My recent journey through grief, loss and healing and what I discovered in the end. And… dedicated to those who may be confronted with a similar choice.
Recently, a window opened up for me to make a choice. It wasn’t an easy choice, but I made that choice just the same.
Some of my readers may know that it was 2022 in which I found out that I had a very aggressive and fast moving ovarian cancer, stage 3. Unbeknownst to me at the time, I found out that I had, still have, the BRCA 2 gene mutation, which I inherited from my mother.
This mutated gene is well known for ovarian and breast cancer in women, among a few other cancers particular to this mutated gene. This gene is what killed my mother, and my mother’s father before her, with prostrate cancer.
As some of you know already, ovarian cancer grows, many times undetected. When one discovers its existence, death is often imminent because it has already spread too far.
In my case, when cancer was discovered, I had a good medical team who did everything they could to extinguish it. I had extensive surgery to remove it, and they destroyed even the thought of what might later become cancer. I had some chemical treatments afterward and have been cancer free since then.
That original post from 2022 can be found here- https://griefandmourning.com/shedding-light-on-trauma
This Next Thing to Consider
So, it was during a routine check up, after my standard irradication protocol, when my female Oncologist Doctor asked me about how I wanted to proceed with my breasts. I said, “Wait, what? Are you kidding me? I’ll take my chances.” After all that, I couldn’t believe that there was this next thing to consider.
I’m not sure how many times she asked me that question each time I went in for one of my frequent check-ups, but at some point I agreed to go to the next step, which was to visit a surgeon specializing in mastectomy.
I learned a few things- even that I could have reconstructive surgery, but honestly, I was still not just a “no”, but a “Hell No!” I couldn’t wrap my head around the idea. Besides, even if I thought it was a good idea at some point, I was uncertain that insurance would cover this as it is a large expense and I did not have the money to pay for it myself. So, it did not happen that year.
Several Office Visits Later… (Narrator Voice)
It was several times later, when she asked again, that I agreed to go to another surgeon for a second opinion. This surgeon made more sense. She answered some questions and gave me some reasonable options. I agreed to go one step further to consult with one of their reconstructive Plastic Surgeons.
I found out that, because I had not already had breast cancer, along with the radiation treatment to kill it, that I was a great candidate to have breast tissue removal and breast reconstruction is the same surgery process, as not to drag this thing out. I also learned that it was likely, given my gene mutation, that it would be covered by insurance. I still didn’t believe it though.
My Internal Debate
I think it was about a four-week period of time from that last appointment to the scheduled surgery. In that time, I went back and forth in thought until I saw that, despite my not wanting to go forward with it, It was really the best thing for me, given many factors that I won’t spend time going into.
With the time I had, I got a lot of projects done around the house. I knew that if this surgery actually happened, I would have some down time to recover so I kept busy for most of that time. Even then, I was skeptical that insurance would cover my procedure so I didn’t fret too much. I actually caught myself thinking that the insurance not being covered, would be my legitimate way out of this.
I didn’t think the surgery was going to happen, until I found out that it was. Insurance came through. I was about a week away. I changed my mind on a daily basis. Sometimes, several times in one day, even in one minute.
Enter Grief
Something strange began to happen. Although I am a Healer and Grief Recovery Facilitator, I started to grieve the loss of my breasts. As something completely different than what I have spent time grieving about in my life, I didn’t see that coming. So, I knew that exploring the loss of my breasts further was the right direction for me to take.
You see, my breasts have been with me my whole life. They have always been a part of me. Without really being aware, I have come to know them by their comforting and nurturing nature. I have expressed my love and caring through hugs and embrace. I’ve experience the emotional pain for myself and others through my chest. It was there I felt deep empathy and compassion.
As a mother of three, I have fed and nurtured my babies from my breasts. That gave me a sense of pride and accomplishment that my breasts could provide such an amazing start to their young lives. My ability to nurse was a gift unlike anything else. I had the sense of doing something very important for my children’s physical and emotional growth and development.
