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My Mastectomy Without My Mom
My mastectomy was scheduled bright and early on an extremely warm Tuesday morning in Florida, June 2009. I remember lying in bed at the hospital before surgery missing my mom. Of course those who don’t know me personally, would not know my mom died in a car accident in December 2001, two weeks after I was married. She unfortunately pulled in front of a young college student driving home for the holidays, she was ejected from her vehicle and killed instantly. Those horrid images were going through my mind as I kept thinking, “I am going through one of the most traumatic experiences in my life; breast cancer, mastectomy surgery, by myself without my mom. Yes, I had a ‘significant other,’ (I was divorced after five years, had gone through severe depression after my mom’s death, thus, the demise of my first marriage), and my dad by my side, but the primary person I wanted in that room was my mom. Through my high school and college years, I had been in and out of the hospital on multiple occasions with her during breast biopsies, to find no cancer, and now, when I had been actually diagnosed, she could not be with me in person, only in spirit.
I do remember crying, and then feeling really insensitive as my significant other and father began doing the same. I had a 57-year old on one side of my bed, and a 70-year old on the other side, both in tears. The nurse walked in and said “You guys need happy meds;” though I believe I was the only one inoculated with the so-called happy drugs. I awoke that evening after 8 hours in surgery in severe pain. My first words were, “If I had known I would be in this much pain, I would have chosen a lumpectomy.” Unbeknownst to me, that same nurse who gave me happy drugs that morning heard me and said, “You made the right decision.”
My next memory was the following morning when I saw my cousin, Mandy who had flown down from Kansas City to assume the ‘mother role.’ Essentially Mandy sprinted across the room (Mandy only sprints, she doesn’t walk). I remember saying to myself, “Mandy looks so pretty, I like her outfit, and I have no breasts!!”
Instantly, my first sense of breast cancer reality and the decision I made to treat it smacked me in the face. Had I made the right decision? Had I really thought through my options to treat this disease?
I have enclosed an article and video by Dr. Patrick Borgen on the factors one should consider before deciding to undergo a mastectomy. Please share with someone who’s considering surgical options.
Dr. Borgen on the Decision to Undergo a Mastectomy
PS: Of course I had to include a photo of both my mom and my cousin Mandy. PSS: Please make sure to subscribe and share my weekly blog.
Stay Tuned,
Lisa F. Crites
The Shower Shirt Co., Principle/Inventor
Health/Medical Print Journalist & Guest Columnist
The Decisions in Managing the Diagnosis
Immediately after hearing those words, “You have breast cancer,” you are introduced to physicians you never really wanted to meet. Besides the general surgeon who will be taking the cancer out of your body, you are introduced to an oncologist who discusses placing drugs into your body. An odd thought: putting ‘stuff’ in, while pulling ‘stuff’ out, especially when that stuff is going to be medicinal poison which will cause extreme nausea and vomiting, and will rid me of all bodily hair (ie: leg hair (not so bad), underarm hair (not so bad); head hair, (totally upsetting), eyebrows (minimally upsetting), other inconspicuous areas of bodily hair (not to bad)!!
My first thought after my breast cancer diagnosis was, “I can’t do chemotherapy.” I have spent my entire 42 years of life trying to be healthy; exercising, eating right and constantly monitoring what I put into my body. I CANNOT have medicinal poison running through my veins!!! Unfortunately, this was something I knew could be a clinical requirement, something I might not have a choice in, but knew would not be emotionally or psychologically acceptable to me.
Luckily, my new friend, Dr. Soloman Zimm, otherwise known as my oncologist stated I had two choices in treatment for this cancer diagnosis. The first was to have a lumpectomy with six weeks of chemotherapy and radiation, plus tamoxifen for five years. My second option, to have a bi-lateral mastectomy with no chemotherapy, radiation or drugs.
Since I could not fathom the thought of placing chemo in or radiation on my body, I knew a bi-lateral mastectomy would be a better option for me. Plus, in all honestly, I was much more emotionally connected to my hair, than that of my breasts, so if I had to lose one or the other, the breasts were going to go.
