It

It had been a traumatic ordeal and on the final night at the hospital I lost my composure. I felt utterly defeated. My lack of control over the suffering the doctors, nurses and technicians were inflicting on me had reduced me to a terrified shell of myself. When my surgeon finally released me to go home I was elated. I knew I had a few days before I would be prodded again by him and I was relieved. What I wouldn’t learn until later was that I would need to return to him every few days to have blood aspirated from the left side of my chest which continued to bleed for a few weeks. Then the surgical drains that hung from my sides, which we emptied several times a day, would need to be pulled out. I was trembling each time I visited his office for another procedure. I was still traumatized and could not control the fear. Meanwhile I was weak and dizzy and I couldn’t identify with my former self. It was too painful to wear my mastectomy bra with the prosthetics. I was still losing weight, mostly muscle tone now, from lack of exercise.

I was very fearful of chemotherapy, which of course is natural. I kept visualizing the Russian spy who had been poisoned by radiation the year before. I thought of the horror stories everyone hears about severe suffering for days on end. I knew I was a few weeks away from losing my hair, eyelashes and eyebrows. I did not recognize my body in the mirror after I removed the steri-strip tape over the incisions on either side of my chest and abdomen. The red ugly scars were difficult to look at. So I didn’t very often.

I had only been remarried a few months and now I was becoming an It. Feeling vulnerable, I asked John to remember how I used to be. After I lost my hair, what would be left of me that could be considered feminine? When looking at my chest you could have be looking at a pre-teen girl. I could see all of my ribs, not just the bottom few. How could John not be repelled at the sight of me? At the very least, it would be understandable for him to avoid looking at me.

I was wrong. So very wrong. And I feel okay about myself now. John never flinched. In fact the way he looks at me has not changed at all. I only see love in his eyes.

Love conquers all.