Psychological Recovery from Prophylactic Mastectomy

black-feminism

I generally don’t talk about my personal life here. There are a lot of BRCA+ blogs that deal with the personal experiences of individual women, and I want the risky body to do something different. Still, I have benefited so much from the personal stories BRCA+ women have posted online about their surgeries that I feel compelled to pay it forward by talking about my own recent prophylactic mastectomy.

I am recovering from the mastectomy and from the first stage of DIEP FLAP reconstruction. After my revision surgery this winter, I will post a detailed account of my entire mastectomy “journey” (a word I hate, but that’s another post). I’ve started drafting that comprehensive post. It is already absurdly long and probably completely TMI, because when I was trying to plan my own PBM and reconstruction, I was desperate for any information about either procedure that I could get my hands on. I hope that it will help someone out there who is anxiously considering, planning, or waiting for her own surgery. But for the moment, I want to talk about how I’m feeling right now, three weeks out of surgery.

I’ve read a lot of accounts of mastectomy experiences by BRCA+ women and BRCA- women with breast cancer. Many of them talk about post-surgery depression. Even the packet of information my plastic surgeon gave me warned that many women experience depression after surgery, it’s normal, and it usually passes in a few weeks (I’m not so sure that it passes so quickly, or ever for that matter, but whatever).

I didn’t know how I’d react after the surgery. I’ve had two years to get used to the idea of mastectomy and while I was 100% certain that it was the best choice for me, it’s hard to predict how you’ll feel when you actually following through with having supposedly “healthy” body parts removed. I was ready for the post-surgical blues and warned my partner to expect it.

But I did not get depressed after surgery. I do not feel a sense of loss. Quite the opposite. Rather than mourning the amputation of my breasts, I immediately felt like the newly transplanted DIEP FLAPs are my breasts–not “foobs”, “noobs”, “fake boobs”, or any of the other euphemisms that get bandied about in the BRCA+ community. When I peer down the collar of my shirt, my cleavage looks the same as it always has: you can’t even tell I’ve had a mastectomy. My new breasts are not perfect, not by a long shot, but I look like me. Even better, I feel like my old self–the self I was before I got my deleterious test results: the woman who didn’t live in constant fear of cancer.

More than feeling relieved to have lowered my risk of breast cancer dramatically and relieved to not have awoken from surgery with bride-of-Frankenstein breasts, I feel buoyant, happy, and free. As a natural-born cynic and self-declared feminist killjoy, these are not words I use lightly, but it’s true: since my surgery I have been uncharacteristically joyful.

For instance, my Facebook status updates are usually filled with sardonic quips, workplace in-jokes, cat pics, and political snark–I don’t post about my personal life much there either. But check out my first post-surgery Facebook status update:

“I knew I would feel relieved, but I could not have predicted how happy I’d be. I haven’t been this happy in two years. It could be the percocet talking, but I think it’s the fact that I kicked founders effect’s ass. Family curse, broken, boom, joy. [/earnest facebooking]”

In the weeks after surgery, I started crying tears of happiness when people would do kind acts for me. I realized that I am part of several different communities that care for me and want to help me in my recovery. Sometimes you don’t realize you have people until you really, really need them.

Part of this emotional high may have something to do with the heavy duty drugs I’ve been on. Part of it is probably hormone fluctuations from losing estrogen-producing breast fat during the mastectomy. But a big part of it is that after getting my BRCA+ test results two years ago, I have lived under a black cloud waiting for lightning to strike. I have been angry, confused, terrified, and sad–sometimes all at once. Now, I’m not. My breast surgeon estimates my current breast cancer risk is 2%. I feel liberated.

BRCA+ women have much in common, but everyone reacts to mastectomy in their own way. If you are planning a PBM with or without reconstruction, I wish I could say that you will feel this kind of┬ájubilance after your surgery. I wish I could guarantee every woman facing mastectomy that they will have this kind of positive experience. I can’t.

But I can say this: deciding to have a prophylactic mastectomy, planning it, consulting and choosing doctors, deciding on reconstruction, scheduling the surgery date, and waiting for that day to come–these things were far, far worse than the surgery itself and the recovery I’m currently experiencing. The waiting really was the hardest part.

tom petty

[This meme is misleading, because I almost always agree with Tom Petty]