I have tried to be SO strong through out this whole process with my PBM (prophelatic bilateral mastectomy). After the initial shock that I have the BRCA 1 mutation and knowing what my options were. to choosing my coarse of action, I have been positive, upbeat, and motivated to get this done. Knowing that I have the genetic mutation was very emotional since I knew what my future held. I thought knowing if I was positive or negative would lead to a huge relief, even if I was positive, at least I knew! The positive result didn't come as a shock becasue I just felt that I had it. I have had enough obstacles and struggles in my life that the cancer gene would be one that is written in my life story.
Back to my decision. I knew that I had to have a mastectomy and a hysterectomy (ovary removal in a year or so) to really fight cancer before it started, though it wasn't quite sitting well with me and no research and googling would help. Once I had my breast MRI and what seemed like forever waiting for the results, I knew that I can't live my life waiting for test results until cancer showed its hideous head. After a series of conversations and soul searching I knew I needed to have surgery and I was finally ok with losing my breasts.
Pre-surgery there were a few moments of being emotional but it was short lived. I knew surgery made sense; not to everyone but to me... it just made perfect sense! Since my surgery my only emotional moments were from pain, I was sick of pain, I was sick of being useless, I needed hugs and human contact, I didn't want to be delicate that people were afraid to touch me. I was/AM a strong woman, physically strong! Even with the tears of pain, I still was strong with my decision and positive about my scars, my battle wounds. It is what it is .. I hate that saying, but it fits. I didn't feel self consious with my flat chest and my picc line hiding on my right arm, this is me, I am a fighter that threw the first punch! So what!
Until Friday ... that night hit my hard! I'm sure I previously mentioned that I play/ed softball twice a week, one night of which was with my husband ... Friday nights. I have gone the last 3 Fridays to watch my team and meet up with friends that I knew were playing on other fields. It is SO hard to watch my team no longer be mine, I was a spectator, in the stands, I wasn't part of this team any longer. So many times I thought I should just try to throw and hit to see what happens... will it really hurt? Will the pain worth it? I didn't, though. I was still trying to be me, sitting in the dugout, being silly with everyone .. my norm .. but then it came down to one of the guys giving me a hard time. We usually go back and forth, no hurt feelings; but mine were hurt. I was overreacting, maybe but I couldn't handle it. All of my joking around about myself and surgery (humor helped me through it) left me wide open. I wasn't prepared for someone else to prove to me that I couldn't play or mocking my openness about my PBM journey. (still overreacting, I'm sure) But it hit me. I'm not the same, I will never be the same again. I have chosen to cut my breasts off and left with scars across my chest. Breast cancer isn't a light subject but some people don't care like I do. They're not passionate about prevention, finding a cure, and understanding the emotional toll it takes on a women. My humor to help me deal with it was my armor against all of this emotion and it was torn down on Friday.
Do I regret my decision, no, and I would do it again if given a choice. I made the right decision, no doubt, but being proud and wanting to yell my decision and breast cancer awareness across the roof tops, I would change that. That would be my armor as this was a personal decision. I love blogging about this even if this is just for myself but those who read my blog or come across it share similar passions and I am helping someone with their fight as others have helped with mine. Right now I don't feel like things will be normal again, I feel that I will gain a new normal, I just haven't yet. My battle wounds will get prettier and I won't get so emotional but I will also stop going to Friday softball. Its hard, no doubt, but its not too hard to get through this. I am a strong women, emotionally strong too.
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