Through my breasts, at times, I could feel the power of open-hearted love expansion toward all humanity. I even felt that same love language expanding through the Universe in times of prayer and thoughtful meditation as a broadcaster of hope and peace. Although… there were those times that I didn’t at all. But that part was coming from my head.
It was the area of my body that I felt truth ring. My breasts were a sort of truth barometer that would tell me what to trust. Additionally, while some might swear on a bible, I would swear with hand to chest when promising and speaking my truth. With all of these examples, my breasts gave me a sense of honor as well as the ability to grok deep meanings.
And, of course. My breasts have always been a symbol of softness, beauty and the Divine feminine. A source of grace, passion, empathy and majesty all rolled into one.. or two, I should say.
So, in one single week, all of this was I grieving.
Then Came the Day
Surgery went well. Mission Complete. I came back into consciousness not from unconsciousness, but from an out of body experience that I have some memory of. The nurse staff were trying to wake me up, while I was already awake but pretending not to be so I could bring some of that” twilight bridge” experience back for me to remember in waking consciousness. So that was weird and amazing!
Fast Forward
It’s been almost two and a half months post op and complete healing is on the horizon. Although I grieved the loss of the lifelong breasts that I was about to lose, that week of grief was very valuable to me. With all the back and forth and wondering if insurance denying my claim would give me an excuse for a way out, it didn’t and I would soon go forth. However, having arrived at a peaceful place just before my surgery, the mental, emotional and psychological part was relatively painless. Thinking back, it makes sense to me that I felt that peaceful feeling from the area of my breasts, once again.
“After the Final Rose”
For those who understand what this trope means, I jest. It is not really about The Bachelor”s “After The Final Rose” moment, a reference where the cast gets back together to complete the show’s season, but it does remind me of it in ways. In that context and in completing my decision/surgical/healing process, I would like to share some of my insights about my previous concerns.
You know, grief is an interesting thing. If you follow grief’s path to the end, you will get through it and come back even stronger, and maybe, with an increased amount of wisdom if you allow grace to lead the way. Grief is nothing to be afraid of, though most people might try to minimize or sweep it under the rug, so to speak. I know it hurts and is very uncomfortable, but why not look deeply into it? You know, lean in because grief is part of life’s ride. Perhaps that is the way through a successful process. That is what I teach, anyway.
What I Realized About the Part of me that is now missing.
It was just breast tissue. All that I thought was connected to my breasts was really my heart, after all. Of course, I could not nurse my babies from my heart, but in a way I did because I did it with love.
I loved and hugged through my heart. With the sincerity of my heart I said earnest prayers, sent well wishes, hoped for and express joy with my heart.
I swore on my heart when telling my truth as the heart represents the last thing beating before a death is confirmed. My heart is where I determine the truth of things, for the head can be easily deceived.
Through my heart, I have felt empathy and compassion. I have experienced the bliss of open-ended love from my heart said to have an energetic frequency powerful enough to transmit into space and around the world. If that isn’t beautiful, I don’t know what is.
Lastly, despite that part of me that is now gone, but not really… my beauty, grace and Divine feminine are who I am and not limited to my body parts but remain steadfast deep in my heart.
“Copium”
To cope right after seeing my new reconstructed breasts with swelling and stitches after surgery, I could be heard by others reminding myself that, ” I am not my breasts.” I just needed this calm reminder to tell me that although there had been a major surgical change in my life, there I was… or could be, ready for the new moment. A moment that has brought about this newfound clarity that I am not my body… I just happened to have one.
In The End…
In the end, I’ve lost nothing other than breast tissue that had the potential to become, yet, another form of cancer.
I am still a comforting and loving nurturer. I value empathy, generosity and compassion. I’m still of broadcaster of hope, joy and peace. I passionately advocate for truth and grace with the softness of a hundred lionesses. That last one is pointing to the majestic beauty that roars (softly) from my heart. All of these qualities never lived in my breasts anyway, but from my the heart hiding behind them.
An interesting perspective of the heart-https://www.instagram.com/reel/DJnno4dt2t0/