Two years ago, I took the first major step in ridding my body of cancer. I had my double mastectomy and some lymph nodes removed. At that point, I was more afraid of surgery than anything else and the surgery was the only thing I could focus on. Just a little reminder that a double mastectomy with reconstruction is nothing at all like a “boob job.” We have them to save our lives and not for fun. As pleased as I am with the end result of reconstruction, they look nothing like normal ones. A little misshapen, one of mine is still blue (I guess I’m part Smurf), ripples where there shouldn’t be and two mounds of smiling gel are my parting gifts from surgery. I’m good with that as long as I remain disease free but please, don’t liken it to augmentation.
Initially, I thought I’d have the double mastectomy with immediate reconstruction but it didn’t work that way. I woke from surgery concave, hollowed out if you will. Expanders were placed above the muscle and saline went in every few weeks til they were the desired size. I got to live with those for 8 months. I had to wait til chemotherapy was over and my counts rebounded before even considering an exchange surgery.
Upon diagnosis, I knew the location, type and subtypes but, naively thought I’d just have surgery and then the targeted therapy. Turns out, it was more complicated. I wound up with 20 weeks of chemotherapy and a year of targeted therapy due to the subtype. In order to do everything that I could to rid myself of HER2+ cancer, I had to give up a lot of my life. It wasn’t easy but it was doable and despite the aches and pains, definitely worth it.
Finishing chemotherapy was a great feeling. I was thrilled to have come out of it relatively ok and never missed a chemo session due to low counts nor had doses reduced. I still had almost a full year to go of targeted therapies that came with their own little list of side effects. Finishing Herceptin and Perjeta infusions this year and then having my port removed was overwhelming, both good and bad. I was thrilled to not get poked anymore and looked forward to my hair growing back and for the side effects to slowly diminish. I was happy to have my Wednesdays back. However, once I was done, skipping off into the sunset in a field of flowers was definitely not reality.
We get released for a few months at a time til we have to go back and get our counts checked and physically examined. We get physical freedom but not released from the fears and stress. We are not done. With treatment, I always felt secure. Without it and the comforts of the cancer center, sometimes I feel lost in a world that doesn’t understand me. Just because treatment is done does not automatically mean I am fine. I got sent back into the world of muggles in the midst of a pandemic, making life exceptionally messed up.
The war against my cancer is over but the battle to regain my life goes on and it is a lonely one, especially with this current pandemic. Grow up, wear the mask and just deal with the social distancing, ask us chemo folks how we have done it. Hearing “you should just move on, don’t dwell, aren’t you grateful, so on and so forth is cruel slap in the face. Unless you have been in my shoes, with my treatments and fears, don’t. Please. Once treatment is over, we can’t just pick up where we left off before we were diagnosed. Life is more complex and scary now. It took me a while to realize that the uncaring attitude and attemps to minimize and dismiss my experience is not my issue, it is theirs. My survival means more to me than it does to others, as it should be. I go at my own pace and celebrate my milestones because it’s my way of telling cancer to kiss my ass, I am still here and will be for as long as I can. Celebrating my milestones is a reminder to myself that I am strong, brave and very much alive. No one can make any guarantees, especially with cancer. Breast cancer is an ugly monster that eats us from the inside, gobbling up parts of our souls and letting us know it’s lurking and watching. I would give anything to poke its eyes out and send it plummeting to its grave. Breast cancer is abusive. I strive to keep myself healthy and know the odds are in my favor of remaining disease free but I am already acquainted with this giant monster. I respect it but am equally afraid of it paying a visit again.
Each passing milestone date gets me closer to the five-year mark, but, I don’t know when that count officially started. I don’t think I care either. I’ve regressed a bit with my shoulder issues and mobility but am working on building that back up. I’m still running, in the swampy humidity of Florida (which is actually making my skin freaking phenomenal!) and I know I should start utilizing weights as well. I will. I know I can bounce back with a whole lot of determination, which is something I certainly don't lack!
For now, I will tell y’all that the hardest part of cancer and treatment is when it is all done. I think that is when we are the most vulnerable. Be kind to survivors. We don’t ask that you understand us, just celebrate the fact we are here, sharing our stories and spreading hope.