Remix Halloween 2008

I hadn't put much thought into what I wanted to be for Halloween this year.

It seemed like a waste of time.

Last year, I was Michelle Obama. Jeff and I attended a neighbor's party, where John McCain, Sarah Palin and an inflatable moose all made appearances. We danced, drank and socialized, without having to discuss the economy or war or cancer. It was a fun night.

Then several days later, something truly remarkable happened.

Michelle Obama became our country's First Lady.

I like Mrs. Obama. She is smart, thoughtful, sophisticated, and her arms are ALMOST as fit as mine, which made her an easy choice for 2008.

So what have I chosen to be for Halloween 2009?

D B C

Deneitra Before Cancer (i.e., smart, thoughtful, and sophisticated, with strong arms)

What I will miss

I am trying to imagine whether I'll mourn losing my breasts. I've been so focused on the cancer, I hadn't given it much thought.

So I've decided before losing my second one, I should at least think about it.

My first memory of breasts, weren't of my own.
I was in fifth grade. Our class was released for recess, and my classmates and I went herding down the hill toward the playground. Back then, all kids loved recess. There was this girl in our class who, let's just say was "over developed" for a fifth-grader. As she raced toward the swings, something went terribly wrong. The zipper on her dress split apart; her bra came unsnapped; and one of her breasts came bouncing out. She was flushed with embarrassment.

I felt bad for her. But I laughed anyway because I was ten.

I won't miss her breasts.

My next memory was in grad school.
It was summer and our class converged on Galveston to study shore erosion. I shared a room with two other classmates and was the one who answered the door. Professor B. and I had almost concluded our conversation when, just before shutting the door, one of my girls spilled out. I gasped! He turned beet red, backed away, and never mentioned it again.

I won't miss that.

But what I will miss is feeding my children. For nearly three years (total, not each), I fed Christopher, Cameron and Noah. Cameron was an especially good eater: the only baby I've known to gain weight, instead of losing it, before leaving the hospital. Breastfeeding was more than a way of bonding with my babies. For me, it was the way my breast fulfilled their intended purpose.

Now that both breasts will soon be gone, I suppose that's okay too. They have completed their mission.
I know they will never look the same again.
And I'm sure that one day, I'll try to remember what they used-to look like.

But I also know that one day I won't wince or see anything particularly unsightly about my breasts. I will still feel like a woman.
And one day, I will count my blessings.

There's no way I would miss that.

Apps

There are over 85,000 I-Phone Apps.
Seriously, there should be an app for cancer.

Hey! Eyes down here!

Okay, remember when you were at a college party, you met a guy,
started talking and noticed his eyes drifting down your neck and
stopping at your breasts? If you were like me it only happened a
couple of times. But when it did, you probably said something
like, "Hey! Eyes up here," preferring that he talk to your face, instead
of talking to your breasts.

So now, a year or two later, I have the opposite problem.
My hem/onc doctors are obsessed with my blood, not my boobs. What
does that tell you? (This is the military, so don't ask.)

What does it take to find a doctor whose mission in life is to focus on women's
breasts? Isn't that what men do most of their lives anyway?
Remember: eyes up here.

I don't need Dr. Gregory House (aka Hugh Laurie) on my team.
He's always looking for zebras instead of horses.

No, what I need is a doctor whose "eyes are down here",
just where they should be.

Haiku

prayers rising up

humbled by your thoughfulness

knowing I am loved

The Offense of Pink

A few weeks ago, you might have noticed that the NFL was all decked out in pink, supporting Breast Cancer Awareness. The campaign was called A Crucial Catch. One of its goals was to highlight the importance of annual screening for women over 40.

If you watched football that day, then you would have seen stadiums awash in pale pink; goal posts wrapped in cherry blossom pink; and large, burley players, accustomed to wearing black and purple - sporting the softer, gentler color. Even the refs got in on the action.

So it was no big surprise when a boy, got dressed the next day and pulled on a pair of pink socks. I imagine that he was proud to imitate his football heros, but even more proud of his mother.

A day earlier, he'd watched a football game and wanted to know why everything was pink.

For the first time, since her initial diagnosis 15 years earlier, she told him about breast cancer...her breast cancer.

"Remember all the times I was sick?" she asked, without saying too much.
"Yes," he paused, "but Mother, you've been sick a lot."

So I visibly cringed when I heard that the kid's father looked at the socks he was wearing and told him to turn them inside out because "real men don't wear pink." Would he have said the same to the players who wore pink helmets, gloves and cleats in honor of their mothers and grandmothers, wives and sisters?

Of course not, but
it's good to know that his son is well on his way to becoming a "real" man
and disheartening to know that his father isn't.

TOP TEN REASONS TO HAVE THE BILATERAL MASTECTOMY:


10. I'll have a pair of matching breasts.

9. I'll finally have a tatoo, and no one will have one exactly like mine.

8. This time around, I know to grab the MEDIUM government-issued hospital wear.

7. I already know what to eat and what to avoid eating during my hospital stay.

6. Size DOES matter.

5. You will know that if I return from Mardi Gras, I came by my beads honestly.
(No way I showed 'em!)

4. Plastics have a shelf-life of what? Like 80 years?

3. I will finally have a little something in common with Dolly Parton...very little.

2. My breasts will never sag...but yours might.

And the number one reason to have a bilateral mastectomy is...

1. I can't wait to exact my revenge on cancer and look good while doing it.