You'll Never Be The Same

You’ll never be the same.  Not physically.   When cancer hits and the treatments begin you are forever changed.   It’s something no one thinks about but I wish they did.  I’d been more prepared.

With my breast cancer I had a lump.  Physically at that time the lump was the only change with my body.  But then came the mastectomy.  I was a bit nervous.  I’ve never been a vain person and losing my breasts didn’t hit me as hard in some ways but in others it did.  However, I liked my breasts to be honest.  I was never one to push them up.  Rather I strapped them in; inside my turtlenecks.  But I still was happy with my breasts.  I think I cried once over the idea of losing them forever.  The day of the mastectomy I was emotionally okay.  Or think I was as far as I remember.  I was comfortable all day.  Enjoying seeing my friends and family.

The only time I became frightened was right before I was put to sleep.  I was shaking at that point because for the first time of the day I was alone.  Alone in a scary room.  I remember lying there talking with my anesthesiologist.  He spoke a little to me and was quite comforting.  My nurse kept walking around the bed doing things nurses do.  Then I hear another anesthesiologist ask my anesthesiologist what kind of surgery I was having.  He said bilateral mastectomy.  The other said “Poor thing. She is so young”.  I wanted to scream, I hear you all talking about me!  The nurse patted me on the shoulder and said “they are just trying to figure out where to put your IV dear.  It cannot be in your arm so they may put it in your leg or foot or neck.”  I panicked.  I said in a loud rush to the nurse “I had a bad experience with a IV in a neck……my momma died, at one point before she died they had done that to her and punctured her lung.  I have bad memories!!!!!”

The nurse at that point was trying to get me a “I don’t care shot”.  She understood my fright from the trauma of losing my momma and the association with the neck IV.  The anesthesiologist came over again and was looking at my neck telling me he was going to put my IV there.  I said in a rush again “You don’t understand!….I had a bad experience with a IV in a neck……my momma died, at one point before she died they had done that to her and punctured her lung!”  The nurse is now frantically trying to give me my shot.  The anesthesiologist tells me “I’m good, I’m good, no worries, in and out, won’t feel a thing”.  Then he flung my bed up so that my head was lower than my feet.  He fiddled with one side of my neck and said that side wouldn’t work- he said “you’ll just look like a vampire bit you there tomorrow, no worries.” Then he started on my neck on the left side for a moment—just felt like he was feeling around on it.  Then he says “See, I told you I’m good.  In and out.  It’s done.”  I didn’t feel a thing…..then the “I don’t care shot” went in.

When I woke up my breast were gone.  One of the most defining parts of a woman’s body, I lost.  Still I didn’t grieve that much.  I had bandages that covered a flat chest so there was really nothing to see or worry about.   I remember Chris saying after everyone left the hospital that night “you are sooo flat”.  It was kinda a freaky thing.  I had a bladder problem that night that was quite traumatic or I would have sailed right through having a mastectomy. 

The next week to the surgeon Chris and I went for the removal of the drain tubes and bandages.  I remember laying on the table and Chris was sitting in the corner.  The doctor cut the bandages away.  As Chris watched the bandages fall aside he said, “Are you not going to look down?”, as I hadn’t done so yet as the doctor cut away.  The doctor said “She probably doesn’t want to.”  All I wanted to do was look into Chris’s eyes.  I did.  And what I saw there….. What I saw there made me know that everything was going to be just fine.

No one warns you about the first time you are standing up and look down at your new body after a mastectomy.  It’s quite traumatic. Your body is so out of proportion!!  I said, “I never knew my belly was that large!”  Nor does anyone warn you of the trauma of the first shower.  The first shower where you wash your chest, a chest that is now flat.

My plans from the beginning was no re-construction.  No, nada, none.  I didn’t want it.  I went through six rounds of chemo, 33 radiation treatments and 12 Herceptins.  All the while never planning reconstruction.  Chris didn’t care.  He really didn’t want me to either.  He was tired of seeing me hurt.

Then summer came when all treatments were done and hair was coming back.  The last thing that defined me as a breast cancer survivor was not having breasts.  And you would be surprised how many people notice!  Throughout my treatments I’d put on my scarf over my bald head and Chris would take me on the town for movies and dinners.  It was hard to have everyone checking out the scarf at first, and then of course their eyes would fall down.  To see what kind of cancer I had.  “Did she have breast cancer?” They would wonder. I tried to go out as much as I felt like it.  Yes, I was self conscious.  But I went. I didn’t want to look back in a few years about this time in my life and felt I hadn’t LIVED! 

With my hair growing back and the right clothes in winter no one knew anything about my cancer.  In fact I received tons of compliments on my hair cut.  To which I would reply, “thank you”.

Then summer hit.  Let me just say, there are no clothes for adult women who are without breasts.  My mother in law wanted me to get “falsies” since day one.  A false bra.  There would be no way I’d wear that.  That is just not me.  I wouldn’t even wear a wig.  There was no way I’d get up every morning and put on a prosthetic.   I hate wearing make up, I hated wearing a wig, I hate shopping….I’m not wearing a prosthetic. 

But shopping this past spring changed me.  Clothes are cute these days.  But are either scoop neck, V neck, tank tops, halter top…. And I was 20 pounds heavier from the type of chemo and steroids I had taken.   There was nothing I could wear.  And forget wearing a bathing suit.  Course I was told I could get a prosthetic bathing suit.  But hey, with my luck I’d be swimming and one would float away!

So I decided to go for reconstruction.  My biggest question was what kind and when.  With my job the only time that would work was August.  And since it took 4 months to get an OR that worked perfectly.  Planned in April so August it would be.  And a TRAM Flap procedure it would be.   A very invasive type of reconstruction but when all goes well it’s the best.  On the front end lots of pain.  But great results later.

