Seeing Double

“Make mine a double, no a single, no a double” and we’re not talking espresso shots, I’m talking about my mastectomy. I decided to have a double mastectomy for many reasons. First of all because of the type of cancer I had, a mastectomy was the only option, single or double was the question. Initially I was going to have a double only if my genetic tests concluded that I carried one of the cancer genes BRCA1 or BRCA2, but then all the “what ifs”?

What if those micro-calcifications in my non-cancerous breast become something? What if I’m always afraid? Another 60 years (God willing) of worrying about my other breast in addition to worrying about metastasis. Symmetry?

Finally my wonderful psychiatrist Dr. Lauren Perry asked, “what if there were no genetic tests, what would you do?” Double! Turns out I am not BRCA1 or BRCA2. So with my superb plastic surgeon Dr. Scott Spear and the God sent Dr. Manasseh we planned for my double. I would have immediate reconstruction with tissue expanders, nipple sparing on my left (non-cancer side), the nipple will be used to reconstruct a new nipple on my right side, sort of a two-for-one nipple deal.

My Mom came up for the surgery. We decided to have her stay at my place and I’d stay at Scott’s. This required my Mom who lives in a very small town in Florida to get around DC all on her own and at the time, in the snow! It doesn’t snow in Florida…it was quite an experience for her, she did it though and was great!

During one of my pre-surgery meetings with Dr. Manasseh Scott’s sensitivity and understanding of my great fear of having my hat coming off and waking up from surgery like that, asked Dr. Manasseh to be certain to look out for me. Which she certainly did! Before I walked into the operating room (more like a theater) she leaned over me and secured a surgeons cap over my hat, I can’t even begin to describe how grateful and touched I was by this. I remained in the hospital for four days after my surgery; I spare all the details and just say the people at Georgetown made the best out of a terrible situation.

So for the next few weeks from emptying and removing drains, terrible nightmares caused by the pain medication, the disfigurement in the mirror, the incredible amount of discomfort and pain, it basically sucked.

I’ve not mentioned Scott’s parents yet, but I have a great story to tell. First of all let me say that they are wonderful, or as Scott says, “they’re the better part of the package”. Del and Steve are part of the reason Scott is so wonderful, I love them and feel so fortunate for them. Back to my story, the first time they saw me after my surgery Scott and I played a trick on them. I stuffed my shirt with these small foam pillows that made me look and feel like I was about the cup size of a double Y. As they walked into the house I hugged them both, we could barely get our arms around each other, they were huge! Finally I could not hold it in any longer and Scott and I started laughing and gave away the joke. It was hysterical, Del said she thought to herself, “I’m not going to look, I’m not going to stare” and Steve, said he was thinking, “Holly Cow, how big are they going to get?” It was a great ice breaker for a sensitive subject.

Next stop: radiation and Dr. Moulds. The teams of people working in the dungeon of the radiation halls at Georgetown were fantastic. They were efficient and kind. I was “radiated” everyday for six weeks, (weekends off). The worst part was going everyday single day and the tiredness. Actually, not tired, more like narcolepsy, an overwhelming urge to sleep. It was so unlike the chemo or surgery where of course I felt exhausted, flu like, general malaise, but with radiation sleep was not only necessary but unavoidable.

I had my first CT scan and blood tests since my diagnosis a few weeks ago, thank God they were good. I wonder if I’ll always be so scared each time I’m tested. I’ll continue to see Dr. Liu every three months and Dr. Manasseh too.

Next is my final reconstruction surgery in which Dr. Spear will replace my tissue expanders with permanent implants.

I am no where near the energy levels I was pre BC, but day by day I’m getting better. I still need naps and take them often.

It’s been five months since chemo, four since my mastectomies, two since radiation. No one would know that I have nearly two inches of afro in every color imaginable, or that my skin is undergoing a radical change thanks to hormones, or that I’ve gained nearly ten pounds and have blubber thighs, or that my skin is as pale as milk. I like my wigs, hats, self tanners, great make up, lotions, spa treatments. They’ve played a significant role in my BC treatment, physically and emotionally.

It’s too soon to know the full impact BC will make in my life. Through out it all, yes it sucked, but I always tried to smile and still think life is pretty great. I’ve dealt with this in the best way I could, by being me. I could not let it overcome me. I’ve read people write “Oh cancer was the best thing that happened to me, I now appreciate life so much more…” whatever, it should not take a life threatening experience for anyone to make the most our their life.

There are so many people that made a huge impact and contribution to my well being with their love and support. From a practical stranger in the store to a co-worker of ten years ago (that I really did not get along with) calling me out of the blue to let me know she was praying for me. From Scott’s mother’s friends to his childhood friends. My cousins. My dear Aunt Betty, where do I begin? My sister and I have grown much closer through this, she visited me with my new niece Cameron who I had not had the opportunity to see after my surgery, it was such a wonderful gift. My brother Danny taking time to visit me. I just want everyone to know that it has meant so much to me.