Reality sets in

Everything is done...the blood work, the chest xrays, the EKG, massive amounts of paperwork and now I'm realizing that this is not a dream. In less than a week, I will have both breasts removed. I am grieving. Is it odd to be grieving the loss of parts of  your body? Perhaps if I were losing my arms it would be more appropriate to grieve...or maybe my legs, would that give more validity to my mourning? But breasts...that's a different story.

Just typing the word breasts makes me embarrassed. I've always been very private about my body even going so far as going into my walk in closet to change clothes. Maybe I'm a prude, but I just don't let people see my breasts...ever... but now, more people have seen my breasts than I could ever have imagined! Oh yes, I'm still shy and embarrassed but when medical staff need to see them, what can I do?

Maybe it's silly of me to be so protective of them. I'm sure most women aren't as timid as I am about their bodies. Next week, I'll be so thankful I'm under general anesthesia because I don't think I could bear the thought of dozens of medical staff gawking at my boobs. They aren't anything to gawk at...really! I am definitely not well endowed! If I were, maybe I wouldn't mind as much. Maybe I'd be proud to show off the ladies! But these girls are mine! I want to hold on to them and protect them. I have less than one week left with them and I am sad.

This is my plan...I'm going to memorialize them. When my middle daughter was pregnant with her first child, I took strips of plaster and wrapped her swollen belly with them giving us a permanent memory of her first pregnancy. I took the plaster cast, after it dried, and spent days sanding it and sealing it with gesso. Next, I painted a lovely mural on it of childlike butterflies and bees, caterpillars and other insects all in beautiful pastel colors. When I was done, I made a place to add the baby's vital statistics and after the baby was born, I added those and sealed the whole thing with clear polyurethane. I added lovely pink satin ribbons and presented it to my daughter with pride. She was so tickled to receive it and one day, when Heather is old enough, my daughter will show her the "shell" in which she lived for 9 months. So why can't I do the same thing for my breasts? I won't display it for others to see, it will be for my own viewing. I'll make a cast of them and one day after my mastectomies, when I'm feeling strong enough, I'll take the cast down and decorate it. As I do, I'll remember how embarrassed I was as a young pre-teen when I first started developing. I'll remember how my breasts swelled and filled with milk as I was preparing to give birth to my first child. I'll remember how I loved to hold my grandchildren close to my breast as I rocked them to sleep and I'll remember the horrible day I was in the shower and felt the hard mass, the one that I'd find out later was Cancer.

Yes, that's what I'm going to do. I'm going to make a plaster cast of my breasts. If you're reading this and thinking I'm strange, well maybe I am. I just know I have to do this for me. It's just part of the grieving process and although I haven't lost them yet, I know I soon will. Is it silly to cry over losing my breasts, maybe so. But this is just something I feel the need to do.

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