It was this time of year 25 years ago that I heard those words. It was unreal–I had just turned 40 and was in good health so how could I have cancer? One of the primary reasons they found it was at age 35 I insisted on a baseline mammogram which was unheard of then. I was told insurance wouldn’t cover it, there was no need because of my age, and I had dense breast tissue so it would be difficult to find anything—but I told them all to stuff it and had the mammo. Thanks to that baseline, the doc could see the changes in the tissue just five years later.
The doc told me it was caught early, I was lucky, and I would have a full recovery. The doc also told me the surefire “cure” was a complete mastectomy. I looked at him and said, “How would you like it if someone told you to cut off your weenie?” I told him I had at least 20 years of killer dresses ahead of me and I was getting a second opinion.
After a trip to Milwaukee, I learned a lumpectomy and a five-year course of tamoxifen was an option and we took that choice.
I completely underestimated the post-surgical effects of the whole adventure. I was wiped out. The damn drain was more pain than the incision. Tamoxifen was a miracle but it plunged me into early menopause. I couldn’t concentrate. My hormones went on a roller coaster ride and I was nuts.
Why recall all of this now? Because the other day I found Breast Cancer Barbie in a cabinet. She was my therapy made at the kitchen table over several bottles of wine with friends. We hacked up her boob, used nail polish for blood, even used her spiffy purse for a makeshift drain, and tattooed my feelings all over her.
I felt much better after defacing a beauty icon like Barbie. I took her to a follow up appointment to show my surgeon and while I was laughing my head off, he was not amused. A serious guy, he concentrated on the physical issues and ignored the mental game of mutilating my decolletage. Men.
Breast Cancer Barbie reinforces so many things for me. Number one: be assertive about your medical care. Listen to your instinct and question authority to find the best course of treatment and if that means second or third opinions, do it. Number two: Laughing helps. Sometimes things are just so overwhelming the only thing that buffers reality is humor. Number three: you’re in it for the long haul. Over the decades I’ve held hands, mixed drinks, and just listened to many women in the same position I was. Every time brings back the fear and the pain, but every time we hope for a good outcome.
And every time, I bring out Breast Cancer Barbie for a good laugh.
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