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Est 2012, when I had my first and only mammogram, and everything changed. Within one week I had a double mastectomy, within one month I lost my hair, within one year I lost all reproductive organs. I still post occasional mentally ill cancer dispatches, but I'm mostly on Tumblr to self-soothe with gifsets and song lyrics.

#breast cancer #chemo #reconstruction #cancer #surgery #aphasia #hair #radiation #aesthetic flat closure #depression #anxiety #mental health

I woke up in the middle of the night with an intense itchy discomfort in the place where my left tit once was. Something subdermal. Subterranean? Subconscious? It's still there, if I think about it. A tightness. At the skin, it's just red scarring, with a little bump. Old stitch material, forgotten? Making its way out of me?

I hate this.

#breast cancer #cancer #reconstruction #surgery #aesthetic flat closure

a sticky post: Going Flat

[Disclaimer: I completely and fully support every woman’s personal choice in this horrid affair of breast cancer. And I’m so happy that reconstruction is covered by insurance—it wasn’t always—so women can navigate the trauma of what transpires from this disease. My decision is off the beaten path, but I in no way am judging anyone on their decision to choose reconstructive surgery. You do you, and I’m doing me.]

yours truly at 21, exactly thirty years ago

This is an explanation of my thought process on why I’ve chosen to have an aesthetic flat closure because many of you have been miffed by this decision and have gently expressed that inquisitively and I see it paining some of you.

I have been a witness up close to mastectomy. My grandmother, mother, friends as well as acquaintances. In the back of my mind, there was already a trajectory set in motion. I wonder if this is the case for many women, even if subconsciously, because the 1-in-8 fear is real for all of us. And when you’ve dealt with a decade of call backs, aspirations, a lumpectomy and biopsies, such as I have, it’s played in your head. This isn’t something I came to a sudden decision on a few weeks ago. So yes, I knew what my possible future held. No tits.

Going Flat, here we go:

(oof, did you read the disclaimer?)

I have no desire to have something cold (yup) and synthetic in my body.

Most people don’t seem to know that all sensation is lost. Reconstruction is NOT a boob job. All nerves are cleaned out with the breast tissue. You are numb. No pleasure from groping, no nipple stimulation. My chest wall will be numb as well.

For me personally this means I’d be just taking my partners’ enjoyment into consideration as a plaything, not that I don’t care about their pleasure. But all the trouble and possible complications would not be for my benefit and I’m left with the 24/7 of it. That’s a major ordeal to endure for just someone else’s occasional gratification. I’m afraid it would echo my sorrow in a negative way. And I don’t have pressure from my husband. In fact he did not weigh in at all—“your body, your decision.” Our relationship is solid and I don’t have any insecurities about my worth as a wife and his lover being in jeopardy by not having fake boobs or him considering me less of a woman. Are we both sad about this? Absolutely devastated. We are both in mourning and trying to navigate a shit ton of grief.

Bonuses:

My recovery will be cut by more than half.

One surgery and done.

There is a reduction in the risk of numerous complications. With reconstruction some women are faced with losing a nipple (or two) and must return for more surgery due to lack of blood flow and death of the tissue, just to name one (yes, I know some).

I won’t face recalls or expiration of implants.

I NEVER have to get a mammogram again. After my markers were placed for surgery I received my last mammogram and my entire team waited outside my dressing room at the breast center to give me hugs goodbye after. Some of these women I’ve known on my boob adventures for years.

This thing is happening to me. And soon enough I’ll be able to live it as something that happened to me, past tense. Having numb cold weight on my chest isn’t going to change that fact. This is a traumatic ordeal. And I’m facing it as bravely as I can. Not feeling pressure to literally fill this void has been empowering for me to not get tangled up in some kind of hysterical vanity or attempt to cover up what’s really happening. As my best friend has told me as this has played out, “that’s metal.” I want to figure out how to cope with this crisis head on and boldly.

Has this been an easy choice? No. I have been visited at four am (my now regular unsolicited hour of bereavement), woken by hot tears while wanting to throw up. I don’t want to do this at all. And the reality that will greet me in a few days is one I can only imagine that will be shocking and indescribably jarring.

But I’m not alone in making this raw choice. More and more women are making the aesthetic flat closure decision. And they are aligning and educating others. Also, fighting a system that up until a few years ago required a psych evaluation to proceed. One very prominent woman is Tig Nataro. Tig documented her breast cancer publicly days after her diagnosis on stage all the way to removing her shirt during her 2015 HBO stand up on the other side of it. I had a jolt when I recalled this and find it comforting to have the camaraderie. I’ve been lucky enough to meet others who have chosen flat since my diagnosis. Some of my friends who had reconstruction have confided in me that if they had to do it again they’d chose flat. A few therapists and practitioners have told me they regularly meet women who regret their reconstruction, but none who are disappointed by their decision to go flat.

So yes, I’ve sat on my bed weeping deeply wondering what to do with some sweet darted sundresses that I’ve sported for years and my gorgeous formal dresses, including my beautiful red wedding dress, that will no longer fit me. Anyone want some expensive bras?

My beauties have served me well. I nursed my kids for a total of eight years of my life. They’ve given me pleasure and been fun sharing with my lovers. Made outfits sexy. But circumstance has me saying “ta ta, tatas” (required eye roll here, we gotta laugh or I’ll completely fall apart). I need to let go. And remember even though I have autonomy in this decision not to do silicone, it’s cancer that ultimately took them away, not me.