One of the frustrations I’ve had to deal with because of this breast cancer is my lopsidedness. Getting dressed in the morning takes quite a bit more thought and planning than ever before. I wasn’t small breasted to start with, but thanks to my mastectomy I have a bouncy D-Cup that swings a little lower since breastfeeding, and a rock hard, absurdly high, almost A-cup.
To make matters a little more interesting, the mastectomy side is augmented by a saline implant called an expander. I periodically go in for expansions, which means they inject more saline into the implant. This is in preparation for reconstruction after I complete the cancer treatment, but the expansions have to be complete before I start radiation. As a result, the size and shape of my mastectomy side “breast” changes to frequently. I’ll wait till the size and shape stabilizes to invest in a prosthesis, in the meantime I’m stuffing my bra with socks.
Yeah, you read that right. I’m stuffing my bra with socks. How very seventh grade. But at least in junior high they were both the same size, I wasn’t trying to make different sizes match each other. No matter how many socks I stuff into this bra, they will never bounce quite like my real breast.
The Stuffed Bra that Wont Stay Stuffed
These socks were made for wandering, and they do like to tour my chest wall as I’m moving about. They really like to get around while I’m running on the treadmill. Before I know it, they’ve worked their way under my armpit and each pump of my arm jams them a little further back under my arm, or even more frequently, they pile up right in the center of my chest. Excuse me a moment while I reach in and readjust my “girls” while running, and hopefully not stumbling, on the treadmill. Graceful, no? I find myself pushing my socks back into place as I walk around town. The boob is gone, it doesn’t feel like a boob anymore, so it’s easy to forget that while they’re just socks to me, to the average pedestrian it looks like I’m groping and playing with my boobs and I try to corral them back into place.
And yoga? the socks are likely to wind up just about anywhere, but I’ve mastered the art of readjustment during downward dog. People look at each other less during yoga anyways.
It’s not just while I’m exercising that the socks become an issue. A few weeks ago we sailed around Seattle on a gorgeous schooner. I disembarked the ship and my husband handed my 1 year old daughter down to me. She was a little wobbly on her feet as I set her down and knelt next to her on the deck. To catch her balance, she reached up and grabbed my shirt, and managed to grab my bra in the same handful. Out tumbled my sports socks in full sight of everyone looking down from the ship.
So if you see me out and about with a big lump under my arm, or up by my neck, or down by my abdomen, its just an errant sock trying to make a break for it. No need for concern. You might even be treated to a glimpse of my readjustment dance as I try to surreptitiously work it back into place.
I just joined an online challenge called 21*5*800 hosted by Bindu Wiles. 21 days. 5 days of yoga per week. 800 words per day.
I am so excited about this challenge.
The group is actually on day 4 of the challenge and I just got started. I’m just going to start where the group is, then add a few extra days at the end, probably just picking up the prompts I dropped from the first few days.
I’ve already decided that I while I intend to write my 800 words every day, I probably won’t share all of it, although I may share a portion. I want to get into a daily writing, and yoga, practice. I want to be able to be honest in my writing, and I have learned that I have to be much too careful about what I publish in this format. That said, today’s topic is relevant: Fear.
Fear
Fear has become a big part of my life since my breast cancer diagnosis. Fear of death? Certainly. Fear of pain? Oh, yes. Fear of being a burden on my family? Absolutely. Fear of the effects of my cancer on my one year old daughter? Terrifying.
I have found that the yoga helps. I’ve learned to breathe through the movements: the tough stretches, holding a challenging pose. That practice transfers to the uncomfortable and painful procedures. A deep breath and long slow exhale as I endure the poking and prodding makes all the difference. The pain is still there, but it is a bit more manageable. Focusing on my breath takes my focus away from the pain.
Fear takes me out of the present and puts me into the future – a future that is unknowable, yet my imagination tries it’s best to find every worst case scenario. Pain forces me into right now – so does my yoga practice. When I’m in now, what might happen doesn’t matter. Every moment has an infinity of possible outcomes.
