Author: Alison G
To the left, to the
left … All the single ladies, all the single ladies…
Yes, I am a fan of Beyoncé, but these lyrics also have a lot
more meaning, which I’d like to share with you in my unique take on life as an
asymmetrical woman.
So, there was a film on recently, in it a man takes an earth
shatteringly beautiful woman home after picking her up in a club. They get back
to his room and he confesses, he was umm exaggerating about the size of his body
part. She laughs and says, ‘Don’t worry, let’s be real.’ She then takes out her
contact lens, then whips off her wig….he gasps…..next come her boobs, he
attempts to leave, and I kid you not, followed by her bottom and lastly leg.
I’m not quite sure what was funny in this after all, as hang
on just a few years back this could be me.
Breast cancer can have you feeling
like the incredible detachable woman
Just 4 years ago my body was in symmetry, my body parts could
have lined up two by two, to jump on board Noah’s Ark. Two eyebrows check, two boobs check…
In May 2012, aged 40 and full of life and mischief, my life
was interrupted by a shock diagnosis of an unknown primary tumour that had metastasized
(spread to you and I) to my lymph nodes. The next two weeks were largely spent
in hospital gowns, having every available test, chemical cocktail and
radioactive power being charged through my confused body. Every day I woke up
hoping this was a bad dream and put on a brave face to all those I loved. After
2 weeks it was confirmed as Breast Cancer.
I would say I was fortunate that I had 5 weeks from my diagnosis
until my mastectomy, it gave me time to absorb this information, and actively
search images to see what this would mean. I can’t imagine how difficult it
would feel to be given a diagnosis on Monday and operated on Wednesday. I
needed time to understand just what the heck was happening. So I remain grateful
circumstances enabled this (my surgeon being on holiday).
Have you ever seen a mastectomy image? I hadn’t, so I
educated myself and told myself, ‘You’re going to need to love this new you, as
you might be like it a long time, if not forever’
After being told I had cancer I wasn’t offered immediate
reconstruction, not everyone is, it depends on the type of treatment you need
afterwards, I had a locally advanced cancer which appeared aggressive so they
wanted to whip it off as soon as possible, before blasting me with chemotherapy
and radiotherapy. By the way it is annoying when people say, ‘so and so had
reconstruction immediately, why haven’t you?’ Or ‘so and so had recon and now
has amazing boobs and a flat stomach' – yawnnnnn.
I had time to prepare and cope with being left asymmetrical,
and predictably my humour emerged as a coping strategy. I planned a Bon Voyage
Booby Party, where with good friends we celebrated the imminent departure of my
left boob, playing snap, match the boobs, eating chocolate nipples. Jelly boobs
and all members dressed with fake boobs, the best being the old lady sock boobs
that made passers-by imagine we were a Hen Night. For me laughter is the breast
cure …
I had a blog 2theleft, where I could express my feelings,
and a closed Facebook group for my close friends and family, which was usually
filled with images, and articles. Many might think my humour tasteless, but it
worked for me. We made a playlist….’to the left’ obviously made the list, so
did ‘Gone’ – Nsync, ‘Man I feel like a Woman’. Tasteless and tacky yes, but a
way of helping me and those closest to me to cope with the shock of what had
happened.
You don’t necessary jump up and fully embrace your
asymmetrical look, for some women it can take weeks, months or even years to
accept and embrace this change. For me, I made it my mission to love my
lop-sidedness. I wanted to see the scar as soon as possible, and joked with the
surgeon by turning one side I was 7lb lighter. Not sure she found this as
amusing – she did make me wear a straight jacket for a while! I jest….
I wanted to accept the new me, and considered without my
left breast I could place my hand on the bony landscape where a boob used to
exist and feel my heart beating away, it’s kind of comforting. I mulled that it
perhaps would make me more vulnerable, and open to love. Hmmm we’ll come back
to that.
It’s not easy being asymmetrical, your body wants to
compensate for the shift and balance. Dressing is different, you have to change
the way your dress so that your prosthesis doesn’t fall out, or appear over the
top of your clothing giving away your secret. Initially you have a softie, that
you can squeeze into shape and then after your scar settles you graduate to a
silicon prosthesis that sits inside your bra and feels like a real breast. It
certainly intrigues most people who feel it, it’s like a boob shaped stress
ball. A heavy one.
Perks of asymmetry…
You have Go Go Gadget Boobs, I have a different one to swim,
a different one in the summer – I’m sure I could have a special one for nights
out even with a sequined nipple if I searched the internet.
