People stare at me wherever I go. It’s been like that since chemo started, in May, 2020. I was swollen – fushed - pale – green - gray… I cut my hair off – losing it in mangy patches – lost it. I had both of my breasts removed with no reconstruction. My hair is super short still. No boobs. People have been staring at me for almost a year. Wondering what is wrong with me. Wondering what I am. Calling me a man, almost every week.
It was jarring at first. Now, I am getting used to it. I’m pretty sure people will be staring at me for the rest of my life, and probably calling me sir, too. Which, let me say, irks me to no end. I am finally starting to correct them – and if I’m feeling really horsey, I nicely tell them I have breast cancer. That makes them crawl into a hole.
I am very much a woman, and very proud of it. I chose not to have reconstruction. It was a personal choice. I’m not here to tell you what to do – each person has that choice to make. I just pray you never have to make it.
Reconstruction would have meant more surgery for me, a delay in crucial treatment, and some things attached to my body that weren’t mine. And, who could argue with not having to wear a bra for like, forever. I was going to use prosthetics. You know who for? Not me. Everyone else. I guess for those people who stare at me. To make them more comfortable with my existence. So they can comfortably file me into a zone they are familiar with. Well, you know what folks? I’m fighting for my life here. Busting my tail, actually. They call it “going flat.” Several women make that choice. But, you actually have to tell the doctors. Reconstruction is a given. Most doctors assume you want breasts, fake or not. I watched a video, the other day, in which the woman chose to go flat. She gets called a man at least once a month. Has even been yelled at on the street. She said, breasts don’t make someone a woman. I wholeheartedly agree.
My treatments are still ongoing. I’ve had some minor setbacks. I started having trouble breathing in February. Of course, my first thought is, my cancer has spread. That microscopic junk in my chest and armpit has moved to my lungs. I did what any rational human would do – deny it. Because, we all know, if we don’t speak it, it isn’t so… Until finally, I was with my doctor and told her. She told me we could do a chest x-ray, so we did. It showed pneumonia or radiation changes. I have been on major antibiotics and steroids that make me feel like a raging, flushed, body-builder who has no need for sleep. But, I think it’s starting to improve.
It’s weird to say “I think” about how I’m feeling. The thing is, I’ve been in an ongoing state of feeling pretty crappy for almost a year now. I’m kind of used to it. The first chemo was actually pretty short. I could count it off. It was easy to do – 1 down, 5 to go. I counted each and every one. They were three weeks apart. I felt pretty bad for two weeks, but by the third week I was starting to be able to move and shake a bit better. I had surgery a few weeks after my last chemo. Then I started radiation and another type of chemo. It’s not as violent as the first, but it goes on seemingly forever. It makes me hurt, especially from my hips down. It makes my bones brittle. My mouth really dry. It wears me out and wears me down. And, it’s so ongoing that I don’t even count it. My mom told me 14. I have no idea which one I’m on. I just know it goes until July. I’m focused on July.
I haven’t sweated since I got diagnosed with cancer. Since I have been on so many meds. Every time I think it’s about to happen, I have prickles all over my body. Yep, now I’m a tweaker… I think I need to go sit in a sauna until all this crap is out of me. But, I’m still having to take more.
I never want anyone to think I’m actually angry about my cancer. It’s become just part of me. Granted, it’s a part I would like to go on and go away, but it’s here anyway. I can’t deny it. I can’t get mad at it. I have to live with this guest. Perhaps for the rest of my life. The only thing I can do is live each and every day to its fullest. I’ve looked at this spring in such a new way. This has been the most beautiful spring I’ve ever seen.
I’m trying to make sure I do everything I can to make my moments really count. I can’t do too much – money seems to be required of so many activities, and so is breath… But, what I can do is rich with goodness. I find something wonderful each and every day. God has truly been so very good to me. I am so incredibly thankful.
I will do anything they want me to do. I am reading a book about a lady that survived Auschwitz. She stopped saying “What now?” and started saying “What’s next?” What a great mantra. I hope I get to live without cancer again one day.
Until then, “What’s next?”
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