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| "Diagnosis" |
I’m sketching a nude female in my figure drawing class. Each pencil stroke evokes waves of grief and despair. Tears flood my eyes, and I no longer see her clearly.
Just as well.
Pre-double mastectomy, this model was my favorite one to sketch. She has full breasts and a sculpted athletic body. She is better than a supermodel – she’s the Super Natural Woman with a Shakira-hips-don't-lie body. Boasting distinguishable shapes and forms, she is an artist’s dream.
A year after my reconstructive surgery, I finally feel physically and emotionally well enough to go back to class.
Or so I think.
Scratch, scratch, scratch, scratch. Students are frantically drawing. Some male students are greedily eyeing her. Between her poses, they even converse with her. She laughs, tossing back her head with confidence. Renewed grief and envy roll down my cheeks, as I think of my extensive torso scars.
I'm not exactly a work of art.
I fidget at the easel, lost, wondering if the model appreciates her body, wondering if she feels lucky that she still has the breasts she was born with. Wondering why I can no longer remember what my life was like pre-cancer diagnosis.
I tell myself I should be feeling happy; after all, I’m alive. That I should be grateful for the energy to draw again, let alone be back in art class.
I reluctantly glance back at the model’s breasts and wince, as I recall that a double mastectomy was not my original choice at diagnosis years ago. I had opted for a lumpectomy plus radiation rather than a mastectomy. Until faced with the choice of whether to remove my breasts, I had never realized how important they were to me. I wanted to keep them. My doctors would monitor me closely, and there would be ample routine follow-ups.
But my follow-ups were anything but routine.
My doctors and I had not anticipated the many false alarms during the years following my treatment. We also could not anticipate that, in my case, mammograms and other diagnostic tests would prove inconclusive – thanks to my dense breast tissue. After all, a mammogram had missed my tumor just months before diagnosis, and my self-exam helped me discover the malignancy. I had already slipped under the medical radar once. Given my breast cancer history, keeping my breasts was akin to playing Russian Roulette.
So now, after a year of recovery and physical therapy, I find myself back in my figure drawing class. Yet, from the time the model removed her robe, I feel awkward. I feel
like a fake
like a fraud
like a freak show
I was created in a plastic surgeon’s image of what a woman should look like. While cancer didn’t steal my life, it robbed me of my authentic breasts, replacing them with doctor-created substitutes. To my plastic surgeon, my breasts are art – his artificial creations made to look like the real thing. And I'm his living sculpture. Before surgery, he drew marker lines all over my torso. I admired his wonderful sense of line at the time.
Now those lines are forever etched into my flesh.
I realize, though, that, like my doctor, I’m an artist. And that struggling with a drawing is much more pleasant than struggling to stay alive. I breathe deeply, close my eyes.
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| "Hoping for Hope" |
Break time. My fellow students walk out quickly, hoping to catch a snack, smoke, or bathroom pitstop. I'm having a panic attack and having trouble breathing. I quickly snatch my pencils, pad, and gather my other supplies and make a beeline for the exit.
My instructor stops me and asks why I'm leaving. I tearfully tell her that she's a great teacher, but I'm having body-image issues. She understands.
I crawl into bed and cry myself to sleep.
Do you have body-image issues as a result of breast surgery?
How did/do you feel physically and/or emotionally after surgery?
As soon as I arrive home, I run to the dresser mirror, I slowly peel off all my clothing, so delicately as if I’m made of glass. No one would ever want to sketch me, I think.
Do you have body-image issues as a result of breast surgery?
How did/do you feel physically and/or emotionally after surgery?
I'm writing a book titled Calling the Shots: Coaching Your Way Through the Medical System. Please feel free to subscribe to this blog by clicking the orange subscribe button. I am a professional writer and have published numerous academic and magazine articles, as well as an essay on my breast cancer experience in the anthology Voices of Breast Cancer by LaChance Publishing. I can be contacted at bethlgainer@gmail.com and gainercallingtheshots@gmail.com.
