Been There, Done That

FOUR times I had surgery on my right breast to remove something that didn’t belong there. 

First was diagnosed as a “necrotic mass”- yeah right.  In hindsight, they had it wrong. The mass fooled the doctors, but didn’t fool me, in hindsight, of course.

The second instance a few years later, people were looking side-eye at each other when they read my medical history in a file folder that was extremely thin. That feeling right then and there, with four medical professionals in the room and me, was of anxious movements as eyes skimmed my notes, shoulders raised to jaw lines,  silence, and people looking at their shoes, the wall, the ceiling, everywhere but directly at me, no eye to eye contact sending feelings of compassion or supportive glances.

The third time was to fix the second surgery.  Words and phrases like “gotta go back in”, “some residual tissue”, “didn’t get clean margins”. This experience was different.  Better. More understanding, compassion and an atmosphere of healing. This tour through the emotional wringer was still the same. Operating rooms that are cold, bright white, methodic, sterile smelling & feeling, and everyone’s actions and roles are very business-like.  A well chosen team who could communicate by telepathy, anticipating needs and actions to be carried out with grace and precision. S🩷ccess!! I felt sure, like a champion!  I showed myself and everyone else I can beat this with days off  from teaching, run a household, care for two kids and two dogs, and a husband who felt helpless and lost not knowing how to help or if I’d shatter emotionally if he said or did the wrong thing.

Then there was the fourth time.  This time hit me differently.  It felt different physically because I couldn’t feel it at all.  It reared its ugly head during a mammogram, completely out of the blue.  A regularly scheduled check up.   This one had a name- Ductal Carcinoma In Situ.  D.C.I.S.  Damn you. I had this beat three times which made me invincible, a conqueror, more than a warrior.  I was taken down off of the lofty pedestal I put myself upon in my cocky demeanor thinking I had achieved some kind of demigod status.  The protocol was put into motion before I left the Breast Center at UW. I had to come back, and soon to get this removed.  Another invasive procedure in another sterile room with a quartet of masterful medical phenoms.  

After each and every procedure, I felt there could be more.  More comfort; physically and emotionally.  More support. I had what I called “my personal Frankenstein moment” when you disrobe for the first time and see the swelling, the discoloration, the incision, the unnatural looking tissue and finally the sutures. What I was given was a support bra that was right out of the 1950’s. Bright white. Full coverage. Nothing soft. Not designed for support but fully reinforced.  This did nothing for my psyche. I cried when I looked at myself and then again when I had to put this bra back on.  I am a woman.  I deserve some physical comfort, some fashion design or color or print to make me feel like the human being I was prior to this. Everyone deserves to feel like they are supported; physically, emotionally, and comfortably.  This is my mission with my company to help anyone and everyone who is going through this type of medical surgery so they can feel supported, comforted, have better and restorative sleep to improve your physical and emotional healing during this most trying time of your life.

You Are Supported💜