Night Before Mastectomy/Last Known Normal

Today is the last day of what has been my normal for 45 years. Tomorrow, I will be different. I’ve never had major surgery (thankfully) or a body part removed. I’ve never been truly dependent on others. I’ve never really been a patient. 

Being the triathlete nerd that I am, I fashioned this race belt into a drain holder. Instead of a race number, tomorrow it will hold plastic tubes and bulbs full of fluid that will drain from my chest for a week, give or take. I will not be able to shower or lift my arms. I will have to sleep partially upright on my back. 

I will no longer need the collection of bras I’ve amassed. I have chosen not to get reconstruction, and it has been the most eye opening and interesting part of this journey so far: the assumption that I would want fake breasts. That any woman in my situation would happily subject herself to further surgeries, foreign bodies, and additional risks just to look “normal”. Well not this woman. Let’s be real: mine aren’t that big to begin with, and even if reconstructed, I wouldn’t feel them anyway. They are much less a part of my identity than my hair - which we can discuss in a later post when/if chemo is necessary. But I do not need fake boobs to feel whole, and while I realize this is a hugely personal and individual decision, I’m at peace with my choice and my new normal.

Today I’ll say goodbye to a mostly healthy 45 year old body, to my breasts, and to my normal. Tomorrow will begin a new normal, one without bras or breasts. One without easy showers, exercise, or comfortable sleep. One in which I have to rely on others, on slowing down, on listening to my body instead of pushing through pain, one in which I am a patient. For today, I’m going to enjoy the sunshine and the normal.