I am going to BURN this bra

I can’t take off my sports bra for three days. I already want to burn it. I feel like I’m not clean. I can barely reach the crevices in this tight bra.

The morning after my surgery I walked by daughter with school, along with my mom as son. I didn’t have the energy to talk to many people but made it to the front of school and back home. My son allowed me to accompany him as his grandma to preschool drop off. We returned home and sat.

I’m trying to stay on top of the pain. It’s not bad but I don’t want it to get out of control. Tylenol. I’m honestly bored. I can’t do anything that used to take up my time like going to the gym and doing housework. My mom brought me reading material, but when I read, I still think. I still think about how many options I have and the waiting game I’m still playing. Which leads me to…….being exhausted from decisioning. I’m so tired of facing decisions. Here is the new one:

Just two days after surgery to cut the DCIS out of my right breast, I had a pre-op appointment with the reconstruction surgeon. We were late (of course) because we had to drive across the bridge to the city, and battle traffic and horrible drivers. We (I brought my husband this time) sat, uncomfortably, in the lobby of the reception area where people get tummy tucks and earlobe lifts (yeah, this is a thing). I filled in all the paperwork, answering “no” to most questions. No medications. No allergies. No glaucoma. Once brought back, the RN who was in charge of walking us through the details of surgery began explaining all the worst case scenarios. No food or drink 10 hours before surgery. If we live more than 30 minutes away, we would need to get a hotel room – STOP, wait, WHAT? No. Wait, what? No. Why? Apparently, then don’t want the person accompanying you to drive you home and have something go wrong and have you not able to come back. These scenarios seemed more restrictive (and frankly, scary) than the surgery to cut the CANCER out. What? Why?

After adamantly telling her we would be fine going home and that if anything happened, we would go to our more local hospital – double checking that the reconstruction surgeon is licensed there – we continued with the reconstruction surgery details. An epidural would be needed along with general anesthesia. Wait, what? Why? Again, seemed more extreme than the local anesthesia I had to cut the CANCER out. The RN would have to check to see if for my particular surgery, I would need all that.

So we moved on. I asked about timing for reconstruction, double checking that reconstruction would happen BEFORE radiation. I could remember that fact but needed to be reminded of why. She said that once the skin and tissue is radiated (irradiated?) that it is less likely to heal as well. This could lead to necrosis. Skin death. What does this mean? It means that if you decide to have reconstruction after radiation, that you are less likely to heal the best and could endure tissue death. Necrosis. Dead tissue that needs to be scraped off. Your nipple could turn black and need to be cut off. Grossing you out yet? Well, it didn’t take long for me to cringe and physically move back in my chair.

I can easily say that I was not comfortable with this woman sitting in front of me. I stopped her several times and said that I was sitting on the fence about this surgery because it is not required for my long-term health. She agreed that it wasn’t required for long term health but that it is highly desirable for long term happiness. Well, I am uncomfortable with that statement. So boobs equal happiness? No, I am in the wrong place in my life. No. Nope. Nuh uh. NO BOOB JOB.

My husband asked if the surgeon could speak with us for a few minutes. It was clear to me that he wasn’t on board either.

The surgeon stepped in and brought us back down to earth. She was reasonable and put our fears at ease a bit and explained things in a less bitchy way (to be honest). Her plan for me was a lift of the right breast and a reduction and lift of the left breast – to make them match. The procedure would take local anesthesia, just like the previous surgery, and would take 3 hours or less, “depending on how particular I get with making the tissues match” she said, as she winked and leaned back, letting me know that it was not a complicated surgery, just a longer surgery based on her artistry.

I asked again (and again and again) about recovery. Since it seemed that I was recovering pretty well from the first surgery, I really wanted to hear that the second surgery would be easy as well. And while I didn’t get any guarantee, the surgeon said that people tend to recover similarly based on other surgeries. With the reconstruction surgery, I will need to take it really easy with house chores, as those are the underlying causes of fluid build up, which is detrimental to recovering. But that I would be up and back to relatively normal routines in one week. It takes 4 weeks to heal completely. Radiation would start somewhere in between 1-3 weeks after surgery, depending on all healing and clinic schedules.

I asked her to look at my right breast, as we were convinced it didn’t look so altered from the cancer-removing surgery. She said that it is quite puffy (looked normal to me, its not red…) and that based on where the fluid is, there will be a huge concave face on the front/top of it. So essentially a ski-jump on the front of it. Yes, I can live with it. It will be hard to find swimsuits, and bras might be a challenge, but it is liveable.

I asked about other woman who have faced this decision and how many have decided to go with reconstruction and how many have walked away. The surgeon gave an interesting answer: not many women are given an option for reconstruction BEFORE radiation, because it’s a fairly new option being given -with cancer surgeons and reconstruction surgeons working more closely together – and there isn’t a lot of data. The reconstruction surgeon sees a lot of women years after radiation who were not given the chance for reconstruction before radiation and now they want to feel better about their breast aesthetics. And those women now have to deal with higher risks of tissue death. She said it was her hope that by working with surgeons who take cancers out, they can create a new process where women are given all the options before incurring more risks later on in the process.

The surgeon reassured us that we do not have to have this surgery. She said it is optional. She looked at me and said its my choice. And to take my time deciding. She was respectful and thoughtful. I appreciated that.

Decision made to not make a decision. Perhaps I will receive a sign.

I can’t do that. I have to decide. Look, I want this whole Cancer Part Of My Life to be completely over. Done. Caput. I want to be done with radiation NOW. No, YESTERDAY. Not because I don’t want to do it. I don’t, but not because of that. I want it to be over so I can move on. So I can think about something not as bad. So I can move on to brighter things. The sooner I can move on with reconstruction, then radiation, then DONE.

So it comes down to this: if I am going to do reconstruction, it is going to be NOW, not LATER. Because it seems medically irresponsible to risk losing tissue with a reconstruction after radiation. But this is my analysis, and I am sure many other people, given a choice, would consider the risks. And I have already second guessed that decision. And I have already been told that is the wrong decision. I have also been told that it’s a great decision. I have also been told that it is MY decision and that I will be supported in whatever decision I make.

I assure you I will change my mind and re-change my mind at least a dozen times before surgery.