to fellow breast cancer survivors when I don’t have to say a thing — they get where I’m coming from without me having to explain.  There’s a lot of comfort in knowing that they understand how I’m feeling.  Sometimes, my fellow soldiers remind me of how I’m really feeling inside.  It’s very easy to remain in “survival mode” during this process, which requires a lot of denial.  There’s no space for feeling sad or angry or depressed when you’re trying to keep a positive attitude about life so that you can make it to the next step of treatment.  During my talk with Suzi yesterday, it was cathartic to hear her say certain things about her fears and inhibitions about her treatment and reconstruction.  I’ve been feeling the exact same way but have been discounting those feelings or not paying attention to them.  It definitely shook up my world to think about the difficult parts of my upcoming surgery and the hardship that will soon follow, but it is necessary to confront those issues before I’m on the operating table on Friday.

Suzi predicts that she and I will have lots of ups and downs during the reconstruction process and I know she’s right.  There will be days where I will wonder what the fuck I have done to my body and question the reasons for choosing to reconstruct my breasts.  There will be other days where I will look at myself in the mirror and there will be no question that I made the right decision.  Although I’m feeling very emotionally overwhelmed right now, I need to remind myself that I must deal with life one day at a time.  Yesterday was a tough day and I am glad I had Suzi to talk to.

Finally, for today’s snippet of the soundtrack of my life, I turn to my girl Diana Ross: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Uf4P6rGMxWs.

Change and a Lust for Life

My friend Troy organizes a regular photography showcase a few times a year.  He announces a theme, our friends have a week to shoot the theme, we each submit 1-2 photos for the showcase at the end of the week, and then we have an “opening” (usually simultaneous shows in San Francisco and Seattle) for everyone to see each other’s work and vote on their favorites.  Usually my friends from all over the world participate.  I love this event.  In my job, I feel like I am often deprived of right-brain stimulation and this event challenges me and gives me the artistic outlet I crave.

Troy just announced this photo showcase’s theme — change.  Now this is an obvious theme for many many reasons (the New Year and Obama’s inauguration, to name a couple), but as you can imagine this theme has specific value to me right now.  I’ve gone through a shitload of change this past year and I am about to launch into another round of change next week Friday when I have my reconstruction surgery.  I was just telling my girlfriend Eza yesterday that prior to my diagnosis I was a creature who feared and loathed change.  This aspect of my personality kept me in relationships I should have walked away from sooner, at jobs I shouldn’t have endured for as long as I did, and from truly experiencing all the things that life on the periphery and in the unknown has to offer.  I very rarely stepped outside of my routine. 

I decided that I was going to be an attorney when I was in the 5th grade.  I realized at that young age that I was good at arguing and the thought of an attorney in the family made my father extremely happy, so I decided that that would be my career.  Done deal.  While in high school, I blueprinted out my life further — I would find my husband while in college, I’d have my first kid right after law school, and I’d have my 2.5 kids, dog, and white picket fence by the time I was 30.  The thought of such a life now makes me laugh.  That life may be perfect for a lot of people, but not me.  I look back on my path and I can’t imagine my life unfolding any other way.   My experiences with Karla turned my world upside down.  I have been forced to accept change and run with it.  Don’t get me wrong — change still causes me some anxiety and discomfort, but now, for the first time I’m learning to be excited about not knowing what each day holds and where my path will lead.  I have learned so much in the past decade and am excited to learn more.  In the words of Iggy Pop, I have a lust for life.  And change will be an inevitable part of my journey.

Speaking of Iggy Pop, I am in the process of renewing my relationship with music.  I’ve rediscovered my ipod after several months of not touching it and am in the process of redefining the “soundtrack of my life” right now.  With lots of change in my world and all around me, it’s interesting how my soundtrack has evolved and continues to change each day.  That said, I will try to end each blog entry with a song from my soundtrack that day.  Fittingly, here’s the first: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ojl2KLCGT4I

Deja Vu — Surgery Indecision Again

WTF?  Here I am, wanting my reconstruction to start ASAP, when I am pleasantly surprised by a quick surgery date.  So why am I experiencing a ton of anxiety?  I didn’t realize this until the surgery date was locked in, but I am just now getting used to my boobless body.  And to be honest, I have come to love it in a way.  Don’t get me wrong, I do get depressed at times when I look at my scars and I’m not totally comfortable with my “deformed” chest, but after three months of healing (physically and emotionally), I feel like I have settled into my new skin.  I am back to working out regularly (it’s amazing how active one can be with no pain when you don’t have boobs), I have figured out what looks good on me and what doesn’t, people close to me have gotten used to how I look, and I love not having to deal with a bra in the morning or when I work out.  I’m not sure I’m ready to go under the knife again and deal with a totally different body when I come out the other side.

Here’s the thing – I haven’t processed this until now, but perhaps my flat chest, though emotionally painful to deal with in certain contexts, is a badge of honor.  It’s a physical marker of my battle this last year.  I’m now emotionally taking stock of what just happened.  In a sense, the adrenaline is now wearing off and I’m actually processing the experience.  I want to hold on to this feeling for a while.  A sense of control again after a year of absolute fucking chaos.  Knowing who I am and not being in a constant state of change and uncertainty.  I finally have my feet firmly planted on the ground, but this eminent surgery date makes me feel like I’m going to be uprooted all over again.  On many levels, I just want the fucking roller coaster to stop. 

