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    (Originally posted on Yahoo Voices, 2012)

    Musings of a One-Breasted Goddess

    I’ve been a uniboober for nearly five glorious post cancer years, and I know that I won’t change it. How can I know?

    I appreciate so much that if a woman wants reconstruction she can have it, and insurance will cover it. That was not always the case, and that’s just not kind. Every woman who loses a breast should be able to do what she needs to do to recover and feel whole.

    The reason that I will not reconstruct is that right now I am whole. I am missing one appendage. I have sensation and movement in my whole body, and my pectoralis muscle is intact. I don’t have any foreign objects in my body. That to me is whole.

    It doesn’t make sense to me to chop and numb other parts to give me back a breast, one that isn’t even like the one I have. My new breast would not have sensation, would not feel or look the same, would not respond to a lover’s touch. Would I ever be satisfied with this?

    Maybe if it could be a real breast, I would be satisfied to lose sensation in my belly, have my skin stretched, distort my pectoralis muscle so that it could not move freely, and to re-injure my entire left side and once again lose sensation to my elbow, across my back, into my neck, and across my chest. Maybe it would be worth three separate surgeries, sacrificing pieces of my beautiful, sensate muscles, the risk of infection, scarring that disfigures the new breast, tampering with the healthy breast, the risk of silicone leaking into my system, and the further trauma to my body that could leave me vulnerable a cancer recurrence.

    Since any new breast I would get would not be the real thing, why would I want one?

    I understand that it would be convenient to never have to search for my prosthesis if I misplace it. I would have cleavage, which I do miss a little. Perhaps I would feel less fearful of a lover being put off by the scar across my chest. Fortunately I understand that I am still a woman without cleavage, and my partner loves both sides of my chest.

    What doesn’t make sense to me is that my journey and recovery has been all about reclaiming the parts of me that were lost. If I want no part of my heart and spirit to be numb, if I want to feel everything, what sense does it make to cut off sensation and movement from large areas of my body? I want to feel it all, enjoy it all, be it all, body, mind and spirit.

    And, can a deeper healing come from acceptance?

    Maybe providing the new appendage makes it possible to not feel the pain. However, I believe that true healing means to feel the pain, let it go, and claim another part, the part that was numb or hurt, until I feel all of me. I grieve for my beautiful breast that nursed my babies, quickened at my lover’s touch, and is gone forever. I feel the ache, and I feel my chest, my belly, my heart. I move my body joyfully and with gratitude.

    I think every woman must do what feels right to her, and I believe that every woman should be encouraged to think it through. These days it is assumed that every woman who loses a breast will reconstruct. What isn’t discussed at length are the disadvantages and the risks. Nearly one third of all reconstruction surgeries will have some sort of complication, or less than ideal outcome.

    I miss low cut dresses, shelf bras, and sexy matching underwear, but not as much as I thought I would.



    I am going to see a surgeon tomorrow.

    No, no catastrophes, just some funny shooting sensations in my right breast, the one I have left. The one I chose to keep, a decision I have not regretted until now. Now I’m just wondering.

    I detest surgery, and I don’t want to wonder what could be hiding in my remaining breast, which is as dense as the other one was, the one that blossomed into a fiery inflamed breast in a matter of weeks. Did I make a mistake not having a double? I’ve been so glad these nearly four years that I still have one.

    Tomorrow I will discuss this with a surgeon, one I have never met. I had to switch insurance carriers after I went through treatment, because I lost my job. If it was my other surgeon, Dr. Metkus, I would not be afraid of the knife at all. I trust her. Tomorrow will tell if I trust the next one.

    I guess if I decide that more surgery is a good idea, I will make sure I feel good about the doc or I will seek until I find one I feel great about. Maybe the doc I see tomorrow will be able to reassure me that there are ways to make sure nothing takes me by surprise. That would be the best news!

    Or, maybe I will have another mastectomy, and emerge for the first time in my adult life not needing to wear a bra!

    Hey, there is a plus to just about everything if you look hard enough…

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