This blog posting is an excerpt from my book in progress, Calling the Shots: Coaching Yourself Through the Medical System. Stay in loop for when it comes out. Subscribe to the blog in upper righthand corner.
Comments
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Sign in nowThis is absolutely riveting to read. I DO know exactly how you feel. I still look down and realize it's not about the art of the plastic surgeon, it's about NED and health but breast cancer touches our psyche on every conceivable (and some not so conceivable and possibly unexpected) level. Yes, I have body images and marital problems have made them exponentially worse. I am on the way back, however. Clawing and grabbing, but I'm on the way back.
Thank you for reading and commenting on this posting. Keep clawing and grabbing and never give up. You are so right about NED and health being most important, but as you say "breast cancer touches our psyche on every...level." I'm sorry about the marital problems. I do know what that's like. My ex and I had marital problems for a long time, but my cancer diagnosis just escalated them.
Beautiful post and amazing oil paintings. I too struggled with intense body image issues after my mastectomy. I'm in a better place now, but it was a struggle to get here.
I guess it's through our art, sharing and writing that we deal with these things. And once in a while, I'm all in favor of a big fat pity party.
Survival > Existence,
Debbie
Thank you for your kind words. I love your saying that survival is more than existence. Yes, I do have pity parties, but they are short-lived for the most part. I'm glad you are doing better after your body image issues. I am, too. This piece was written four years agao or so, so my reality then was so different from what it is now.
Not only do my silicone filled scars not have any nipples (making me feel like a freak), but my pain problems don't allow me to wear a bra.
I always feel like they whisper, "she's not wearing a bra to work out". I never wear one, because I can't. I have a friend that is so envious - she has no idea what I've been through.
Every time I see a young girl walk down the street with that natural sway...
Or see a woman who has twice as much as she needs - I just want to have some that's just natural - with a nipple...
I won't have one added. Another surgery is just too risky, given the pain I already have.
So I'm just envious.
Thanks for writing. You validate my feelings.
Dianne Duffy
Thank you so much for being brave and vulnerable. I have had a situation where this has come back up for me again this week, and it still brings me to tears. My yoga studio is creating a calendar of "real bodies" and I was asked to participate. (Double mx and no recon and my scars would be showing). At first I said yes, but this week I realized I just can't do it. It makes me sad.
Thank you for making me realize I'm not alone.
Katie
But on another note, I think your artwork is incredible. I'd love to see more.....
Thank you for your candor. I know exactly what you mean about feeling insecure in the locker room. I go through that, too, wondering if people are whispering about my scars. I've also had people envy me for having this surgery, and it simply boggles the mind, doesn't it? Of course, I try to remind myself that people may seem 100 percent healthy on the outside, but even those people we may envy could have very severe problems. One just never knows.
I'm so glad I could validate your feelings. Your feelings are normal, and there are a lot of women like us in the world.
Thank you for commenting.
Thank you for your compliment on my drawings and your support, as always. Your word "ached" pretty much described it all. We ache because of what we've been through. Like our fellow bloggers, I feel a sense of catharsis when I can honestly share my feelings. And readers like you make it easy to do that.
Thank you for reading and commenting.
I totally get it. It's OK that you cannot bring yourself to be in the calendar. It doesn't make you any less brave or less of a person to not participate in this. You have to do what is emotionally right for you. You are not alone.
By the way, I could never bring myself to go back to that art class, and it's been four years. I've learned to be OK with that.
Thank you, thank you, thank you for the high compliment on my art and writing. You nailed it by saying that writing and drawing/painting have been cathartic for me. Since I wrote the piece, I've learned to better accept my new body, although I do still experience emotional pain and, unfortunately, lots of physical pain. Luckily, I'm so over the "nudes" period.
Thank you for reading my post and commenting. I know exactly what you are saying about your "new" body. My surgeons also did an excellent job, but, like you, I just can't adjust well to it. Not a day goes by when I'm not reminded....
And thanks for your compliment on my artwork. I plan to do some more, so I would be glad to share it on my blog.
I am so glad you are happier now that reconstruction is done. It is a huge relief, isn't it?
