Durban - I was told two weeks ago that I needed to have a double mastectomy as the breast cancer that had recurred for the third time in 11 years is probably genetic. Now, who would have suspected Angelina Jolie and I could possibly have anything in common – or have had a dip in the same gene pool?
I am in full agreement with the decision to have the mastectomy, and even welcome it, apart from the nervousness that I have about the surgery and recovery. But having had breasts for more than 40 years and never experiencing any antagonism towards them, I am puzzled by the sudden negative thoughts I am now having.
I imagine most women can’t remember what life pre-breasts was like. So it is strange, now that I know my breasts will be gone in a couple of days, to have these feelings of irritation about them. I find I am hyper-aware when driving that they are in the way of my arms when taking a sharp corner or going round a traffic circle.
Sometimes I feel as if I am driving with my arms stretched around the airbag. I am convinced I will do much better at reverse parking without the double obstruction that seems to be in the way, no matter which way I turn.
And as for the seatbelt? Well I have just had enough of my breasts getting in the way of my safety!
In the past two weeks I have developed an increasing aversion to bras. Having worn a bra every day since I was 12, I now rush home and rip it off. It is making my breasts itch, the straps cut into my shoulders, it irritates me around the middle and I am constantly fiddling with it to get comfortable. A bonfire of the bras is tickling at the edge of my subconscious.
And why do I keep bumping my right breast when I open the fridge door? And the handle on the pantry door gives me a jolt every now and then.
For the first time in my life I feel as if my breasts are weighing me down. It is as if I am carrying two lead balloons that are pulling me downwards to exhaustion. I have decided to do a before and after weigh-in to determine just how much my breasts weigh. I am convinced they weigh at least 20 kilos.
I suppose the shape my breasts are in does play a part. The left one, after surgery and radiotherapy, is facing due east and is as hard as granite. And the right one, after the recent biopsy, is bruised and a little painful.
So maybe it is normal that I am feeling more than a little aggressive towards them. Or perhaps it is the mind’s way of protecting me, by preparing me for the sudden empty space where once there had been flesh. The mind has a way of doing things to look after us. But I still find it odd that I have suddenly turned my back on my front.
I find myself lying awake at night and thinking of the stages of breasthood. First there are the carefree pre-breast years of childhood, when you are blissfully ignorant of what is to come. Then the teenbreast age: a little embarrassing at first, but once they grow into a perky pair they bring with them a certain confidence and the dawn of womanhood.
The voluptuous twenties are the breasts’ peak years. Bikinis, plunging necklines, tight T-shirts and sexy negligees are all the order of the day – and night.
For many of us we start to get an indication that things are just starting to go south a little bit in the post-breastfeeding thirties. In the fast-lane forties there isn’t a lot of time to worry about the fact that the bras are becoming more substantial. And then the floppy fifties are upon you and you start wondering if you should have gone for the implants in your thirties.
I haven’t got to the sixties and seventies yet, but I know that I will be experiencing them breastless – but not breathless.
Eleven years ago, aged 44, I felt a lump in my left breast. I decided to have it checked and that was the most important decision of my life. That instinctive reaction saved my life.
Because I acted swiftly I have been able to watch my son grow from a teenager into a young man who makes me proud every day. When I was first diagnosed I had only been married for two years. So that decision to have that little lump checked has given me 11 more years with my wonderful husband. I have made new friends, reconnected with many of my dozens of cousins, and discovered new hobbies that bring me joy. I have watched my beloved Pekingese dogs’ faces turn white with age. I have travelled a little and seen more of our beautiful country. And it’s not over yet.
I am approaching my mastectomy a bit like a new breastless beginning, not sure what it will be like, but looking forward to wrapping my arms around myself to see if I can scratch the centre of my back.
Trust instincts
October is Breast Cancer Awareness month and the best I can do is tell you what I know:
* Early detection saved my life. So self-examine, and if you feel any change, have it checked. Trust your instincts.
* Mammogram technology has improved tremendously. It is quicker and there is much less pain and discomfort. So don’t put off having a mammogram, it’s really not so bad.
* If you are diagnosed with breast cancer, find an oncologist you trust, because if he/she gets it right you could be in for a long relationship. Make sure it is someone who is honest with you and who keeps up to date with the rapidly changing treatments.
* Breast cancer need not be a death sentence: I am living proof of that. - Independent on Saturday
* Bruce had a double mastectomy last week at Entabeni Hospital in Durban.