It Took 8 Days

Every time my dressings were changed in the hospitals, every time my mom has helped my wash up or change I haven't looked.  You know, I like my breasts.  They were a good size, nice and perky, and they fed my son for a year.  Before all of this cancer crap I had said if I was ever diagnosed with breast cancer I would cut them off and be done with it.  I guess that's what I did.  But being a woman of child bearing years I yearned for the day I could have another baby and bring him to breast to feed him. 

I know, I know.  Everyone who saw me through the first 12 months of Camden's life will laugh at that last comment.  I hated pumping.  I would lug that stupid black tote bag (thanks Medela for being discreet) down the hall to pump.  It was torture.  I hated doing it.  I hated being run by the clock which were my breasts.  But at the end of the day it was a sense of relief accomplishment when I provided enough for Camden, plus a little more most days.  Breastfeeding is an amazing bonding experience with your child.  It was one of the hardest things I have ever done, but I wanted to prove not only to myself, but to our society that a working mom (and part time student at that) could breast feed successfully for 1 whole year. 

If it wasn't my life we were talking about I would have done anything to be able to breastfeed again.  But with a BRCA 2 + diagnoses my best chance at survival was a bilateral mastectomy.  I may have cried when I saw my breast pump in the closet.  Such a love/hate relationship with that thing. 

So 8 days post op.  I still hadn't looked at my new and improved, cancer free chest.  I don't know what I was expecting.  There is a small breast mound from the tissue expanders, but no nipples.  Those are milk ducts too and that is where my cancer was growing.  My cleavage is completely numb as is the skin on the top of my breasts and under my right arm pit where they took the nodes.  Sam hadn't looked either.  We made a pact that we would do it together. 

We finally got my second suit post mastectomy camisole.  So I needed to change and get into something clean.  Sam helped me and we vowed to look together. 

Hey, not bad.  They are tiny little teenage breasts with no nipples and giant incision covered in paper sutures.  I still miss my breasts.  I had a love/hate relationship with those too, but I will grow to appreciate my new breasts.  We still laugh together that Dr. K, the plastic surgeon, was sure to tell us my new nipples would not have sensation.  Hopefully I will get past this tissue expander phase by the end of the year.