The EXAMINATION (Yoga at it's best)

Today, I got to see the results of another woman's bilateral mastectomy and reconstruction.  Up close and personal.  I was a little nervous going up in the elevator of my old apartment building.  And her apartment was one of the last ones at the end of the hall.  It was a long walk.  I could hear her clogs as she walked across the floor to answer the door.


Since I first found out I had Breast Cancer people have said, would you like to talk to ... she has had breast cancer.   It is a little overwhelming as there as so many types of breast cancer and these people are strangers from all across the country.  And you don't know but they might be really strange!  But this woman, C (as I will call her), was one I had to reach out to.  She has a family history.  She had DCIS and a mass.  She caught it early.  She used Dr. Bethke and Dr. Fine for surgery and reconstruction.  She loves yoga.  She lives in the building where I lived in my early 20's before I was married.  There were a lot of common touchpoints.  There are a couple of differences, she is 58 and post-menopausal.
 
Women who have gone through breast cancer are generous.  You call them on the phone on some random impulse thinking they can shed some light on this process or decision and then at that exact moment they spend an hour with you.  It doesn't matter if dinner gets cold or the laundry sits unfolded.  They are the only ones who truly understand what you are going through and they want to help.

All week long I have talked to close friends about this generous woman.  After an hour of conversation on the phone earlier in the week, she said, "I don't mean to be forward but would you like to come see and touch my new breasts."  I was a little taken aback but immediately stumbled and then said yes.  I am sure seeing the real thing will be so much different.  I have searched on line, look at pictures in the doctors office and these peoples bodies look nothing like mine.    I am hopeful that it will help me to decide.


We agreed to meet today after she did yoga and I worked out with my trainer (who sees it as his job to try to build as much muscle as possible before I have surgery ~ in other words to kill me).  When she answers the door, I am shocked by how tiny and gorgeous she is.  She is fit and has a yoga face.  I am not sure if you will know what that means.  But people that do a lot of yoga look comfortable in their faces.  They don't usually wear a lot of makeup.  They look like they like themselves.  (Other people who don't do yoga can look like this too but I see it a lot in yoga folks).  C is gorgeous and healthy even after a summer of surgeries.  

We sit on her couch, in her beautiful apartment looking out over the lake,  and we talk.  We talk about how to decide.  We talk about family and kids.  We talk about surgery and what will be hard and what to expect from every step in the process.  And then the moment comes.  C lowers a couple shades.  "No reason to give the neighbors a show," she jokes.   And she takes off her hoodie and then her shirt.  She looks great.  Different but great.  We examine scars and skin and she tells me what it feels like and what she likes about how it turned out and what she would like to have the plastic surgeon change (just a little bit).  We talk about size and sensation and it seems like a very normal discussion.  Perhaps it is for two women; one who has been cured of cancer and one who has just gotten cancer.

C is back to backbends, handstands and arm stands. She shows me the rotation in her arms and what it looks like when she squeezes the muscles in her chest as the implants are underneath the muscle.  She is right, it is different but it is fine.  Most people would never know.  The scars are minimal and she only had surgery the end of June.  Once she has nipples and tatoos, I don't think most people walking by her (even naked if she was in the gym showers) would notice.  Full mobility, strong enough for Ashtanga or Flow yoga.

C is joyous.  You will go on all your bike trips, she says.  You just have to get through now. 


On the way home I breathe.