The reason for the TRAM Flap:  I couldn’t stand the thought of implant reconstruction. Six to eight hour surgery to get my expanders in.  Right back muscle would have to be taken and used to re-enforce my new right breast because of radiation damage to my skin.  Then four months of expanders—going each week to have a small amount of fluid inserted until I reached a suitable size—ouch.   Then surgery to get the final implant.  Then those implants might have to be replaced in 15 years or so?  Implants don’t last forever.  And I really didn’t like the thought of something foreign in my body.  I came to the conclusion a long time ago that my body hates me.  I’m sure it would reject implants.   I decided the TRAM Flap was the surgery for me.  Maybe.  I was pretty scared.  I wasn’t sure. 

Chris was.  He said the surgery was elective.  I didn’t need it, it wasn't a necessary surgery.   It was 12-16 hours long.  Very invasive with potential of lots of blood loss.  Risk of blood clots. Dangerous.  ICU for two days.  Hospital for 7 days.  Maybe back to old self in three months.  I could die was his thinking.  He didn’t want me in anymore pain.

My last fear?  The thing that almost put me back to the decision of not having surgery?  What if I ended up worse a monster after this surgery than I am now?  I got used to my body without breasts.  As used to it as one could.  I was comfortable with it—however I never looked at it that much.  What if I have this  surgery and look worse????  That was the most scary part.  I look bad enough.  I didn’t want to look even worse.

I told Dr. Herbig I knew I would never be perfect again.  It’s just a fact.  My body has not been the same as since the mastectomy and never will be.  I have scars.  Large scars.  My breasts will never be ideal.  My belly button that I loved would be gone with a new one made. I told Dr. Herbig to just do the best she could.  I trust you I said.  Trust you to get me as close to normal as could be.

The day before the surgery I went to Dr. Herbig to be “marked” up for the incisions.  I looked like a side of slaughtered beef.  I took a list of questions and comments with me.  Which is pretty unusual for me but this was a big deal surgery.  Question 1—how much would I see her, my doctor, during my hospital stay?  Sometimes you never see you doctor.  Question 2—pain management—I knew this was going to be awful.  Question 3—when can I be up and around again????  Comment to her #1—If one breast died in the first two days I wanted both cut off to start over next year.  I did not want to have one breast after this ordeal.  She said would probably be impossible to fulfill that request.  Comment #2—I’m modest.  My biggest fear (and I know this is of utmost stupidity) is being laid out on a surgery table completely uncovered.  I see the hospital TV shows and it seems most of the bodies are covered for most of the surgeries.  I told Dr. Herbig I just wanted her to know who I was and about my modesty.  Comment #3—My momma died at UT 20 years ago.  I know the hospital saves a lot of people.  They performed a miracle on Duncan.  But momma died there.  I told Dr. Herbig I never, never, ever, ever wanted to have not one procedure done at UT.  But I had heard such good things about her that I decided to over come that fear.  Comment #4—I know I won’t be perfect, just do your best, I don’t expect a lot, I don’t expect perfection.  Comment #5—I have bladder problems and to leave my catheter in as long as possible and if I say I need it, I need it.

The surgery went well.  I was a little scared of course.  Luckily at UT Lynette and Chris and Leslie were with me right up to the very minute I went in the OR.  What a huge difference in my stress level than at Ft Sanders during my mastectomy where I was alone for 20 minutes or so right before.  The surgery was 13 hours.  Great I thought!  Better than 16.  I think I did well considering my belly was cut off and made into my breasts. 

I had one complication when I went from ICU into a regular room.  My bladder froze.  I told them it would before I had surgery and I told them what would need to be done to fix the situation.  I was not listened to.  I was in a room straining my guts out for an hour trying to urinate while begging for a catheter.  All the straining hurt my new belly button.  It almost died.  I also damaged my incision in my belly as well.  This was a bad, bad, painful experience in which my friend Kelley and Bridget witnessed.  I wish they had not seen it.  I know it was traumatic for them.  I told them I was sorry. The damage set back my healing for a few days, maybe a week.  Dr. Herbig says things all will work out.  But my new belly button is no where near as pretty as it was the first time I saw it and my belly is crooked.  But both are alive except for a small portion of tissue around the belly incisions.  My breasts are healing fine and are amazing in how real they look and feel.

So now I am home.  I’m not sure what my new body will look like six months from now.  I’m very afraid I will look worse than before surgery.  But perhaps it’s only because I’m not used to the new look.  And it won’t really matter anyway.  I’m the only one who sees me.   

I’ll never be the same.  Not physically.   When cancer hits and the treatments begin you are forever changed.  The body in the mirror I see is not one I recognize.  At times it’s repulsive.

Not only does cancer make you start wondering about meeting your maker, and questioning if I will hear the words I’ve desired to hear my whole life: “Well done my good and faithful servant”, but it makes you re-exam the important things in life. 

The vanity I have developed is my most hated part of this process.  I’m hoping that when this journey is over that will be over as well.  I almost feel guilty at times for having breast reconstruction.  The process makes me feel vain and wonder if people think vanity is the driving force behind reconstruction.  I know it another silly notion of mine.  But breast cancer and all the things that go with the disease can make you question lots of things in your life.

In reality when I look back over the past year and half I realize that this has been a very hard year physically and emotionally.  However, I can honestly say that it’s also been perhaps the best year and half of my life.  The love that I’ve experienced from family and friends has been unbelievable.  The love has been overwhelming, not the cancer.

I'll never be the same physically.  BUT, I hope that I'm a better person from the experience of living through breast cancer.  I hope it makes me a better friend when those I love hit hard times.

You’ll never be the same……but, if you want and choose it, you can be even better than ever before.