When I’m seized by anxiety or panic, the yogic breathing can settle me down. Cleansing breath: long, slow exhale opens up more space in the lungs for a deeper, fuller inhale. Raise the arms to expand the chest, then slowly lower them as I exhale. Before I know it, I’m focusing more on how my body feels and improving this critical function. The fear is still there, but it is a bit more manageable. Focusing on my breath takes my focus away from the fear.
That’s not to say that fear is unwarranted. I have an aggressive form of breast cancer that has spread to the lymph nodes, complicated by another rare form of cancer that has a pretty grim prognosis. This is not something I can ignore or wish away. I also cannot focus only on the present. I am submitting myself to these procedures and chemotherapy, sacrificing my comfort and well being in the present, because I fear what will happen if I don’t, and in hope of improving my well being in the future.
so many things to do this summer
1. Kick Cancer’s Ass!
2. Get lots of sleep
3. Eat my veggies every day
4. Become habitual about exercise
5. Get really, really good at yoga – like sexy, awesome good
6. Catch up on all those thank you cards I need to send out
7. Rearrange the furniture in the nursery
8. Write more
9. Find ways to fit a little Joy into even the crappy days
10. Play
11. Dance
12. Sing (sorry if you happen to be within earshot)
13. Giggle
14. Snuggle with my baby
15. Get caught up on all the movie watching I’ve missed the past few years
16. Read a book for fun
17. Work the kinks out of my blog
18. Write fiction
19. Get a massage, maybe several
20. Pay the late fee at the library so I can check out more books
21. Blog more
22. Increase my blog readership
23. Learn to focus on what I can control and let go of what I can’t
24. Play
25. Spend as much time with my little girl as I can
26. Tickle my daughter more
27. Snuggle with my husband
28. Go on as many adventures as we can
29. Laugh
30. Do the best I can to make sure my breast cancer doesn’t interrupt my baby’s childhood.
It was oh, so early this morning when I dragged my reluctant family out of bed. Not one of us are morning people, even my 14 month old daughter knows better than to wake up before 9. This morning we were all grumpy and befuddled as we attempted to remind ourselves why we volunteered to drag our asses out of bed, feed and appropriately clothe the three of us, drive downtown, and then walk 5 kilometers in the rain.
We did it because cancer sucks.
We did it because I needed to feel like I was actually doing something, rather than just enduring procedures and their side effects, and even worse, all the waiting that goes along with living with cancer.
We didn’t walk alone – I want to send out a big thank you to everyone that showed up to walk with me: Aaron, Gem, Mom, Mel, Cora, Tim, David, Max, Ilona, Kristen, Paul, Sammy, Grey, Trisha, Ericka, Leonor, Leticia, Jill, and many others who were there with us in spirit. I especially want to say thank you to Kristen who picked up and distributed the team T-shirts and bibs – she also went out and bought the pink feather boas. I also want to thank everyone who made donations to the cause.
The experience of walking as a survivor this year was very different from previous years.
I got a pink T-shirt.
I went through the survivor’s finish line.
I got a medal.
I got choked up.
I got through it – and yes, I feel like I did something.
I’ve done a lousy job of promoting this, but next Sunday my team of walkers will join thousand of others in the Susan G. Komen Race for the Cure in Seattle. Our team is called Pretty in Pink – Judy Haley and if you are in the Seattle area and care to join us, there is still time to sign up. There is also plenty of time to donate, if that’s more your speed.
I also want to send out a giant thank you to all the amazing people who have already donated and/or joined our team for the walk. I have the most awesome friends.
I’m looking forward to the walk. It’s a great chance to see the city from a different vantage point. Usually when I’m on the viaduct, I’m cruising so fast I really can’t stop and take in the view. The last time we did this walk, I got some great photos. This time, the walk has taken on a whole new meaning for me. I checked the weather report and so far it looks like it will be the one dry day of the week. At least I hope it is, but then what do those weather guys know? I’ll be bringing ponchos and umbrellas just in case.
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