I am in a blissful lull of doctor’s appointments. When this whole ordeal began I was overwhelmed with the mere number of doctors I had to see. And the number of times I had to see them. It felt like I spent more time per week in waiting and examination rooms than I did sleeping.
But now? Now my breast cancer surgeon says she’s done with me for six more months. The oncologist has slunk quietly away now that we know I won’t be doing chemo. And the radiologist bounced a while ago, realizing I cut him loose with my decision to cut my left breast loose as well.
My medical team has dwindled down to one. Only my plastic surgeon is sticking with me these days. I go see him regularly for saline injections into my tissue expander. The first one was four weeks ago and the second one was scheduled for three weeks later. It feels like a really slow process; at this rate, I’ll be getting denture implants at the same time I get a real breast implant!
BUT. When I went in for the second round, he says to me, after injecting the saline into my temporary torture device, “Your skin is so relaxed.”
“Yes, of course,” I’m thinking, “it’s from all the wine I gave it last night!”
Out loud, though, I said, “I take it that’s a good thing??” (He doesn’t need to know how relaxed I was the night before. But I’m pretty sure if he did, he would agree that it worked and would write me an actual prescription for wine.)
Instead of a prescription, though, he gave me a double dose of saline. It’s really exciting – it’s almost like I have a breast again. I mean, it’s a little wonky, misshapen, and miscolored, but still – it’s double the size as when I walked in and that’s a win in my little A-cup world right now!
I do wonder how long it takes to get to D-cup size. When will I feel like my chest is even on both sides again? When will I stop agonizing in front of my closet, strategically trying to put together outfits that are either so bulky or so busy that you can’t notice the lack of feminine bulge on the left side of my chest? Am I allowed to go into each appointment and demand “Make mine a double!” just to speed this along?
I should not be complaining. At all. I’ve met so many women who, thanks to breast cancer, have been through hell – ARE going through hell. I am so lucky – truly. In the world of breast cancer, I won the lottery. When I show up to breast cancer support meetings I feel like someone held all the straws and I drew the only long one. It’s a little like survivor’s guilt, I’m sure. Sitting among women in wigs, women with scarves, women with radiation burns, women who have pain and suffering written all over their faces when they tell you their stories.
And all I can do is sit there and listen. I have no experience with what they went through. I can’t pretend to understand. Not that I want to suffer, mind you. But I wish every woman who was/is/will be diagnosed with breast cancer would get a long straw, too. There would be more moms raising their children. More women dancing at family weddings. More sisters comforting each other through the loss of husbands and replacement of hips - or is it the other way around?
I wish more women got to go straight from mastectomy surgery to the build-a-boob workshop like I did. Sadly, there are many women who spend way more time in battle than I’ve had to. It makes me sad. It makes me feel lucky and guilty all at the same time. The next time I get my hands on a bottle of wine, I will toast to the battles women have and will win and celebrate my poor breasts in the same fashion they celebrated at my last appointment and I’ll make mine a double!
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