~ Courage is being scared to death... and saddling up anyway ~
-John Wayne-
The moment that I cut and pasted the link for my first chapter of this adventure into Facebook, I gave myself an anxiety attack. Fear is like that I suppose.. or maybe its that I am experimenting with vulnerability for the first time in my life. Or maybe it was the worry that my words wouldn't be taken the way I intend. That instead of seeing this public sharing of my story for what it is; a way to share this story, in whole and in complete honesty, with the hopes that someone else going through a similar experience can know more about what they can expect, but also to know that they are not alone. I also wanted a way to share what I am going through with my friends and family without having to repeat myself in a thousand single conversations. I was afraid, almost paralyzed, that it would instead be seen as some sort of attention seeking act.
Fear like this is nothing I am a stranger to. In fact, fear is very much a part of my life. I am kind of a chicken shit when it comes to a lot of things (the dark, heights, tight spaces, flying etc). It is almost a game to see how well I can push through the fears, mostly because my main fear, fear of missing out on things, usually overrules whatever other fear is coming up in that moment. That is exactly the reality I am living in this present moment, right now, 12 hours from surgery. No matter how deep the fear, if I am not proactive now, I will miss out in the future. So just like the fear I had standing on the rim of the Grand Canyon, almost exactly a year ago, I will move through this all one step at a time.
In the days since posting my first chapter I have gone through an intense rollercoaster of emotions. Forcing myself to really go beyond my comfort zone to let people in. And maybe more importantly, going beyond my comfort zone to reach out for help. I was very lucky to have a student/friend that has gone through an elective hysterectomy and bilateral mastectomy after testing positive for all the BRCA mutations. It was in a moment of complete and total overwhelm that I reached out and asked her to lunch. Leading up to this lunch (confession) I have torturing myself by reading countless threads in support chat rooms for women going through this procedure as a result of cancer, or BRCA. Every night for days, when everyone in the house was asleep, under the cover of darkness, I would read all these women's stories. Story after story of how incredibly horrible the pain of the surgery is, how crippling the expanders are, the body identity issues, problems with surgery and on and on. Effectively making me neurotic and riddled with anxiety.
The day that we met for lunch was a beautiful fall afternoon in Boulder and my friends sunny perspective and support matched the backdrop. During our two hour lunch on the patio, she shared her story with a smile. There was no talk - other than my rapid fire questions - about pain or the agony of it all. Instead, she shared all the wonderful things about making the decision to be a 'previvor' instead of hoping to one day be a survivor. When I would ask about pain she would respond by saying things like "its surgery, you've had surgery before, you know how it goes" or "I don't remember pain, it was uncomfortable, sure - but not painful". Following up with "I am so glad you are doing this to take care of your health" and "you will be fine". But finally it really was her telling me that after having a mother and sister that had cancer, she had spent her life thinking about when it would be her time, her turn. That since the surgery she no longer thinks about cancer or her body turning on her with no warning. Fear was no longer a fixture in her mind.
Shit was profound! It was like my mind did a solid 180 from that conversation. It was such a different take and perspective, someone that was sharing with a smiling and didn't regret her decision one bit. Even with that foundation shift it didn't fully sink in until my pre-op appointment with a very robotic nurse (zero bedside manner) who chose to hound me about my choice to move forward with surgery and shrug off my questions and concerns. My mom finally interrupted her weirdness to tell her that I have been dealing with these masses and biopsies and surgeries for 18 years. Wait...18 years. 18 years of every lump, bump, weird sensation being a reason to worry. A cause for more debt and bills. 18 years of wondering if this was the time it all changes. I got it, in that moment, the essence of what my friend was trying to tell me about her experience. That this choice of pro-activeness is far more than the preservation of the physical body, it is a great step towards the cultivating of mental health & wellbeing.
While I am still experiencing fear about this whole thing and what my new normal will be. I am really excited about the thought of no more biopsies or mammograms. I stopped reading the chat rooms, in part because of my realization after my visit with my friend, but also because I started to really think about how we, as human creatures, process unfamiliar things. Usually its as pain. And maybe, by posting these blogs, by being really honest about what this whole process will be for me, that maybe it will empower others going through it to reach out as well to take care of their mental health the same way they are taking care of their physical health. I hope that someone reads these words and lets go of some of the stigma of not having any reproductive organs or their (original) breasts and talks about this all. The highs, the lows, the good, the bad... the horrible and the wonderful. I have done my best to not let my very, overly active, creative imagination run amuck. I stopped worrying about what bra I was going to need for after, if people will show up (working on my trust issues) to help me, if there will be pain, if I can handle this... and on and on - see... overly active. Instead I am trying to find my faith and move through my fear, because I know in my heart the land of thriving is on the other side of fear.
So tonight I say thanks to my girls for all the times they have enriched my life! For all the times I didn't need a fake id as a teenager and all the tickets I should have been written, I say cheers to you boobies! And for all the times I have been poked and prodded, cut and biopsied, and subjected to the mental warfare of waiting and uncertainty, I say peace out titties! You're no longer welcome here, you are being replaced and upgraded. Ok, I am ready, lets get this show on the road.
