July 11th
My first day in South Carolina I wake up sick to my
stomach. I make it down the stairs and head into the hallway where I hear my
mom, sister and aunt up talking. I assume my mom has already told my aunt (she
was not aware of what was happening) what was going on and it seemed way too
early to tackle that subject so I hied in the hallway like a weirdo debating
whether I am going to go back upstairs or head into the living room and get it
all over it. I take a deep breath and decide to face the music.
Luckily no one mentions anything to me about it and I’m
thankful. We eat breakfast on the porch and I tell my mom that I’ll talk to
Linda (my aunt) when and if I’m ready. My mom says that was fine and she feels
hesitant saying anything because she doesn’t want to ruin our vacation. I agree
because I haven’t seen this side of the family in almost 9 years and I’m not
sure if it would be worth it now to say anything, even though Linda is the only
person in my family who has ever been diagnosed with breast cancer and it would
be helpful to speak to her, but I’m not sure about the timing. I mean, when is
the correct time to slip that information in? “Hi Linda, I’ve missed you, it’s been
so long. Sure, I’ll take some French toast for breakfast. By the way I have
Breast Cancer. Do you have any orange juice?” There is no way to approach this
without it being incredibly awkward. Lord knows I would drop the bomb on her
then offer to make her a sandwich since that seems to be my M.O.
The day goes on and we take the kids to the pool and
it becomes a great distraction. After dinner my sister takes the kids on a walk
down to the pond and my mom takes her wine (lucky bitch) out to the porch.
Linda and I are alone in the kitchen and the timing just seems right. Each time
I attempt to ask her to talk, my stomach fills with knots and I start sweating.
Finally I suck it up and ask if I can talk to her about something. I start
rushing through and fumbling on my words because I want the words out just as
fast as I want this cancer out of my body. I think that I am secretly hoping
that the faster I say it, the faster I will beat this thing, like it’s a
magical correlation of a cure. Insurance companies would sure hate that hidden
cure! As my verbal vomit continues to happen I see tears well up in her eyes
and then something happens in terms of her response that has not happened to me
yet. We both just start hugging, then laughing. It feels so good to laugh. I
used to laugh really hard almost every day, one of those days seems forever ago
now. Linda totally gets it. She starts telling me all of these funny stories
that happened with her prosthetic and people’s reactions to awkward situations
with it. She shares her experience with telling those around her, their
responses and her treatment. It was in this interaction that I received
something that no one else has been able to give to me…understanding. It was so
relieving to hear someone else talk about their experience, and to sit and
listen instead of having to beat a dead horse about it. Where does that saying
come from by the way? “Beat a dead horse?” I would never do that, for one it’s creepy.
Why are we beating something if it’s dead? Isn’t that a diagnosable mental
disorder? And second, why a horse? Horses are the best, if we have to beat a
dead animal, why can’t it be something like an armadillo or a snake?
Our conversation was like a surge of energy for me, I
was laughing, listening and actually enjoying talking to someone rather than trying
to pretend to enjoy myself. Linda gave me a gift that no one else has been able
to give me…I now feel 100% ready to move forward and get this shit cut off of
my body.
Let’s go back when I mentioned my aunt telling me
funny stories about her prosthetic. She assured me that they, too, would happen
to me and boy they happen on a daily basis. Rewinding to her though, she tells
a funny story of being a teacher and pulling up to school in her car. She was
wearing a turtleneck that day. She gets out of her car and goes around to the
other side to get her books out and as she leans back up after bending over she
notices that her prosthetic has crept up into her turtleneck and left a huge
lump in her neck. She frantically was trying to push it back down into its rightful
location as school was ready to begin. She also dove into a pool in Mexico and
her prosthetic ejected out of her suit across the water. Sure enough, when she
guaranteed that the same would happen to me, she was right…and now I would like
to introduce the comedy portion of this entry called “Darn you Pamela!”
First off let me introduce you to Pamela, my prosthetic.
I have two sizes: C cup and a D cup.
Darin has named my C cup Pamela and my D cup Dolly. Pamela was worn while I was
still pregnant and after delivery I had to put her up on the shelf and pull out
the heavy artillery, Dolly. Let me tell you that these things look like giant
cotton balls and in no way resemble the shape of a breast. When I don’t wear
it, it’s obvious (one side C/D cup one side 4th grade girl), but
when I do wear it, I have a very strange sized boob competing with the natural
one. Either way, it’s a circus. Pamela is a trouble maker. She doesn’t like to
stay in one spot and is constantly getting in trouble for roaming about the
cabin. She is a gypsy prosthetic. For six weeks after my surgery I couldn’t
wear anything on my phantom boob side, well I wasn’t supposed to wear anything.
But I found ways around it (more to come in another blog). I would pick Marco
up from preschool, run my daily errands and just hang around with one boob and
a big pregnant belly. I was very attractive. On the day I got Pamela, I popped
her in and went to pick Marco up from preschool. When he saw me he comes flying
up to me and in front of his teachers and classmates be shouts, “MOM! You got a
new boob! Hey guys, my mom got a BOOB!” Was I embarrassed? No. Was I mad that
my 3 year old just called me out? No. Did I find it hilarious? YES! Plus, what
an observant little guy. His teachers started laughing and his friends peeked
up from playing and looked at me unimpressed. On another day, I went outside to
Marco’s playground to get him. He comes flying off the slide clearly with an ulterior
motive. I squat down to hug him and he reaches down my tank top and pulls out
Pamela quicker than I can grab her and holds her up above his head and takes
off running. Pamela has just been mugged at a preschool. Marco shoves Pamela up
his shirt and starts running around yelling that he just got a new boob. This
time, his friends are impressed and they all start chasing him. How in the hell
is a piece of gross lopsided cotton more fun to play with than playground
equipment? I am helpless against this gang of thugs and watch poor Pamela get
smaller and smaller in the distance.
In my first post I talked about letting things go.
These experiences have helped me let go of any sense of normalcy that I wanted.
Besides, being normal is boring. Plus, if I am in the .01% of people that will
be diagnosed with Paget’s while pregnant, my life is going to be anything but
normal. I should’ve starred in Pure Luck. More to come on “Darn you Pamela!”
but coming up next is the most incredible experience with a therapy horse that
you can imagine…
"Pure Luck" is one of my fave movies of all times because I feel like my klutzy misshaped personality can relate 😏. Love hearing about Pamela and her adventures!!
ReplyDeletePS: aunt is remission?
You are the best at laughing. ❤️
ReplyDeleteAllison! Seriously... I look for these every day! I'm hooked! I am so in awe of your strength and your perseverance. I go through so many emotions reading this... my heart aches one minute and I have tears in my eyes and then I'm laughing so hard I'm crying even harder! I think about you often and am sending you my thoughts.
ReplyDeleteAllison! Seriously... I look for these every day! I'm hooked! I am so in awe of your strength and your perseverance. I go through so many emotions reading this... my heart aches one minute and I have tears in my eyes and then I'm laughing so hard I'm crying even harder! I think about you often and am sending you my thoughts.
ReplyDeleteI'm laughing and crying. I love your storytelling. I think of you often!!! Miss you!!
ReplyDeleteThoroughly enjoying reading this great blog! So sorry you're going through & went through this, but thanks for sharing! This one brought me quite a laugh ❤️
ReplyDeleteTHIS....this blog has brought me more wisdom and shown me what courage truly looks like than anything.....your gypsy boob....your capability to laugh when Marco mugs Pamela....the greatest mama, survivor, friend, well.....everything.
ReplyDelete