Reshuffling: part 1

I know it’s been forever since I’ve posted, and I truly apologize. So much has happened since my last surgery, which was nearly two months ago now, even though it feels like a lot longer. Which is good, I guess, since that means I’m back to my crazy busy life and back to feeling like myself, and for the most part, not in that much pain. I’m still healing and still getting used to my implants. I mean, really, I went from an A cup (which I was my whole life) to a C cup, so I’ve got to get used to that new “heavy” feeling. Good sports bras while running are a must.

Let me start with my second post-op appointment, which was two weeks after my surgery. I met with my plastic surgeon for the last time, since he left right after that for a job in Virginia. (huge upgrade for him and although I’m super happy for him, I will miss him tremendously.) Anyway, I always envisioned my LAST post-op appointment as going a certain way. I don’t mean my last post-op for this particular surgery. I mean my last, last post-op. From all six surgeries. I pictured getting most of my restrictions lifted and feeling free once again. I pictured myself getting wings. No more restrictions. Pain is easing. Life is slowly getting back to normal. I had that, and more.

Surprisingly, at my two week post-op, Dr. Moyer lifted ALL of my restrictions. He said I could wear underwire bras, take Campbell for walks (and it wouldn’t be a problem if he pulled me), start running again, lift weights, do my stretches. All of my restrictions were lifted. At week TWO. I wasn’t expecting that. He also told me he didn’t need to see me again, and I wouldn’t have to come back to the Hershey office until January, when I’m scheduled to get my right nipple reconstruction started. And that is optional. I don’t have to do that at all. I may do it in January, or I may do it in 10 Januaries. There is no rush, and it’s strictly cosmetic. I don’t NEED it. And frankly, after six surgeries I don’t WANT anyone touching me or cutting me or doing anything to me, pretty much ever again. More on that later. (maybe way later.)

Just like you’d expect in a movie at the end of something big, my last post-op appointment was really, truly (and kind of unexpectedly) a REAL conclusion. A REAL end. I always thought the breast cancer and the reconstruction and all of that would never really have a definite end. I always thought it would trail off. Never really ending suddenly. After all, it takes a person months and years to recover from a life-altering situation. A traumatic experience. Breast cancer and six surgeries while planning a wedding. At the end it’s not really the end, right? In this case, it really felt like the END end. Something I thought I wouldn’t really ever get to.

I thanked my plastic surgeon and presented him with an engraved gift Sean and bought for him. I said this past year and my six surgeries were hard (understatement), but he made it easier for us through his kindness, compassion, understanding and patience, and I want to thank him for all he’s done for me. (words could NEVER express how I really feel – which is he gave me my life and body back after something so personal to me was taken away abruptly. And not only did he give me my life and my body back, he made my body BETTER. I have never been so happy with my chest as I am now. And to be able to say that after getting cut open six times, being “uneven” for a year and a half. To be able to say that? No words.)

There were hugs and more exchanging of words, and as he told me I was “done,” it really felt like I was. No need to come back. I was healing fine and looked fine, and I had no more restrictions. Tears welled up inside of me and it felt like I had just finished the longest marathon of my life. And I was surprised because I actually, really, 100 percent, felt like I was DONE. The breast cancer was DONE. The reconstruction was DONE. It was like a movie. The end of a movie. Conclusion. The end of a journey. The end of a chapter. That book closing. Really, truly and finally.

Perhaps it was the fact that I never imagined I would ever be “done” with all of this that surprised me so much. It was hard to see the light at the end of the tunnel when every time I thought I was done with surgery I had three more to go. Every time my pain started to subside, I’d go under the knife again. Every time I had thought about healing and moving on with my life the breast cancer was there, threatening me and my happiness and my future. So it surprised me at the two-week mark that I actually felt DONE. Something deep down in me (that same thing that didn’t let me move on before), rose up and took control. That thing – whatever it is – said to me: “It’s OK to be done and it’s OK to feel done, and you ARE done.”

And I believed it.

And to this day, I still do.

I actually feel BEYOND the breast cancer. It’s still very much a part of my life. I was in a fashion show last month as a survivor to raise money for the Pink Zone, and this coming weekend I’ve been asked to speak at a high school girls powder-puff football game about my experience. I wrote a column in my paper’s Breast Cancer Awareness Month spread (which I will post on my blog). I still read articles, try to reach out to other women, want to raise awareness, participate in walks and runs. I am involved with my fight and my battle. But the difference today is: I’m no longer fighting. I have won.