The Many Lives Of My Breasts

My breasts are like cats, but with a third of the lives. While cats have nine lives my breasts have had three. All of their lives have been great! Some of the lives ended more tragically than others, but my breasts keep recommitting themselves to me and move forward with their lives. They stay proudly attached to my chest as if to say,” No matter what you do to us we will land tits out.” just as a cat lands feet first no matter what height they are released from. To give a full biography of my breasts and their tenacious lives I need to go back through their history.

I started with my beautiful little A- / B cup breasts formed by my parents’ DNA and God! They were sweet, small, perfect mounds. They definitely did the saying “more than a handful is wasted” a great justice. They were perky, round and pink in all the right places. I worked those babies! I could go without a bra and it was sexy not obnoxious. My college boyfriend Bill, who is now my husband of 20 years, always liked my first life breasts. He was always trying to get at them. Before I realized there were security cameras in the grocery store on campus, I would flash my first life breasts between the cantaloupes and grapefruits for comic effect as we tried to grocery shop. They were mischievous breasts!

Those first life breasts also went through two pregnancies and rebounded quite nicely back to perky little mounds. Not quite the same as before, but pretty darn close. They were most definitely on the A cup side post babies, but I still worked them with the help of Victoria’s little Secret called the Miracle Bra. It really could do miracles.

My first life breasts moved a few times and ended up in sunny California. Living in the land of augmented breasts made me curious. I was in the shower when I was 37 washing my first life breasts. I started thinking my breasts had done me well for so many years. I’ve adored them, but it would be great to try a new pair that matched my curvy J Lo-esq ass and go into my forties with some fun, new fuller ones. So three months and lots of feverish research later I was introduced to Dr. M a local plastic surgeon. My friend Jenn had had her breasts augmented by him and she had beautiful breasts.

I had met with several doctors, but it wasn’t until I talked to Dr. M. that I felt confident putting my precious breasts into someone else’s hands. He was perfect for me and he had this great physician’s assistant who worked with him named Sarah. She was 4’9” and reminded me of a fairy. She was also smart as a whip and called me sweetie from her heart! I was never rushed by Sarah or Dr. M. When I asked questions I got facts. When I was afraid I was assured and most importantly I was convinced I wouldn’t end up looking like Pamela Anderson with my boobs entering the room before I did! I wanted balanced and the ability to go to a school PTA meeting without looking like I would be working a pole later. After my meeting with Dr. M. my first life breasts didn’t stand a chance. It was time for a breast metamorphosis. I entered the operating room and gave birth to my second life breasts.

They were seriously the most beautiful things I had ever seen! I was and still am thoroughly enamored with those breasts! They were perfect, perfect, perfect works of art! Dr. M. gave them an A+ for their healing abilities (then again he was grading his own work). I worked those second life breasts just as I had the first. Every shirt I bought I bought with them in mind. Every morning I did a little boobie dance for my husband and said, “Aren’t these awesome!?” He continued to try and get at them. For once in my life, my second life breasts helped me like my ass. They made it seem the right size instead of huge. They were the “v” in curvy.

Then 3 years passed and I found a teeny tiny little bump on the upper left second life breast! It needed to be looked at by a surgeon. My gynecologist flippantly picked a name off an insurance list, but insurance or no insurance no one was going to touch those babies except Dr. M. Any woman finding a lump in their breast is nervous. I was frantic because there was a long history of breast cancer in my family. Ironically, my mom was still in chemotherapy for her third breast cancer as this lump appeared on me.

I emailed Dr. M. and asked if he would do the biopsy. Miraculously he still remembered me from two and a half years before. He and Sarah were calm and reassuring. I went in two weeks later for a biopsy and got a call later that week from a very sincere Dr. M that this was indeed breast cancer. His voice quivered as he told me. I realized in an instance that the end of my second life breasts was near and their ending was not going to be an easy one.

