Most people know about the stages of grief: shock, denial, anger, bargaining, depression, testing and acceptance.
I'm not sure I have hit them all in the month of August as my world literally turned on it's head. I don't think I ever hit denial. I remember very clearly on August 8, laying there while they did the ultrasound on my breast, still trying to come down from the adrenaline of the car accident I had just been in and thinking to myself "there is no way this isn't cancer -- they wouldn't be doing all of this if it was nothing."
I'm not sure I ever hit bargaining or testing either. There was never a choice that this was the hand I was dealt and that, as usual, I was going to have to put on my big girl pants and fight yet again. There has never been an option in my life to not be a fighter.
As a child with an abusive stepfather and an emotional vacant and neglectful mother, fighting was just what I did. To be seen, noticed, cared for. As a teenager, I had to fight against the abuse and trauma I was dealing with. As an adult, I've had to come to grips with those traumas and the lingering mental health struggles that were born from it.
So this was no different. With a big sigh, I determined that I was going to fight. And keep fighting.
It was not difficult for me to decide to go straight to a DMX (double mastectomy) when I learned how huge that tumor was and knowing there was nothing there a year ago in the scans. I definitely hit shock and anger. There are times I'm so incredibly pissed that this has been my fate that I want to hit something or someone just to let those emotions out.
When I spoke to my surgeon Thursday afternoon regarding the results of the other biopsy I had done, I also opted right then to go flat. I will not be getting reconstruction. There is a concern that the cancer is inflammatory which means that it appears to be on the top of the skin. We were planning originally to do a skin sparing mastectomy so I could get reconstruction later (and just an FYI, don't ever, ever say to a breast cancer patient "well at least you'll be getting perky new boobs." Not only is it incredibly insensitive but what a woman has to go through to GET those new boobs is not a picnic and should not be taken lightly, ever). However, once I knew it could be in the skin too...nope. Flat it will be.
There was no denial, anger, bargaining, nothing. I just decided. I knew before I got off the phone with her I wasn't going to change my mind, but I did as she asked and I talked to my daughter, Emily (she had gone to the appointment with us on 8/22) and then I went home and talked to my husband. But I knew that nothing they would say would change my mind. This bitch has invaded my body and violated me. As a survivor of sexual abuse, I have a huge problem with that. So no. I will get it all gone and there will be nothing there. No stages of grief involved in that decision at all.
But today...sitting just 48 hours until my surgery, I think I'm firmly in acceptance. Partly because I still have sutures and my infected breast is swollen and uncomfortable. I cannot deny it will be somewhat of a relief in a lot of ways to just have it not be there and be a burden anymore.
I've never enjoyed being large chested. They are heavy and they make my back hurt. Plus...I feel violated and betrayed by them so nope, they can go.
My brother even helped me out by finding a local tattoo parlor that will do tattoos for mastectomies. I am obviously not doing that any time soon but maybe in the summer that will be something I do. It's something I can control and take back ownership of my body over.
Raye
If you’re reading this and want to support me on this journey, please consider donating or at least sharing the donation link. Thank you.
https://gofund.me/f0934c8a
Comments
Post a Comment