And bear with me as I vent fully, but on a totally petty note, I’m worried about looking fatter when the boobs go in.  Right now, I look slim because I have no boobs.  I’m short — 5′1″ on a good day.  In high school, I noticed girls my height with big boobs and they all looked a bit on the bigger side, even if they were small everywhere else.  Interestingly enough, Karla was one of them.  She had huge breasts on a very small frame.  And yes, all the boys in our school, including my high school sweetheart, noticed.   Sorry, I digress.  My point is this — Dr. Paige has already told me that he needs to go a bit bigger in order for the reconstruction to look as natural as possible, and I am all for having the surgery done right.  I’m just a bit apprehensive of how my body will change, what it will look like when the reconstruction is complete, and how my new body may affect my activity level. 

At the end of the day, I know that I want the reconstruction done at some point, and with the opportunity to get it done now, I need to take this opportunity and run with it.  Thank god for therapy.  I have a session next week and hopefully I’ll be able to work out most of these issues before my surgery.

Act II Begins — Game On!

Today I met with Dr. Paige, one of the plastic surgeons I have been consulting with for my breast reconstruction.  I feel like I’m pretty much healed up from my mastectomies and when I met with Dr. Pinder a couple months ago, she thought it would be a good time for me to meet with Dr. Paige to finalize the timeline for my reconstruction.  After all of my initial reservations about Dr. Paige, I do believe he is a talented plastic surgeon and it feels right to have him do my reconstruction.  What’s funny is I think he may have read my blog, because when I told him today that I was ready to schedule my surgery with him, he asked me if I was “comfortable” with him doing the surgery.  I know his question could mean a number of things, but the look in his eye made me think that he’s been reading my blog.  I hope he is.  Dr. Paige, if you’re reading this – I trust you.  Please don’t fuck up.

Dr. Paige reminded me that the whole breast reconstruction process will take approximately one year from start to finish — surgery to insert the “expanders,” then his office will fill the expanders  with saline over the course of 3-4 months to stretch out my skin and tissue to accommodate the implants, then a second surgery to switch out the expanders for the actual implants, then nipple reconstruction.  It’s a much more involved process than the bilateral mastectomy was, and he reminded me that I need to be patient. 

The most intriguing part of today’s discussion with Dr. Paige was about the appropriate size of implants.  Dr. Paige explained that with a breast reconstruction, you don’t want to go too small because the reconstruction will then look like two halves of an orange glued to a wall — not very natural.  I told him that I don’t want to go too big because I’m pretty active and I don’t want to look like a circus freak.  However, I also told him that if I’m going to have the surgery, I might as well have the surgery.  He laughed.  Obviously, I gave him two opposing approaches to my reconstruction.  In the end, I told him that I was thinking about a “B” cup.  He agreed, saying that he thought that 400 cc implants would be appropriate.  He then showed me what I think is a 275 cc implant and I realized the magnitude of the process in front of me.  I also got a bit excited about my future boobs.

When I met with Dr. Paige’s operating room (“OR”) scheduler, she totally floored me with the timeline for surgery.  I was expecting Dr. Paige to be booked at least three months out, meaning the the first of two surgeries for my reconstruction (not including nipple reconstruction) would be scheduled for the end of March at the earliest.  However, today I found out that he has an opening on January 30th.  That’s in a few weeks!  I snagged that date with the OR scheduler, walking out of the hospital in pure shock.  I will have begun the long, rough road to reconstructed boobs in less than three weeks, and that’s a lot sooner than I was expecting.  I’m pretty excited.

Continuing to “Own” My Experience

With my hair growing out like a Chia Pet and the last of the discoloration of my fingernails chopped off right before Christmas, I’m almost back to looking “normal.”  So now the only thing that is “abnormal” is how flat my chest is.  Although it’s not obvious if I wear layers of clothing (a necessity in Seattle this time of year), when I’m chillin’ with a t-shirt on, it is evident (at least to me) that my body is abnormal.  My friends tell me that there’s nothing strikingly unusual about my body shape — I just look like a flat-chested woman.  But every day, I feel the emotional impact of the fact that my body is different.  Kissing a guy and feeling anxious about what he’ll think if we embrace in a way that will reveal my flat chest.   Being asked to take my sweatshirt off at an airport security check point and worrying about the people in line looking at me and my flat chest.  And at the most petty level, feeling sad that there is a whole section of my closet that I can’t touch because the clothes require boobs. 

I’m at a point where I could buy a custom bra and prostheses, but I kinda feel the same way about boobie prostheses as I did about buying a wig when I lost my hair.  I want to “own” this experience for what it is, and it feels a bit dishonest (for lack of a better word) to go around with some silicone balloons in a bra.  Not to mention how uncomfortable and tedious it would be to put on that kind of hardware every day.  If there’s anything I’m learning from this process, it is to be honest with myself about what’s going on and how I feel about what’s going on.  So I don’t have boobs.  Big deal.  I just battled cancer and hopefully won.  I will have my reconstruction done soon enough and there’s no need to “fake it out” while I wait for the reconstruction.

“Owning” my experience in this regard makes me want my reconstruction done soon.  Although I am regaining range of motion and strength in both my arms and shoulders, I’m also getting tired of enduring the day-to-day mental and emotional consequences of not having boobs.  As I’ve said before, I just want to be as close to “normal” as plastic surgery can make me.  I’m ready to put this chapter behind me and start living my life again, but right now, I feel like I’m in limbo and still in survival mode, cleaning up the mess the storm called “cancer” left in my life.  Thankfully, I meet with Dr. Paige on Tuesday.  I’m hopeful that we’ll be able to start my reconstruction process real soon.