The Scar Project

May 30 – The Scar Project

I just watched a video and looked at pictures from the Scar Project (www.thescarproject.org) and I was amazed at the courage and honesty of these women and this photographer (David Jay). I highly recommend you go to the site.

This video and the pictures he took made me feel like part of a group of women – like I’m not alone. I go to Breast Cancer Group and we all talk, but it’s not the same. Our feelings of depression are the same. Every cancer survivor asks “Why me?” or “What do I do with this life I’ve been given?” and there are no easy answers to those questions. But talking is not seeing and seeing has made me feel not so alone.

I look at my scars every day. I check the incisions to make sure they are healing. The glue is coming off now, so it looks kinda weird – like when you take clumps of glue off the back of a product that’s been stuck to its packaging. It comes off in clumps or long ribbons of stickiness. The good news is – its coming off and with it the dried blood from surgery.

I always wondered if my scars look like everyone else’s scars. They don’t. It seems that surgeons can be as creative with incisions as an artist can be with a canvas. The human body reacts to being cut in different ways. Stretching the skin to prepare it for silicone implants can affect the scar in different ways. So, it’s amazing to me that even though everyone’s scars look different, they are all the same.

I wear layers of tops now, even though it’s over 100 degrees in the Sonoran Desert. I don’t want anyone to see what is hiding beneath the T-shirt and cami. I hide my scars with a T-shirt that says “Under Construction” and people praise me for my courage. I just want to hide them – the incisions that stretch from one arm to the other with a small space in between along my breast bone.

 I worry how they’ll look after the next surgery. Will my plastic surgeon be more careful with his lines? Will they heal evenly? Will they fade? I can’t look at another woman’s scars and predict how mine will appear.

Before I got breast cancer, I was always angry that so many pink ribbons were everywhere. Looking for a lime green or peach ribbon was impossible and everyone asked me when I said I was a cancer survivor – “Breast Cancer?” Assuming it was the only cancer that women got. Advertising is a wonderful thing, but it leaves in its wake a huge amount of forgotten people. I was one of those. I honestly must tell you, and I hope you do not judge me; I had a small moment where I finally felt like part of a group. Like in high school when you are no longer an outsider waiting to be noticed – I became part of the in crowd. It was a fleeting moment of insanity, but it existed. Now I have more pink things than I ever had before and scars where my breasts used to be. I would trade all the pink ribbons in the world if I could have my breasts back.

Breast Cancer is not a pink ribbon. It is fear and crying. It is courage and devotion. It is sharing and tears. It is radiation, chemo, and surgery. It is death and survival. It is knowing that your life will never be the same and desperately trying to come to grips with that reality.

It is scars.

I am one of the lucky ones. I didn’t have to have chemo or radiation. I don’t have lymphodema. My scars (so far) are not separating and my skin is not dying. I have a great team of doctors who take care of me. I have a wonderful support group who hears what I say and understands what is behind the words. I have angels who watch over me. I have the most wonderful spouse in the world. I have loving friends and caring family.

I have scars.

Turtle Shells

June 25, 2014

I remember when I was in labor with my son. I told my husband after about an hour and a half of constant pushing that I wanted to go home. He said we couldn’t go home without the baby to which I replied that I had the baby and I just wanted to go home. I was done. This was no fun – I was tired, I was in pain, I couldn’t catch my breath, I just needed a break. Maybe go home and take a dip in the pool or watch a little TV. Then I’d be ready to finish this little process. But I’m not a quitter and Joshua was about half way in the birth canal and in distress, so they gave me a spinal block and took him with forceps. Loved the spinal block! It was like taking a break and letting all those wonderful doctors do their jobs.

Fast forward to now and this whole making new boobs process and I must say that I am done. I am tired of not being able to sleep on my side. It takes forever to get comfortable. If I didn’t have medications that knocked me out, I probably wouldn’t sleep at all. I wake up every morning in a small amount of pain – I would call it a 3. After my coffee and some walking around, the pain is tolerable at a 2 – all day, every day since May 1. Well, the pain was much worse right after the surgery on May 1, but it went down to that 2 about  a week before the injections started.

It’s a good thing I wear sandals all the time because there’s no way I could tie my shoes. I don’t even have enough arm strength to fasten my jeans for goodness sake. I do raise my hands up over my head and out to my sides so they don’t get frozen and I have to go to Physical Therapy.

I hate the way they look. Imagine two turtle shells under my skin (flat across the top with sloping sides) with long reddish, purple scars running across their backs. I don’t know if the turtle shell look will change after he puts in the silicone implants, but I certainly hope so. I don’t want to look like this forever. Plus my new turtle boobs are hard – hard as a turtle shell. The muscles are tight, the skin is tight, everything is tight. I feel like I’m wearing a very uncomfortable bra that is two sizes too small and I can’t take it off.

Then just when I’m feeling a little better and can drive a car or make my bed or do the dishes – wham! It’s time for more saline to be injected and the pain level goes up. Then I take my Valium and sit on the couch for two days. It’s a never ending cycle.

Next Tuesday, when I see the doctor again, I’m going to ask him about the shape of my boobs. Will it change after the implants? How long before me and my boobs are friends again? I know I will always have the scars, but scars fade and I can put a beautiful tattoo over them if I choose. I just want them to have a reasonable facsimile to boobs instead of turtle shells.

I am scheduled for two more fill-ups at 100 cc’s each. I want my next surgery to be after August 16, so I have until July 16 to finish my fills. I have 550 cc’s in each side now and I’m thinking they are a tad bit bigger than my real boobs were. My doctor says that an 800 cc silicone implant is as big as they go, so two more 100 cc fill ups should do it. But I’m wondering if I just got 75 cc’s and made it 3 more appointments, would I be less uncomfortable. But then I think, that’s one more poke with the needle and one more week of yuckiness. Decisions, decisions.

I hear that the month after the last injection and before the surgery is wonderful. You don’t even notice they are there. It gives the muscles time to settle in and you don’t have to fret about the next appointment. Really looking forward to that.

Then another surgery to undergo. I’ve decided not to get surgical nipples, but if my new boobs don’t look right, I’ll have to have another surgery to correct them. I’m keeping my fingers crossed that they’ll be perfect and I can go on with my life.

Honestly, scars don’t bother me. I have a few of them and each one represents a battle won. These will fade over time and in a year or two I won’t even notice them. I’m just being whiny right now. Like those last 30 minutes of labor with my son – I know it will be wonderful when it’s done, I’m just a little tired and need a rest.

For all those who are battling something and are in worse shape than I am, I apologize. I hope you’ll understand that I just need to vent and that’s why I have a blog. I hope your battle will be won soon and you can take a break too.