Boobymoon

A few months ago Miguel got an offer to do a corporate gig in St. Kitts/Nevis and he said, “hell yes”. Then we realized I was going to need a mastectomy, and I said, “hell yes, I’m coming with you!” We are currently on - what I am referring to as - a “boobymoon”. Think honeymoon or babymoon, but instead of celebrating a marriage or a baby we are celebrating and honoring the end of my natural boobs.

To that end, I wrote this post before we left earlier this week and scheduled it to be posted so I wouldn’t have to worry about it while we were away. So, if there has been a major catastrophe that I am neglecting to mention and my words come across as tone deaf as a result, my apologies in advance.

Last week I had my regular appointment with my psychiatrist and when she asked me how I was doing, which is usually a loaded question, I was surprised to realize I was actually doing pretty well (all things considered) and that I was maybe even . . . happy? Is that possible? Can you be happy while staring down a major surgery like a mastectomy? And all while the news out of Washington keeps getting more and more extreme?

Maybe it’s the warmer weather, or the increased dose of my anti-depressant. Maybe it's that I’ve accepted these next breast cancer steps or that the surgery is scheduled so I can plan life around it now. Maybe it's because I’ve wrapped up one phase of a HUGE project and I cannot wait to share it with you next week.

Whatever the reason, I’m trying to lean into this joy. Because I know it won’t last – not in a *womp womp* way, but in a realistic ebbs and flows of life kind of way. It’s felt a little weird though, this burst of happiness, like I shouldn’t be happy because I have cancer. But why should I give cancer (or the current administration) that much control over my emotional well-being if I can help it?

The surgery will be here before I know it and along with it a longer than I would like recovery. There will be plenty of time to feel crappy then. But right now? While the sun is shining and I get to cheer on Jackson at his baseball games and run Anessa around to dance class and T-ball? I’m going to enjoy every minute of this now. If anything, the pending surgery makes it all even sweeter because I know I am going to miss a lot of their activities while I am recovering. Right now is when I need to enjoy it most. Because I can.

I guess the same should apply to current events as well. I can be proactive: sharing information, hosting fundraisers, making phone calls. I can be enraged by statements and decisions that are unethical and unconstitutional . . . and still allow myself to experience joy. In the same way that I grieve Adelaide while laughing about something silly Anessa said.

Now, hit me up next week when my period’s started, it's been raining for a few days, or I’m experiencing a vacation hangover and I can’t guarantee I’ll feel the same way. It’s also possible that I’m minimizing my diagnosis and surgery a bit. I am slowly coming to terms with the realization that this cancer experience is never going to be fully behind me.

What I neglected to mention in last week’s more light-hearted post is that when you choose breast reconstruction vs. going flat (which is a valid option that works for many people but is not what I’ve chosen), is that reconstruction is rarely a one and done surgery. I will have a minimum of two surgeries. The first is the mastectomy and placement of expanders to create the bubble where the implants will eventually go. I will visit my plastic surgeon’s office every couple of weeks to have the expanders filled over time. Then, at the end of the summer, the implants will be placed in a second surgery.

But wait! That’s not all. It is entirely possible that there can be rippling, or the implant doesn’t sit right, but I won’t know that for another few months and so may need to go back for more surgery to make adjustments. Not to mention undergoing MRI’s and eventual implant replacements as they have to be changed out every decade or so. This is all assuming that my body doesn’t reject the implants, or the expanders, or something gets infected, or, or, or.

There is no easy or perfect solution where breast cancer is concerned - no matter how much I try to rationalize my way through it. However, this week, while I’m sitting on the beach with a fruity cocktail in hand, life WILL BE easy and perfect, and I dare anyone to try and convince me otherwise. Actually, I don’t dare you, just give me these few days. Please and thank you.