22nd April 2010
My two week break from London ended and I landed on my arse with a bang.
People have a way of saying things that are not required. You find yourself being pleasant when really you want to shout ‘What the F**k?’
A women approached me and said, “Don’t I know you?”
I meet and greet people all over the place. So I gave her a quick explanation of how she may know me. “No” she said. “I know how I know you. You have breast cancer.” She replied “How are you doing? You hear about these operations leaving women disfigured.”
I look at the women thinking hell no!
The truth is the last thing a women needs to hear is the word disfigured. Women are so focused on body image that when you are told your breast will be removed the images you have in your mind are warped.
You are trying to feel optimistic and fortunate that you have beaten this diseases. Yet like every women who has had a mastectomy. You have the reminder first thing on a morning staring right back at you. Your emotions are up and down let alone the anger.
So please don’t use the word disfigured or twist your face at my unfortunate bad luck.
Only the other day I was out and about with my husband. We went to a barbeque and I noticed the man’s eyes were drawn to my breasts each time as I spoke. I felt like shouting “Hey my face is here! Not on my chest.” Now if I had Pamela Anderson boobs I would understand him looking at my chest, but his staring was pure ignorance. They would not dare ask Steve so how does it look?
It is like being a freak in a circus with people pointing. I am proud, but I feel I should feel ashamed. Why is this? I over explain myself wishing I was home and not in their company.
Maybe I am being over sensitive, but I am annoyed. I find my temper is getting short and I have little patients to be a socialite.
I feel like stripping off and saying, “Yes this is the end result.” But my job description limits me to what I am allowed to do.
I have still yet to get my nipple done and I feel I am on my lowest ebb.
I received a letter from my aunty requesting a few details about my breast cancer. Apparently for my aunty to get checked they need more information. It is the same information my younger sister requested, but she wanted the genetic testing done.
I’ve just finished a one hour phone call with my aunty. She explained she did not want to go through checks straight away. Explaining how the mind can bring up all sorts of aches and pains.
I explained to her that I will get a letter from the breast clinic with all the details. It is better if it is from them rather than me playing guess work. The only problem is if my aunty has breast cancer then there could be a direct connection. Then my younger sister and older need to get tested urgently, but she did reassure me that she thinks it is a false alarm and it is better to end speculation altogether. Yet I still have to ask why she has to go through all this trouble. If she has doubts why can’t she just have a mammogram? The NHS makes things so difficult for women and families. You do not want to create panic, but you have no choice because you need information. My aunty was apologetic for imposing her request on me, but my reply was direct it gives answers so no apology is required.