My aunt's story
Hi all,
On a serious note, I'd like to share with you my aunt Betsy's story of her recent battle with breast cancer. She is my only aunt - my father's sister. I asked her if she would mind sharing some words of wisdom and experience with us. What she wrote back is so raw and so real...I feel as if I understand her experience for the first time, better than I ever did before. She is 59, a tough cookie, and unbelievable brave. Here it is:
For me, breast cancer is about health...once I was diagnosed, body image was the last thing I was concerned with. My first response was to tell the surgeon to remove both breasts. When she told me that was not appropriate, and that lumpectomy was an option for the breast with the tumor, I was adamant: Get rid of it, the whole breast.
Leslie, I wasn't interested in being a pretty corpse. If there was any chance that a single cancer cell might remain, I wasn't interested in anything but getting rid of the whole "infected" breast.
It wasn't even a breast at that point. It was merely a diseased body part that I really had no use for. I was over 50, post-menopausal. I'd already nursed my babies. And frankly, I didn't give a damn what I looked like naked. As long as I looked ok in clothes, I wasn't concerned with what was underneath.
I refused reconstruction because I was afraid the cancer might reoccur on my chest wall, beneath whatever was inserted. And [then it] would grow because no one would know it was there. I was also uninterested in additional surgery: I come from a family of doctors. I know that all surgery comes with risks. Why do something purely cosmetic? Were I younger I might have felt differently. But even then I would have hesitated, I think.
It's been five years, this past June, since I finished chemo. I am now on Arimidex and Fosomax. I've stopped waking up every morning, astonished that I am still alive...and not positive the cancer will come back tomorrow.
I still do my own breast check often as I am the one who found the lump: it never appeared on the mammogram. Even when it showed up on the ultrasound, it didn't appear on the mammogram.
And after five years convinced I was going to die, I've just lost 20 lbs. And quit smoking. I figure if I'm going to live after all, I might as well live well. There's a whole world out there and I plan to see it all.
Love,
Aunt Betsy
Thank you so much for sharing, Aunt Betsy. I love you,
Leslie
Comments
Wow...that letter made me tear up...thinking about things like cancer really make me feel silly about obsessing over love handles or a bad hair day. Your Aunt Betsy sounds like a very strong woman and I admire her so much for living life the way she does...cancer is a chance to give up or push forward stronger and she definitely picked the later.
I love this story
