Flori, Flori, Morning Glory. You never stop making me laugh! But your post is also quite pithy. I absolutely agree that my body is not a pretty sight (in all its nakedness). Scars from hip to hip, from my tram flap reconstruction job, and a thing that looks almost like another belly button but isn't. The real navel is a bit off center, and *bothers my eye*. (I'd insisted on having the two surgeries on the same table at the same time.)
I'm numb from the pubic bone up to the place my brilliant surgeon handmade my new breast from spare body parts. Nurses tell me it's a great job, though I think of it as a reasonable facsimile. They tell you -- you should see some of the women who come in here. That's a great job. They couldn't save the skin from my mastectomy and warned me that the belly skin would be lighter in color. I looked at my stomach and decided no big deal. Well, after surgery, meeting the doc in my hospital room the next day, with my head in my lap as I could not raise it and my doc was insistent on getting me up -- I asked my beloved doc, When do you take the bandage off. I'd sneaked a peak, with my head down there anyway. What bandage, he asked? Of my God, I realized -- that is my new breast. I look like a patchwork quilt! And, as they went wide around the margins, the circle of scar that surrounds my new breast comes way above the bra line. So v necks are virtually out. Cami's are in -- so I don't draw attention to the odd mix of normal skin and what the hell is that.
I'm numb in the malformed armpit of the affected area and inside my upper arm. My real breast is pretty perky for a 62 yr old boob, whereas my manmade breast is way higher. A good bra evens thinks out, mostly. My hair came back but not my hairline. My brows never returned and was given some stray lashes that I plump up with mascara base + mascara, creating an illusion. I wore a wig when bald, emulating my once thick wavy locks. I learned to shake it out vigorously and then run my fingers through it when I put it on as if it was MINE, making it look more real. Some makeup and earrings (a must for me) made me look normal. Others always told me, You can't be sick, you look great. I felt SEXY. I feel SEXY. I even look SEXY CRAZY NORMAL. No one knows the truth, but my Paul. And he tells me I am perfect, just the way I am. He says it w/such genuine and loving verve, he makes me want to cry (w/joy).
Sexy is a frame of mind. Like Flori, my wonderful ladies, my stage *fourness* is just a number. Like *incurable* is just a perspective. When I was told that glum factor, along with *inoperable*, I thought I would die right there in the doctor's office. It was all over. The end of the line. Hopeless. Staring at chemo for the rest of life, and knowing I couldn't live like that. Then, came the miracle. My Spirit guided me on this incredible Spiritual path and Herceptin came into my life!! Both saved me and leave me feeling joyful and harmonious, most days.
I was always a bit crazy. I like to think of me as special, unique, my own person, with passionate beliefs all over the place. As my daughter says, I'm usually right (and yes, that is soooo annoying, keeping it to myself when I am bursting to *share* my wisdom w/others, because I truly care). My daughters both tell me I have no tact. Diplomacy and the need to be honest are always fighting in my head. And truth invariably wins out. But, despite the (mostly temporary) baldness and loss of my breast, my hairline, my widows peak, my brows and lashes forever -- you can most definitely look, and most importantly, FEEL sexy as hell. Even being overweight which is the final insult, as I eat RIGHT and don't *deserve* to be cherubic, I think of myself of curvy (which is accurate). Voluptuous. It's the idea in your head of who you are and how you accept and love yourself that you project. And that energy is read by others and responded to in kind. People tell me, You're a beautiful woman. They have no idea of the Godzilla side of me that greets me in the mirror in the morning. Then, I create the me I want to be. I feel better, cheerier, more energized and ready to meet the world. I'm pretty hot for an old chick I dare say. I do the best I can. I give it my all. I look confident and serene, and that's precisely how I feel, despite all the unwanted realities of my life.
I don't look at cancer as the grim reaper. I refuse to buy in to the whispered and profoundly felt fear that comes with the mere mention of the word. I honestly think less people would die from the dastardly disease if they managed not to get caught up in the waves of frightful energy that the idea of cancer evokes. IF ONE PERSON HAS SURVIVED YOUR TYPE OF CANCER -- YOU CAN SURVIVE. Take that thought and run with it.
Sending happy, healing, loving vibes to my fellow sexy, brave, determined, amazing, bright and wonderful Warriors all...
Andi 