I should have worked for a newspaper with headlines like that! I wonder if there is actually a job where you are paid just to come up with headlines…
Well! That’s my useless thought for the day!
So, back in September I had an appointment with the surgeon to discuss reconstruction. As far as I was concerned, it was a goer!
Yes my friends, I’d spent many an evening scrolling through various clothing websites, daydreaming (can you daydream in the evening...?) about some rather low cut dresses one might purchase if one had a fake pair of boobs! And not because one wishes to look like, well.. a bit of a tart, but simply because one has a tremendous pair of tits! And then there’s the prospect of lingerie... pretty bras without pockets for protheses!! (bit of alliteration there for you) ..... "Kid in a sweet shop" comes to mind…
Anyway, the appointment started off quite well as it goes; turns out my skin has survived radiotherapy well (externally anyway). The surgeon gave it a little pinch and seemed to approve. I’m a good candidate for reconstruction! All ok so far.
Of course, they can’t guarantee “success” though…
Now. I know this. Standard T&C, right? As with any op. No big deal. You pretty much sign your life away and promise that no one will have to pay any money if they accidentally break you, is basically it.
But let’s explore for a minute the idea that it is unsuccessful. How would it be unsuccessful exactly? I’ll tell you:
First of all, they might find that the skin doesn’t stretch enough (on the side of the radiation). Even though externally it all looks good, there’s no way of telling how well the skin will stretch until the expanders are in. Or, even if the skin does stretch, your body might ultimately reject the implants (presumably if there were ongoing problems with infections or draining etc..).
Ok, so let’s say the skin doesn’t stretch or you can’t have implants. Then what? Well, then they can look at taking skin and tissue from elsewhere.
Hmmm.. at this point not sounding great. Skin from your back usually and tissue from your tummy. Now, there’s not a lot of me to go around in the old skin and tissue department so not a preferred option.
“Ok”, I said, and here’s where I came up with the slogan “but if I don’t want to hack myself to bits to get a pair of tits”, then what? "Could I be flat again? As I am now?" The response:
“Well, there would be excess skin”. Not turning me on, doc… “but” (thank God) “we could do another operation to remove the baggy skin however it probably wouldn’t be the same as it is now”. Oh.
So potentially three operations resulting in messy scars. Not fantastic but I guess it’s a risk you take?
Well, yes, if you’re not bothered about the risk of blood cancer that is. Sorry, who-and-the-what now? Yes, I know!!!! (Monica for the Friends fans) Bleedin’ blood cancer! Apparently the government have told the hospital that they don’t yet have to tell people about this risk but the hospital are telling people about this risk.
It was at about this point that I promptly burst into tears. Why does it have to be such a difficult decision, fraught with risks?! No fair! (snorty emoji). You took my tits away; “simples!” as our meerkat friends would say. Now gimme some back without a side order of cancer. Pretty please?
That information was enough to tip my decision not to have a reconstruction. Certainly not for the foreseeable future anyway. The doctor said “you’re perhaps not ready to get back on that rollercoaster”. Damn right. The thought of all those operations and disruption to my life which I’m now able to enjoy.. a life without endless hospital appointments... Potentially I’d be signing up for a load of aggro, only to end up with still no tits, shit scars and worrying about cancer again. Nuh-uh.
I phoned Matt on the way home. Part of me was upset because.. sit tight feminists.. I felt like I’d let him down. I was looking forward to gifting him a couple of new playmates as a kind of "thanks for putting up with all this shit, you deserve some fun-bags" you know? Matt was really supportive of my decision of course, I just felt really bummed out.. (is the best way I can describe it and the words that came into my head at the time).
Over the next couple of days, I resorted to my old friend, the Google search engine, to do a bit of research on this blood cancer thing. The actual name is BIA-ALCL (Breast Implant Associated-Anaplastic Large Cell Lymphoma). From what I can gather, it’s very rare and seems only to occur where women have had textured implants. It is a cancer that develops in the lymphatic fluid, part of the immune system, which can travel in the body and form tumours. I gather it's very treatable if caught early, but still.. Now, at this point I want to say that it's best you do your own research and I really don't want to worry anyone who already has implants. The following website is helpful: plasticsurgery.org/alcl. I just felt it was important to share this information to give some background on my thoughts about reconstruction after breast cancer, as well as to raise awareness of BIA-ALCL.
I guess the fact that I have already had cancer, makes me feel like I could be unlucky enough to get it again, so, even though BIA-ALCL is rare, taking into consideration this and all the other potential complications, I’m definitely not up for re-con right now. I mean, never say never, but for now.. no.
I was a bit miserable for a few days after the appointment.. grieving the loss of the idea of boobs no doubt.. but I feel more positive now.
Genuinely, I have come to terms with not having boobs.. I don’t feel sadness when I look at myself in the mirror or when I’m taking a shower. Quite the opposite. I know it’s different for everyone, but I think a lot of women who have had mastectomy surgery would feel the same. Generally I’m just grateful to be here and to have the life I have.
I find I keep getting subtle reminders about how life could be so different. Little things trigger memories… we were watching Making a Murderer the other night (totally fascinating as well as incredibly sad and beyond shocking..) and in one scene they showed a test tube of blood. I won’t say any more in case it ruins it for anyone who hasn’t seen it, but basically it got me thinking “I wonder how much blood I’ve had taken out of me…” Then I started thinking about all the blood tests before chemo, the desperation to get good enough blood results to have the next round of drugs.. then my last chemo.
I think about chemo quite a lot (mostly at night if I'm struggling to sleep), especially my first appointment. And then there's other things like certain aches and pains remind me of how I felt when I was on those bloody Filgrastim injections. Makes me shudder sometimes.
I’ve said it before I’m sure, but I think it’s all part of the process of getting over the trauma associated with cancer treatment. Just processing everything that’s gone on…
And then there are those moments.. those precious moments with family and friends that remind me how fortunate I am. Christmas and New Year has been an emotional time I can tell you!
Anyway, I suppose I’d better finish this post now as I'm going off at a bit of a tangent and it’s turned into yet another essay (rolls eyes).
Until the next time… lots of love x
PS Do stay tuned for my next blog post where I shall mostly be talking about periods - woohoo!!!! And on that note, HAP-PEEE NEW YEEEAR!!!