Ta ta to the tatas
It is back-to-school time here on the East Coast. I know much of the rest of the country has been back for a few weeks already, but since moving East I’ve grown quite partial to the post-Labor Day return. August is still summer, and you will not convince me otherwise.
Even though *I* am not returning to school, there is still something about this time of year that feels more new year-ish than New Year’s. And this back-to-school season, I’m feeling it more than most: in just two months The Luckiest will be in your hands and next week I will undergo what I hope is my final breast reconstruction surgery. I am saying ta ta to my uncomfortable and temporary tatas (ie expanders) and hello to my more permanent ones (implants).
This surgery is supposed to be fairly simple, both in procedure and recovery. Though, since finding out I would need a mastectomy following the test results from my lumpectomy – I have a hard time believing any of this will be simple… or that it will ever be over. I am continuously reminding myself that I am currently cancer-free. This next surgery is for reconstructive purposes only and the chance of surprises is minimal.
For the most part, the cancer part of this journey is complete. I am now taking Tamoxifen, a hormone regulating pill that should help prevent the cancer from returning, and from here on will only meet with my oncologist and breast surgeon annually. No more mammograms or ultrasounds for me! Now my breast surgeon will feel me up manually to see if she identifies anything suspicious.
Though I know the worst is behind me, the emotions of it all linger. The uncertainty, lack of control, and exhaustion aren’t far enough in the past yet to gloss over. Even still, I find myself questioning why I haven’t been able to fully process it all and move on. I mean, I’m one of the lucky ones, right? Sure, I lost my breasts, but I didn’t need chemo or radiation, and the cancer was caught before it could spread. Once I recover from this next surgery my daily life will basically return to what it was prior to my diagnosis but with a perkier set of nipple-less boobs.
Isn’t all well that ends well?
But I am still processing this grief which includes the loss of body parts, the trust I had in my body, and the illusion of control – no matter how many times life shows me I have none – that I continue to believe I hold.
This recovery is just going to take time. Time to learn how to appreciate my body again and time for the emotional bruises to heal. They will heal though, or mostly anyway. And in the meantime, I will continue to grant myself grace. Just because it could have been worse, doesn’t mean that it hasn’t sucked. Both things can be true.
My January 2nd mammogram did not kick my 2025 off to a great start, though to be fair, a lot of people have had a crappy 2025. That said, I’m ready to start fresh, like my kids will next week with their shiny new backpacks and sharpened #2 pencils. It’s not that I feel like I have been given a second chance at life, because my life was never in danger. My cancer was always controllable and for that I’m grateful. It is more like I feel like someone has hit play on my ability to make plans again.
There is of course no guarantee that something else won’t come along to blow up my calendar – but a planner has gotta plan. The last few months of this year are jam packed with opportunity and I am SO ready to start overachieving again. Being busy and needed and appreciated is my happy place and I’m ready to line up at those double doors and settle back in.
ID: A picture of six year old, Anessa, taken from behind. She is wearing a red and green floral shirt and a silver puffy backpack with clouds and rainbows on it. The backdrop is artificial: graph paper with black, purple, and pink doodles.