But obviously you have no sensation, so if someone slams a
door on my left boob I look blankly at them, or if someone nudges me by
accident and flushes expecting a reprimand…they are surprised that I probably
didn’t even notice. Or and if it’s cold my right nipple will respond, and not
my left – which is obviously AWOL. I think people are too polite to mention
this.
Going through airport customs or being searched to get into
a club or concert will have a little doubt – imagine they realise it’s a fake
boob and then think I’m a drugs mule, or female impersonator. The ping of an
elastic glove can have me running faster that Bolt.
Women joke about finishing work and removing their bras, I
can go one up on this, by coming home and whipping my boob off. I never thought
at 40 I’d be going to bed with my boob nestled beside me in its only little
pillow. Will be my teeth next?
If there is a strong breeze in the office I can whip it off
and it becomes a paperweight …or if a conversation with a potential date isn’t
going well I take it off and end the night…. OK the last two are fictitious,
but what a thought though.
The lows…
At first I’d be self-conscious going boob less even around
my kids, but during chemo and radiotherapy I lost that, along with all my hair,
including nasal hair, eyelashes, eyebrows, toe nails and finger nails. I didn’t
lose weight though, no steroids and chemotherapy bloated my body and the scales
went up by 9kg. How’s that even fair?
Ending 2012 I felt absolutely repulsive to all, including
myself sadly. In public wearing a wig, and being fully dressed I might have the
occasional guy smile at me and I’d drop my eyes feeling a fraud. Thinking if
you saw me underneath this you’d certainly not give me the same appreciative
glance. The toll of the diagnosis and
treatment can grind you down, I didn’t want to focus on how bad I looked, or
felt, and instead focused on finishing all treatment and getting back in the
gym.
Being stripped of all things that you define as making you
feel feminine is extremely difficult. Every day we are bombarded with beautiful
celebrities and images of ‘perfection’ I can safely say I felt offended by
society’s ideal of beauty at this point in my life and had serious eyebrow
envy.
Don’t worry it will grow back ………
Well my boob won’t, unless I am a strange mutation after
all. Hair – yes, but let me tell you
growing back from bald is the longest wait of your life.
The year following active treatment ended my confidence,
that had initially soared for seeing off cancer and having No Evidence of
Disease (NED) dropped as reality took over, feeling uncomfortable with the no
style short style hair, the traitorous eyebrows that never grew back and my
stubby eyelashes, oh and hard to shake Tamoxifen pounds I wanted to hibernate.
Between 2012 and 2014 every woman seemed to have HD
eyebrows, doubly long lashes and waist length hair. I had a pair of eyebrows drawn on with a sharpie
– to stop them rubbing off, and slow growing chemo curls.
Don’t hate, appreciate….
In truth your body is a miracle, just as it can stretch and
accommodate a growing baby, it can defragment from cancer treatment and pull
back together.
It’s not even 3 years since I finished chemo and I have hair
I can flick, and twirl round my fingers, and hide behind again, oh boy that
feels good. To reassure anyone currently in treatment, no product advertised
makes it grow faster or thicker, it just takes time. Obviously my nails grew
back, my eyelashes too, not as full as they were before but that’s a potential
side effect of being thrust into a premature menopause from Tamoxifen.
It’s widely reported that women diagnosed with breast cancer
face high rates of anxiety, depression and decreased self-esteem. Whilst going
through treatment everyone is behind you regarding you a hero for battling the
bad C word. Once the active treatment ends, you are left piecing back together
your life and body parts potentially.
I am always saddened when I read about women who feel they
have been ‘mutilated’ and can’t look at their scars. Women whose partners or
husbands leave them as they too can’t cope with the physical, psychological and
emotional changes that cancer leaves you with.
I was dating prior to my diagnosis, and I haven’t since. Why?
I consider this a process that I’ve been working through, I had to work through
loving me fully and wholly first. Guess also after all I’ve been through this
hasn’t actually been a priority – a) Beat Cancer b) get a boyfriend.
Ok admittedly perhaps I was too fearful to show my
vulnerability and face rejection for exposing my own unique lopsided beauty
before now. It all takes time. For anyone else in the minority, as it certainly
feels that ‘being single during cancer or beyond’ is a minority, when you read
the thousands of threads praising loving husbands, Hang in there. People will tell you that, ‘someone who
really loves you won’t care.’ The person
who probably said that wasn’t single!!
My advice – be your own cheerleader, love yourself and let
your body and confidence repair. Once you start to feel this returning,
opportunities will appear too. I did a search to find threads, blogs and
articles from other single women post breast cancer who had not had
reconstruction and found barely anything. So I guess we have to be the ones to
step out boldly and do this, what have we go to lose? Remember if the date's
going badly, whip out the prosthesis and watch him run.