In closing, I’ve linked an article by E Medicine, Breast Cancer Treatment & Management, on the many options for treatment of a breast cancer diagnosis. Unfortunately, not all patients have choices in their treatment. For me, having a choice was my saving grace through this unexpected chapter of my life. I’m thankful every day I was religious with my mammograms and they caught this unwanted breast invader early.
Thanks again for everyone’s supportive notes and e-mails. Please make sure to both share and subscribe to my weekly blog.
Stay Tuned,
Lisa F. Crites
The Shower Shirt Co., Principle/Inventor
Health/Medical Print Journalist & Guest Columnist
The Breast Cancer Diagnosis
As a former Health/Medical television news reporter I have interviewed hundreds of individuals who were either chronically ill, or had gone through some type of terminal illness. I was always able to pull a myriad of raw emotions from these patients, which was great in communicating a story the television viewer would have interest in. My last question was always the same, “What is the one message you want our television viewers to know from this story?”
Since I’m now reliving a portion of those storytelling journalism days through blogging, it was only fair I asked myself that same question, “What is the one point I want my readers to learn from this blog?”
This is what I want you to remember: There is life before being diagnosed with breast cancer, and there is life after diagnosis. The term “before” and “after” diagnosis is as different as black and white; night and day, Venus and Mars, which obviously brings up the differences between men and women, thanks to Dr. John Gray. To watch the rain from the inside of the house and not get wet, while watching from the outside and getting soaked, is the difference between before and after. Coincidentally, after a breast cancer diagnosis, you feel soaked. Soaked with sorrow, soaked with fragility, soaked with fear, but most importantly, soaked with tears.
Those words, “you have breast cancer,” changes the world as I knew it, and would venture to say, how ‘most women knew it.’ Even if the doctor says Stage 1 and non-aggressive; “we are lucky we caught it early.” It’s still Cancer, no matter the diagnosis.
I’ve enclosed an article on the importance of support roles amongst friends and family members and how addressing both the physical and emotional aspects of a Cancer diagnosis can help with overall healing.
PS: Thanks for all your nice notes and comments regarding my first blog; for questions or additional information you can reach me through the shower shirt website at www.theshowershirt.com. Please make sure to both subscribe and share my weekly blog.
Stay Tuned,
Lisa F. Crites
The SHOWER SHIRT Co., LLC,
Principal & Inventor
Corporate Healthcare Consultant
Freelance Health/Medical Journalist
To Blog or Not To Blog
This request has been hovering over me for several years now, to “Blog or Not To Blog?” My public relations team says “Lisa, you should blog,” my speaking engagement agent, my website developer and technology guru have all encouraged me to get involved in the ‘power of blogging.’
When I was diagnosed with breast cancer in 2009, blogging was the last project on my mind. To communicate to strangers I had been diagnosed with breast cancer, both breasts amputated, had medical complications causing seven surgeries, two-hospital acquired infections, and four months of hyperbaric treatments, (in my opinion) was not of interest to anyone. During that timeframe I was trying to comprehend the fact that my reconstructive surgeon was telling me I would probably only have one breast the rest of my life (a scary thought at 42 years old). While also dealing with this psychological and physically draining process, I was in the process of inventing The SHOWER SHIRT for breast cancer surgery patients.
A whirlwind year of emotional gymnastics, it was the first time I had ever questioned my own mortality. While struggling with what my future held in terms of my health, my physical wholeness as a female, I also experienced a rebuilding of a much more communicative relationship with my creator (something I will explore in future blogs).
In looking back, I’ve yet to deal with being diagnosed with breast cancer. I find myself listening to stories of other breast cancer patients and cry for hours. I believe blogging is now going to be my first step in dealing with a diagnosis I was able to physically overcome more than three years ago, though still not comprehendible emotionally. I’m on the ‘fringe’ of the emotion on a daily basis, while working to build The SHOWER SHIRT Co., and in doing so, working to keep mastectomy patients from showering in trash bags after breast amputation.
To make a long story short, I’ve decided to begin blogging to better share the lessons and knowledge I’ve learned, in hopes my experiences will help other breast cancer patients with their own cancer struggles. Please make sure to both subscribe and share my blog.
Stay Tuned,
Lisa F. Crites
The Shower Shirt Co., Patented/Inventor
Health/Medical Print Journalist & Guest Columnist