The Power of Cleavage

I wonder how many women have debated *not* going through with breast reconstruction after scheduling the thing.  How many women are torn over this decision?  I know there are women - many women - who choose no reconstruction, but my interpretation is that they were NOT torn; that they knew they didn't want a reconstruction at some point *before* scheduling it.  But I don't know that, for sure, I haven't looked.  Maybe I should.

(Some time later...)

So, I did.  I read for about an hour or so.  First thing I learned; it's called "going flat" when you don't reconstruct.  Another thing; most women who "go flat" are doing so after a full-on, double mastectomy.  The few single (one-sided) mastectomies I found that didn't opt for reconstruction, most wear prostheses: rather heavy gel fake breasts.  Some don't, but most are saying no to reconstruction because they are scared of more surgeries, their health won't allow it, or they worry about the complicated, long process that is reconstruction.  And the process is lengthy.  First, there is a major surgery (if you are going expanders and not trans-flap, which I am) during which we will augment the left and place a spacer under the right.  The spacer gets inflated every week for 6 weeks or so.  Once the reconstruction side is the "right size," you wait 3 months - THEN you get the mastectomy side rebuilt.  Then there comes the "do I want a nipple constructed"-type decisions, along with a myriad of other, relatively minor procedures to tweak and perfect.  All in all, at least in the path I've chosen, you are looking at a year to a year and a half of surgeries and recoveries; most small with a couple of bigger ones thrown in for good measure.

Oh yeah, and implants aren't permanent.  They have to be replaced, eventually, for almost everyone.  The "average lifespan" of implants - 10-15 years.

Do I want more breast surgery at 60?

Do I want more surgery now?

These are the times that try a woman's soul, lemme tell ya.

I could be all ragey and say things like, "breasts aren't beauty" and "women shouldn't be defined by their bodies" and "this is all trivial when compared to cancer and chemo" and...  blah, blah, blah and not get the reconstruction.

But the truth is, I've always wanted a breast augmentation.  For as long as I can remember, I've never particularly liked my chest.  And now that I'm one week and two days away from the first "perk" of breast cancer (I can't count how many times I've heard some variation of "well, at least you are getting something out of this), there's this nervous nelly inside of me saying the same thing over and over and over again...  "there's no turning back...  there's no turning back...  there's no turning back..."

And some of the scenery I expect on the next leg of this journey?

A year of procedures - and, most likely, noticeable discomfort.
The myriad of potential complications.
The celebratory well-wishes of friends and family.

There is more I could list, but there are two pieces that threaten to pick up my phone and cancel the surgery.

1.  I am *so tired.*  I am SO TIRED that sometimes, I just don't want to do *anything.*  I don't want to get up, I don't want to eat, I don't want to watch tv, I don't want to read.  "Doing" something always involves a decision.  I'm tired of making decisions.  The way I feel right now, I don't want to decide anything ever again.  And this surgery is a big decision.

And 2.  There are many people that don't care that I have only one breast and they have supported me and walked with me and loved me through this whole process.  When chemo ended, though, there was something of a perception that the journey was over with my last infusion, but it wasn't.  It isn't.  I felt almost...  guilty when explaining to people that I wasn't done, that the road I am on doesn't have an end in sight.  That's really hard for people to hear, though, and even harder to explain - over and over and over again.  Sometimes, though, easier is all you can really do.  I just started agreeing how great it was that I was through with the hard part.

But lying is only easier in the moment.  I don't like lying, and I don't do it very well.  Lying leaves little stains on your soul; it punches you in the gut every time you do it.  It makes me want to cry.  Lying is only easier in the moment.

And I don't want to lie about more than I already do.  I wonder how many people will want to celebrate my new boobs with me when that's the last thing I want to do, because again, it will look like I'm "through the hard part."

Maybe I'm scared it'll be "over" for everyone but me.  Maybe I'm scared there is no such thing as recovery and moving through this.  Maybe I'm scared that I'm going to be scared for the rest of my life and have to hid it behind a smile and a lie.

Maybe I would give anything to have my chest back like it was: saggy, stretch-marked from years of nursing, and a bit too small...

...if it meant never having breast cancer.

Maybe there is nothing that can make me feel "better" about all of this.

When all of this is said and done, maybe I'm scared that everyone's perception of "over" will simply leave me sitting alone in the fear that "over" doesn't exist.

I've always said that "afraid" doesn't apply to me.  Nervous?  Yes, but afraid?  Not me.  I can't say that anymore.  I have now been afraid for 278 days.  278 long, nauseating, exhausting days.  Reconstruction will make me look whole again, and yet, I'm afraid "whole" might no longer be in my vocabulary.  I am afraid the cancer will come back.  I am afraid that no matter how healed I look, I will never feel well again.  None of this makes me feel healed and well and "whole."

Maybe it's as simple as wanting to look as broken and scarred on the outside as I feel on the inside.  Looking at all of the ink on my body, it's easy to see that I wear my pain "on my sleeve" for everyone to see.  Why should this be any different?