Life after Breast Cancer and Thriving

On March 13th, 2016, I turned 64.  There was a time, many years ago, when I thought that to be 64 would be very old indeed... I hummed the Beatles’ song as one line played over and over in my head… will you still need me, will you still feed me… when I’m sixty four ?

Funnily, I did not feel older. In the past year, I did lose my hair and gained 30 lbs. due to chemo and steroids, but I am as active as I was 20 years ago. Becoming 64 was just another day turning; my life is a continuum, one day turning into another.  So, I wonder what the big deal was for Paul McCartney when he wrote this song?

Coinciding with my 64th birthday was the 1st year anniversary of the start of my chemo.  As a birthday gift, I decided that it was time to re-boot myself, look for a yoga studio that offers Hot Yoga, and go back to my practice.  My Cardiologist cautioned me to be careful of the heat and to mind my heart at all times (the Herceptin drug thins out the lining of my heart), but I did go ahead, and now, once again, I find myself addicted to it.  Five times a week, Craig, in the big F150 red truck (yes, at 220miles, it still runs!) drives me to the studio 40 minutes away from home, parks himself at a Starbucks, and with his android and a macchiato, patiently waits for me.

The first days were difficult. My left arm felt fused to the left side of my body as a result of the Radiation Therapy.  During the first session, determined to look good (even when I knew that I would be dead-tired at the end of the session), I wore good yoga clothes and remembered to wear my breast enhancer (another Amazon purchase by Craig) on my missing left breast.  Imagine a breast cup made of silicone. They are also called cleavage enhancers, except in my case, I have absolutely no cleavage to enhance, the left side of my chest is as flat as a chopping board.

When we were planning my mastectomy in Manila last February 2015, my surgeon suggested that I could opt to have breast replacement done immediately after the mastectomy, on the same day, on the same table.  He also suggested to fix the right breast so that both would be equally pert (God forbid that I would end up with one pert and one sad!). 

Without much discussion, Craig and I decided that any possible restructuring may be considered for another time in the future and not do it at the time when my body would be subjected to too much trauma, with mastectomy and the subsequent chemo and radiation therapies.  Besides, I would feel very funny knowing that I went into surgery for my left breast to be removed, then waking up (not only with one in its place but with two perfectly positioned breasts!), looking down, not feeling anything and wondering what really happened.  I don’t know what it is, but I wanted to experience and appreciate what my body would go through.  And so we voted no to replacement and enhancement.

So, there I was in my first yoga class, headstrong (as always) and determined to look fantastic, when the most embarrassing thing happened.  In one of the poses, Standing Separate Leg Head to Knee pose (dandayamana-bibhaktapada-janushirasana), as I contract my abdomen, round my back and bend over to touch my forehead to my right knee, I saw my silicone breast enhancer popped out of my chest, happily rolled away from me, settling in between the legs of the person in front of me.  I blinked; I laughed, and fell onto my knees. There was no other way to react but laugh at myself.  At my age- where I am, and where I have been - embarrassment no longer exists.  Nothing could embarrass me now.  I guess this is one of the gifts of age.  I now tend to take things a lot less seriously.

Now I go to my Yoga practice sans breast enhancer, and wear my missing-left-breast situation with pride.  The only thing is, my front shirt has no symmetry, with my right breast asserting its individuality by constantly pulling to the right with all its sagging might!  Like 2 sisters in a competitive tug of war, the right not realizing that the left has already surrendered!

Oh, ces’t la vie!  But, hey!  I am very proud to share that, at 64, breast cancer and all, 3 months back into the practice and praying that my heart won’t give up on me, I have become so much better and very close to where I used to be.  It is true, our muscles have memory, and mine is returning to where I left off years ago.

I am well (your prayers and goodwill sustain me), I am happy and content, I am at peace and I pray so are you.

With fondest affection and thinking of you, always.