Thank you for your comment. Body image is a tough thing to explain to our loved ones or the general public, huh? Yes, you hit the nail square on the head: people are glad we are alive and tend to brush aside (or not even think about) the other repercussions of breast cancer and its treatments.
This is an incredible post, both your words and your paintings. Is being alive enough? In some ways, of course. But being in our bodies, with our bodies...that is also part of being alive. How could it not be?
Thank you for this.
Gayle
Thank you so much. In the grand scheme of things, I know that I'm lucky to be alive, but as you say, being "in our bodies, with our bodies" is also a huge part of being alive. Breast cancer really affects all facets of our lives.
Thank you for reading and commenting.
I can tell you totally get it. That's all we can do is work through our pain -- both physical and emotional. I appreciate your comment and will continue to paint and write.
Thank you for reading my posting and commenting. I value your opinion.
An outstanding post. And your drawings are beautiful and moving, most definitely imbued with your perspective and awareness. xoxo
Thank you! Yes, as you know, body-image issues are really so important to people who have had/have breast cancer. It really is a significant part of this disease. And, like you, I often think of art and body image and about the images of the female body.
At the time I was taking the drawing classes, that whole body-image and art theme was forefront in my mind. I became obsessed with the human form, particularly the female form, and I think it was because I was trying as best as I could with my own body image.
Thank you for commenting on my drawings. Coming from a wonderful artist like you, they are such a high compliment.
Thank you for the compliments on my writing and paintings. This year, I'm hoping to share a bit more of my art. Body image, as we both know, is part of the breast cancer experience.
I apologize for not having your comment posted. It seems to have gotten lost in the blogosphere. Anyway, I appreciate your comment and thank you for reading.
I do have body-image issues as a result of breast surgery. Like you, I first had a lumpectomy followed by radiation, but then had to have a double mastectomy. I didn't opt for reconstruction, jointly decided with my husband, soon to be my ex. I don't think having reconstructed breasts would have kept my marriage together. I definitely thought I was less than a woman. I really thought I resembled more a man, flat-chested and short-haired.
After surgery I felt physically and emotionally drained, with drains sticking out from my side and my energy sapped. When the bandages were removed from my chest, shock replaced any emotional healing I had incurred to date. Shock that my breasts were completely gone.
Thanks for your insightful post. I won't easily forget my mental image of the woman who posed as your drawing model and your ruminations about that.
XOXO,
Jan
Thank you for your reading and commenting on this posting. We have a lot in common. I remember all-too-well the many drains in my body post-surgery.
I can't imagine the shock of not seeing one's breasts anymore after a double mastectomy. Shock is a good word to describe the whole experience, isn't it?
I'm sorry about your marriage ending. I, too, know what that's like. Mine ended, too. And you are right, whether or not you had breasts would not have mattered in terms of the marriage lasting.
My thoughts are with you.
Hugs,
Beth
First of all beautiful and gripping language you used, and the picture you used is also very relevant.
For some reason, your comment didn't show up on this posting. Anyway, I am looking forward to what your trip to Africa yields. Thank you for commenting!
Good for you for being part of such an important project! That takes so much courage; I'm not sure I could ever participate in something like that. I'm sorry for all you have been through. I agree that people have no idea about how traumatic cancer treatment and mastectomies are to women. Body image is a HUGE issue. We can't really get "over" such a trauma. And I agree, a cure is in order ASAP.
In a Line at Epcot
The line snakes endlessly—
body odors of the multitude
mingling with the fragrance of
freshly popped corn
and flowers cascading over
concrete barriers
The pleasure of a lazy afternoon
settles into my body
I watch the same people
over and over as we round each bend
in the velvet tasseled barriers
And each time I pass
the well-tanned, voluptuous
woman in her white gauze dress
the low-cut bodice leaving
little to the imagination
her bountiful breasts shining with promise
reminding me of endless nights of love
My heart stands still...
Even at this late date—
after all the coming to
grips with reality,
all the acceptance and
all the resignation
my heart stands still...
My longing is a raw wound
and her beautiful breasts
are the salt
Copyright 2012 Lois Tschetter Hjelmstad