My Breast

In 2015 after ignoring a lump in the lower bottom of my right breast for a long time, I summoned the courage to call my doctor who scheduled a “Special exam”, anytime there is a mention of a lump you are sent to the front of the line so to speak to find out fast if this “Lump” in your breast is just a lump or a messenger of another kind ...In my case after a series of exams and a needle core biopsy was done, the results were given: ”Stage 1 Lobular Carcinoma Breast Cancer” the diagnosis was later moved to stage 2 as it was revealed during the surgery that followed there were some “C” tendrils who had made their way into my lymph glands.After being offered a variety of treatment options, I opted for a complete mastectomy with nipple saving. Ten years earlier I had a “suspicious something” with a long name, removed by way of a lumpectomy in this same breast, the surgeon back then suggested double mastectomies, to be on the safe side..I declined the offer.

My hope was that with a miraculous life-like implant, my completely gutted breast shell with all nerve sensations gone would still look good, no one would be able to tell I was breastless on one side. I could go on feeling more normal.

The results from the 6 hour surgery were impressive..I looked the same except for a scar that was expertly placed underneath the bottom of the breast and ran upward to the nipple, you had to actually lift the breast to even see the whole scar...I felt happy enough, I had peace of mind at least temporarily that I no longer had cancer and could keep my breast and nipple; to the touch the breast felt soft due to the implant inside, but it bothered me that I could not feel the skin and nipple any longer, it felt as though the real breast was gone and that the skin was just a covering like a shirt you put on, to cover yourself with.

I loved this breast of mine. I thought it a pretty feature of my body, we had been together so long, from the beginnings of my creation. This breast of mine knew my history; as a little girl it was so flat at first with just a little pinkish bud in the center, going topless and free was natural. This breast began to change and develop when I entered puberty at 12, the it became a she and wore my first training bra, later in her teens she showed off her youthfulness in bikinis and plunging necklines, she became a mother and nursed a son and twin daughters when they were born. We were one. I never thought I would lose her, it was incomprehensible.

After the surgery I was given some time I call it “the space of grace” that gave me a bridge to adjust to this great shock of losing such an important part of myself. Before the surgery I had asked the surgeon if I could keep some small portion of my breast he would routinely surgically remove and dispose of.. I wanted it, as a kind of Sacred keepsake, I was feeling I could later talk to her and explain that I hadn't meant to hurt her by ignoring her...the surgeon looked at me shocked at this request. He left the exam room abruptly. Dismissed, I stood there topless a few moments. There was this immense yearning of wanting to hold onto the unholdable, it felt overwhelming unbearableness. I hurriedly dressed and left holding myself in.

Six weeks after the surgery I started to experience what is called “Encapsulated Constriction”. This means the region around the breast tightens up to encase the implant, this is the body's immune system rejecting a foreign object. My body spoke clearly and plainly, “ Take out the implant, it's not you, we don't want it” I obeyed.The plastic surgeon was irritated when I refused his request to install another brand of Implant. He said; "You're going to look saggy” frowning in disapproval at me, he hurried off again to his next appointment.

A lot of time has passed now, after much effort, introspection and expense not paid by insurance and even leaving the US multiple times to find alternative treatments elsewhere that were not toxic. I have adjusted and come to accept this very deep loss. I am considered a survivor of a much feared death sentence for many; I tell myself I should feel more grateful. The surgeon was right, it is saggy, I sometimes touch this area, still shocked there is no feeling, a certain sadness arises within me. I still miss wearing certain clothes that would reveal this missing part... I still miss her. Plain and simple.

About the Art: Before the surgery took place my beautiful adult twin daughters Maggie and Colleen came to me one day and asked me if I would be open to an art project as a way to infuse a deeper meaning into this potent sacrifice I was about to go through. This art would be a special honoring ceremony. The materials we used were cheesecloth infused with Plaster of Paris, acrylic paint for decoration and some golden wire.

The ceremony: We gathered the needed materials a week before, on Mothers day we headed north to our summer cottage…upon arrival we settled in, first stowing our bags and food away, we poured wine into glasses,then we began; quietly laying the materials out like sacred objects, on the round kitchen table that had transformed itself into an altar, we lit a candle and held one another's hands, we huddled and hugged each other a long time, letting ourselves cry a little as we felt held.

We each offered some words of hope and healing, then we removed our tops, then our bras... We just knew what to do. Silently we took turns dipping the infused plaster strips into the trays of water watching as the excess water dripped off.

Then taking turns we began applying the white strips, one at a time slowly, carefully and tenderly, it took time… we finished,waited,drank some more wine, wanting to be certain the delicate casts were dry and had hardened enough then as if on cue, one at a time the first of us bent over as the other two midwives held out their hands to receive the new born Creation.

We were very pleased with our results, the Breast Plates looked amazing and revealed our feminine beauty so perfectly, we congratulated ourselves on this good work. We cleaned up. The next day we painted and decorated our Newborns and went home... somehow knowing something very mystical and timeless had been enacted by us as women.

These Breast Plates are beautiful and deeply Symbolic of so much.

These treasures are now housed in my Art cave below the house. Sometimes I stand and look at them. They look back. I remember and feel Ok, enough.

“Angelic Healing” is the name of the Black and white art drawing..by Bhavani while at sat Yoga Ashram in Costa Rica

“Wings in Motion” by Jenny Miller

“Hope is a funny thing and I don't think you have to go searching for it at all. Its inside you all this while just waiting for a chance to shoot to the surface and drag you with it. You must give it a chance to do what its meant to do, which is mainly to pull you up to your first real breath, to save your very life, to set your wings in motion and give fear the boot and I do mean kick it right to the curb and let joy explode inside your precious Chest… So let go, dear one, let go….