Do The Right Thing (NOT a Spike Lee Joint)

I’m done. I’m done! Ok, I’m not completely done, but I’m pretty much done. Done-ish.

This week when I went back to the plastic surgeon for my routine “top up” of saline into my temporary implant (if you’ve never seen or experienced it, it’s a lot like going to the gas station and filling up the tank…only in this scenario, you’re the car) the good doctor announced: This is your last one! My poor little misshapen left breast is now a very large misshapen left breast. It’s so large now (I think he overshot – just like a man, why give her her normal breast back when it could be bigger!) that it’s actually a little in the way of my left arm. Like if I’m using my left arm – which I do pretty regularly, especially as a left-handed person – I’m now like “Excuse me, I’m trying to work here” as I shove my left breast over to the right and out of the way. On the upside, though, in a tank top, my left side looks very perky and round…just don’t look me straight on because now the right side looks so sad. I would say it’s down in the dumps, but it hasn’t reached the dump quite yet. It’s heading for my belt for sure, though.

The good doctor and I will meet again in a couple of weeks to make a surgical plan for the full reconstructive surgery, where I’m sure no matter what I say I’ll be exiting with a brand new Dolly-esque physique. Oh well. I imagine I’ll live with it. Most people work on their bikini bodies by dieting, trying to lose weight, flatten their tummy. But not me! Oh, no – I’ll just be lifting and enlarging the breasts and distracting everyone from the rest of my so-not-a-bikini-body.

In other news, the rest of my medical team kinda let me down. There was a test they were supposed to run on the tissue removed at my mastectomy to see if I should be planning on chemo treatment…and I never heard another word. Since I don’t really want chemo anyway (I mean, who does, right?!) I decided “no news is good news”. So I never followed up. For months now I’ve been telling myself not to poke the bear. Leave well enough alone, but this week, for some reason, I just couldn’t. I can’t get to the end of this tunnel and find out I have to go through another one. I didn’t want to later get a gut punch…so I asked. I shut my eyes, said a little prayer, and emailed my patient care navigator who got right back to me to let me know my insurance company had denied the test so they never ran it...and no one informed me. I couldn't decide how upset to be. Did I really want the test and take the chance that after all this I still have to go through chemo? If the test came back positive, how much benefit would I get from chemo? Would I agree or decide to turn it down anyway? During all of this internal twisting and questioning yesterday, she went to work on resolving the matter. By last night I received an email saying my Onco test score was so low they didn't consider me a good match for chemo and that all I need is to come in to get a prescription for a pill they prescribe to nearly all breast cancer patients that lowers the risk of it returning within the next 5-10 years. So, yay!

During these past five months I’ve been keenly aware of so many women experiencing, and sharing their stories, about breast cancer. And I realize, even though I went through a LOT and I’m not totally done, my journey/detour through breast cancer was so very minimal by comparison to the majority of what I’m hearing and seeing of other women. I feel so very fortunate. I don’t know why I got to be one of a few who sailed through it, who didn’t have to spend a year or more doing battle. I’ve had so many people tell me it’s my positive attitude, my sense of humor, the fact that I take really good care of myself. But I’m not sure. Yes, I think those things helped me get through this physically and emotionally…but they didn’t change my genetic makeup or affect any test results. I can’t explain how I’ve been this lucky. All I can do is feel grateful.

As I continue to be aware of other people (women and men, too) who are battling breast cancer I’ve been trying to remember things people said to me that actually made me feel better. Because, bless your hearts, I know you meant well! But when someone’s been told they have cancer, there’s really not much you can say that make a person feel better about it.

Unless you’re a very sweet, young security guard at the local hospital. That chick about made me cry with five little words. When I checked into the hospital on November 6th – or what will forever be known in my head as Mastectomy Day – she was the one at the desk, checking ID’s, providing security passes and directing people to the part of the hospital they needed to go. When she asked me why I was there that morning, I told her I was scheduled for a mastectomy. She looked up from her computer at me and said, “You’re doing the right thing.”

I was shocked. I really didn’t expect anything from her but a photo id sticker and directions to the surgical floor. In my pause, trying to take in what she said and come up with an appropriate response, she continued, “I wish my sister had been brave enough to do what you’re doing. She insisted on saving her breast and having only a lumpectomy and a year later it came back and took her life. Good luck. You’re doing the right thing!”

I think I said thank you. I’m not really sure. I felt badly for her, her sister, and her whole family. But at the same time I felt really good about what I was about to do. The journey from the car, through the parking lot up to the security desk felt like Dead Man Walking. I felt like I was going in whole and would be coming out “less than”. But with five words, that woman made me feel like a hero.

I will always remember her kindness, her story and those five words and when I see someone struggling or facing a challenge, I will pay it forward. Because, really, it’s all you can ask for in situations like a cancer diagnosis where you’re being pumped with information you can’t possibly fully grasp and being made to base vital decisions on that information – to know that you’re doing the right thing. You’re making the best possible decisions you can make for yourself. Will it all work out well? Who knows. But feeling like you’re doing a good job and making good decisions during your journey is priceless.