With all the campaigns to heighten awareness of breast cancer, I had given some thought to what it would be like to have them removed. There were times when I even thought foolishly that there might be some benefit to it--my breasts were extra large and cumbersome. I had a hard time doing many sports, my back ached sometimes, and certain clothes just looked obscene on me. Although those issues were eliminated when I had my bilateral mastectomy, what I didn't understand was the difficult emotional and sexual issues that hijacked any benefit.
Something I hadn't considered much when hearing of others' plight is the simple fact that the breasts are a sexual organ. OK, obviously their primary purpose is producing milk, but the rest of the time, they're not just dead weight. We identify with them sexually, and many couples include them as a central component of intercourse.
Is this weird to read? It's very weird to write. I think largely because I'm afraid my mom is going to read this; then I'll be really embarrassed! Maybe that's why not many people talk about it--sheer embarrassment! When I was getting all of my medical consultations, not a single doctor talked about this. I did read a bit about sexual counseling in books, but I had yet to find real first-hand accounts of what it's like to go through this private ordeal.
I tried my best to keep the possible future struggle out of my treatment decision-making. I truly wanted to do what was best for my health outcome in the long run and didn't want other considerations clouding that choice. I'm glad I did it that way--it worked well for me, but once the decision was made to remove both of my breasts, the consequences of it sunk in.
One thing I didn't foresee was that from the time the decision was made, sex became awkward. It became sad. I would often cry. I knew that I had a number of weeks left, and that was it...here I am, 17 months later, and I'm still getting teary-eyed thinking about it. Breasts were such a huge part of our "routine" (face it, after 20+ years, even outside-the-box sex has some sort of routine in a marriage!), I didn't know what we would do. They played into the attraction, the foreplay, the main event...in some ways, they were more important than a vagina!!! I know that seems ridiculous, but that was our reality. No one dresses up in a sexy dress and has people comment, "Wow, your va jay jay looks HOT in that!" Hahahahaha, that's so absurd! But the rack??? That's sort of where it all starts!
And once you get the fire stoked, there's a lot of stimulation that happens there! And groping....and...well, you can fill in the rest!
So sex after that decision was made, before the surgery even happened, became sad. Will this be the last time? Oh man, that feels good....I'm going to miss that. Never again, for the rest of my life??? There's nothing else that makes me feel that can substitute for that....cue tears.
Sad tears are sort of a deal-breaker for sex. Kills the mood.
The few days before the surgery, the countdown really begins. Fear sets in. Questioning. Three days left. Two days left...and the night before? More tears. But you buck up, you be strong, because, face it, it's cancer, there's nothing you can do, this is the decision you chose, and there are about 20 million worse situations people face across the globe every day, so get over it. These are the thoughts that ran through my head.
When I woke up from surgery without my DDDs anymore, I had chest expanders in place. They were only holding 100 ccs of water or so, by no means substantial, but at least I wasn't concave. Although I had so much pain from some nerve damage, I hardly cared. As time wore on, though, and I continued to heal, the first thing I had to deal with was my shape.
Oh my goodness, I felt horrid. I was so disproportioned. I am overweight, and my former breasts sort of balanced me out a bit. Now, if you looked at me from the chest up, I looked almost athletic. Below that, though, I looked very misshapen. I felt like a Weeble Wobble (remember those)? I knew, though, that it was only temporary--once I had my reconstruction, I would look better. So I tried my best to forget about my shape, and to make sure pictures were edited to only show chest up!
No turning back now, no breasts. I was there, living it...and doing ok. I'm not one to look back with regret over the things I can't change. Finally, once I healed more, the first attempts at sex were made. Not too successful; it was so awkward and uncomfortable! I would usually just cry after a couple of minutes, and give up. The most success we had was just completely forgetting about foreplay because it brought up desires which were no longer options, and we stuck with positions where breasts are generally out of play, or "other options" altogether, so we didn't miss them as much. Sound like fun? Nope, it wasn't. It was a bridge, though, a foundation from which we could expand at a later date.
My advice to other couples? It's rough. But it gets better with time. Give yourselves lots of time to heal physically and emotionally. Stand by each other. Try new things, and forget the old. I do NOT like the advice given in a very popular book about breast cancer that a marriage can benefit from an affair at this point. Truly, it says that. The woman gets the feeling that she is desirable again, which then translates to better results in the bedroom. I think that is ridiculous advice. Why take a difficult time more difficult by adding in other complications involved in an affair? Yucky. You don't need to do that! Just be grateful that you have each other at all, cherish your time together, and be patient with each other. Communicate. Take the time to build up romance again.
I read the other day that you are most beautiful when you are doing something that suits your soul. Focus on your beauty within, and shine it outwards. Your body doesn't make you beautiful--your actions and words do, and your inner light bursting forth does.
Keepin' it real,
Jules
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