The next two weeks were a blur. Dr. M. and Sarah went into action for me immediately. Bill and I were a ball of nerves and sadness. I needed to make a decision about the life of my breast in two weeks. In that amount of time I tried to learn as much about breast cancer as it took a doctor to learn in six years of schooling and come to a decision about what to do with my second life breasts. What would allow me the greatest chance of living to be an old lady with Bill… lumpectomy, single mastectomy or double mastectomy with reconstruction? How could I best avoid a reoccurrence? My second life breasts and I were exhausted, overwhelmed and didn’t like any of the choices. I looked at Dr. M. and asked what he would recommend to his wife in this situation and he told me. He welled up with emotion, held back tears and said a double mastectomy with reconstruction and gave me the reasons why. He personally called a surgeon and oncologist he knew to be good and who he worked with often. I looked at doctor M. that day crying and freaking out like a trapped wild animal and told him I knew those doctors would be good, but I only trusted him and I needed him to be responsible for me through this. He said without hesitation he would take that responsibility wholeheartedly.

He and Sarah hugged me a million times. I made them promise I would not be a fat, wrinkly, breastless, old lady when I was through this. I knew what breast cancer treatment meant. I had witnessed it three times with my mom and it was ruthless in so many ways. The lost hair and fatigue it caused was the least of it. It was what you were left with after the treatment that really affected your life. It had already stolen any bit of innocence I had left at the age of 39. It made me face my mortality and sucked the youth out of me. I was aware that chemotherapy often stole your estrogen by shutting down your ovaries and putting you in menopause. I had been ready to age gracefully to face menopause and the sexual and physical side effects of it with my peers, but not now. Not at the age of 39! Cancer was robbing me of 10 years of my life. I knew in an instant my life, as well as, my breasts life was going to change forever.

Already on life number two, my breasts were such a part of me. They were part of my femininity, womanhood, sexuality and beauty. I realized I truly loved them, I would miss them and I would mourn them. After many meetings with Dr. M and the general surgeon we decided we would save them as much as we could. I was clear with the doctors that as much as I wanted to do the best for my overall well being, I also wanted the most beautiful breasts we could salvage. I was my breasts advocate. The tumor was high up on the breast and far from the nipple and we all thought it safe to save my nipples! A traditional mastectomy leaves little skin and no nipples, but I am not a traditional person and I wanted them saved if it was a possibility. After all, the nipples define the breasts like your eyes define your face. If all went as planned it would be possible to lose very little skin and rebuild my breasts in one surgery. I would not for one second be breastless.

I cried just as I was being pushed into surgery. I cried for my second life breasts. I cried for the life transformation I knew was just beginning for me. I am a firm believer, however, that life is now and you can choose to be happy or sad. In the end I always choose happiness. That doesn’t mean I am never distraught or taken over by emotion, but I wasn’t going to be defined by breast cancer. I chose happiness and light and I woke with hope. I was eager to see the third life of my breasts. I couldn’t wait to have the bandages removed and at the same time I was terrified of what I would meet. Would I hate these third life breasts? Would they ever feel like mine? Would we be compatible?

Sarah came in early in the morning to introduce me to my third life breasts. As she did she warned me that my breasts would be swollen, bruised, scabbed and there would be drainage tubes circling my breasts coming out at my armpits. I was prepared for the worst. As they were slowly introduced I realized that they were still there reborn into their third life! They looked like Cyborg boobs from Star Trek, but I could see their potential. They were recommitting themselves to me again. They had fought and landed nipple out on my chest. I didn’t hate them. I loved them as I always had, drainage tubes and all, and they just kept getting better over the next year. My breasts went into their third life fighting for their life and mine and we came out alive and kickin’.

Thanks to Dr. M. and Sarah, my guardian angels, I got to keep my figure, my life and my peace of mind! They called me at home while I was recovering, saw me all the way through chemotherapy, answered a million questions on email and are now my friends. Dr. M gave the mastectomy an A- (do you see the trend in his self grading)! The A- was for the right nipple that just couldn’t get enough blood flow to survive and peeled off. There is still a beautiful pink circle there and sometimes when you’re on your third life you’re thankful for what you have and perfection is not so important.

So that is the story of my breasts three lives. Just as there are no words for how thankful and appreciative I am to Dr. M. and Sarah there are no words to express how thankful I am to my breasts. The strength they have had through my attempts to enhance them and the disease that invaded them is nothing less than heroic. Their tenacity is greatly appreciated and I hope to know them for a long, long, time. My husband is still trying to get at them.