My Thoughts from June

June 9

Recently I've had to stop and think about something I have always taken for granted. I've thought about what they mean to me, their importance and how hard it would be to say goodbye to the old girls. It’s been very insightful.

June 16

One thing about augmentation is that it could leave the breast and  nipple without sensation. This is a huge consideration for any woman who is contemplating such a procedure. Is she willing to give that up arbitrarily? I would not; unless, of course, I had to.

I can only imagine the Hobson’s choice a woman has to make when diagnosed with breast cancer. “Well, Mrs. So and So, just what level of disfigurement would you prefer?” There is the lumpectomy option which will leave you with a partial breast, scarred, sagging and fried with irradiation. Or there is the full on mastectomy, which you can have reconstructed, but will never look real, or like the other one, and, oh, by the way, will have no feeling. Or you can have a bi-lateral mastectomy, with reconstruction, which will look more symmetrical, and more aesthetically appealing, but then again have no feeling at all.

They treat the woman as if she is a lab rat. She is just walking set of breasts with carcinoma, a case number, as if she has no brain, no personality, feelings, opinion or emotions.

It is as if the attitude is that breasts are useless, obsolete appendages that serve no purpose other than to make your shirt stick out. Although curves are important, they mean much more to me than how they look, (although mine do look very good.)

My breasts are a huge part of my sexual gratification. Losing that sensation would be the equivalent of female genital mutilation; I would hate that. Aside from how they may look or appeal to some future, fictional man in my life, they are important to me. They are part of who I am.

I would hate to have to make that choice; losing my breast, or losing my life. Having my breast lopped off and a lifeless plastic bag of saline or silicone attached to my chest. It would feel dead. Is that any way to live? What is the point of living if the quality of one’s life is so compromised? I am not ready to give up my sexuality. I am just not ready for that yet. But if it is taken away from me then what kind of quality of life is that? What is the point of living? Why is it important to live, just for living’s sake?

I can only imagine what is must be like for a woman to have to contemplate that choice, especially a single, woman, with no partner to hold her at night. She may try to sleep, but is unable to because of the loud noise, as she listens to the blood pounding in her ears.

Ok, let’s talk frankly.

June 16, 2012

I need to enjoy my breasts while I can because I will never get to see them again. Let’s call this “Kiss the girls goodbye.”  I have to decide whether I will lose one of them, or both.

So much for screening mammograms, I wish I had never gone. I am not scared or angry. I am disappointed.  I would have preferred to be told that this was so advanced it was beyond all hope of treatment; it would have been much easier for me. If I thought this was going to kill me, it would be a relief. My future would be clear and no decisions would have to be made. It is much harder to decide how you want to live.

I understand it when someone says my breasts do not define me and that it is the total package that is attractive. I get that. But it is not about someone else, it is about me. I know it does not matter to a man whether a woman’s breasts are real, or not, or so I have been told. But it matters to the woman. If, at some point in the future, a man enjoys my breasts, it will be for his pleasure, not mine. To think that they are not important is absurd. They are part of who I am.

All decisions are on hold until I get to Florida, in two weeks. I cannot and will not do anything until then. I am under too much duress. Once I am settled I will assemble a team of medical professionals and come up with a game plan. How ironic, huh, after all this talk of breasts!?!

It seems so cold putting this in writing. This is my breasts farewell. It is the last time I will ever see my breasts. The girls will be gone forever. Kiss them goodbye.

June 17

Based on what I have read, my journey so far does not make me unique, far from it. Pretty standard stuff. Starts with a mammogram > magnifying mammogram > biopsy > appointment with 1^st surgeon > MRI > appointment with 2^nd surgeon. Then it progresses on to finding a team, including interviewing plastic surgeons > surgery > reconstruction.  I am a typical case, nothing more than a statistic really.

All of this is fairly mundane, routine stuff, in their world.

The thing that irritates me the most is the attitude that, “Oh, well, she is old, she doesn’t have sex any more anyway. So, what the hell. Why not whack it off? It doesn’t serve any function. She’ll never miss it.”

But that is where I am different, I am sexual. And I intend to remain sexual as long as I possibly can. That makes me special.

I understand what is meant by the total package, but breasts are a key ingredient of that package. What man is going to want a woman who is missing part of that package?

  

I seriously considered not telling anyone. I seriously did. But then I thought about the trust factor. The truth would come out eventually and then what would everyone think of me?

And now we move on…

June 23

As far as my medical situation goes, I intend to postpone any treatment until I have arrived and am settled in my new location. In fact, I am considering another option, the “do nothing” option. Someone once advised me to trust the system. No thank you, I do not want to be part of “the system”. I choose not to. It’s not that I consider green tea and herbs a cure, as my daughter feared. I am strong believer in traditional Western medicine, but I also have a healthy skepticism for it. I may decide to opt out. For now, I have adopted a wait and see position.  The trade offs are just too great.

As i have said before, I am not ready to give up my sexuality and that is exactly what is happening. First by eliminating the outward expression of female anatomy and then by introducing hormone blockers, any remaining vestiges of femininity are wiped away until you are no longer a woman. It is the end of womanhood. You become an “it.”

It is drastic and barbaric.