Finally Done

I believe that my reconstruction is finally done. Reconstruction of my breasts, that is. I probably have some work yet to do reconstructing a few other aspects of myself, like finding my pre-cancer jeans size, and building back up my arm strength. But the new knockers look pretty good, all in all. At least in clothes. I had a slight revision done last week, to lift one side and tidy up the scarline, and I think that once I get past this post-op period, I won't need a bra much of the time. They are perky!

So let's see. Since March 06 when I was diagnosed, there have been...six surgeries. Four were outpatient, but all involved general anesthesia, and at least a week on pain meds afterwards. I am done with that. Done! I had no idea that reconstruction would take this long or be this involved, and I know it isn't for everyone. I had a few little complications along the way, that dragged the process out. I have wondered a few times if I would have chosen this expander/implant process way back at the beginning if I knew it would take 18 months to get done.

I wrestled with myself a little bit over whether I was doing the right thing. I've never been really obsessed with my appearance. Not that into hair and makeup. I like new clothes and shoes, but have never been able to afford to indulge that often. I probably fall somewhere right around the middle in terms of whether I am a girly girl. (Question: Is it girly to let the hairstylist wax your eyebrows, because it hurt an awful lot today.....) Girly or not, though, I wasn't ready to say good-bye to my breasts, and spend my 40s and beyond without replacements. They are not the same, and while this is a little sad sometimes (bathing suit shopping this summer left me in tears), I must say that the old ones served me well, then turned on me, and it was time for them to go.

If cancer taught me anything, it was that you have to make your own peace with your decisions. No one can decide for you. And no one else's situation is just like yours, so what they, or their sister, or their Aunt Marge chose to do, is only marginally helpful, since they are not you, their diagnosis is not yours, and their peace rests somewhere or in something different than yours. This was a scary realization, at the time. I really wanted someone to tell me what to do. But from this vantage point, I feel sort of freed in the knowledge that my decisions were my own. I retained some measure of control, in that way. And there is not a lot of control in cancer. This we all have seen.

My mother (diagnosed eight months after me, totally different treatment and decisions) had her first mammogram this week, after her lumpectomy, chemo and radiation. The radiologist reading the film said, "Well, here is the film from last year, and here is todays....you can see it's a little smaller....) Mom had a good laugh with me about that. So....smaller breasts, perky breasts, whatever....we both made it through. That's enough for today. God is good.