An Anniversary and a Multitude of "S" Words
Today I am grateful for the simple pleasure of making Christmas cut-out cookies with my son using my Grandma's recipe. I am also grateful for this tradition, the other holiday traditions we carry out each year, and for new ones we create.
It is hard not to think about the people of Newtown, CT. They are certainly in my prayers. I am limiting my news time because it is just too disturbing, too unsettling.
I am breaking from my pattern and not choosing just one "S" word today. I am choosing several. I had considered calling the post "A Slew of S Words" but quickly disgarded the idea. Slew not only means "many" but is also the past-tense of slain. Like the innocent victims in Newtown.
Today, December 17, is the fourth anniversary of my third surgery to address my breast cancer--bilateral mastectomies. Here are some "s" words as I mark this anniversary. Surgery.Symmetry.Scars. Sacrifice. Sadness. Smooth sailing. It took time to get to that final phrase of smooth sailing, but I am here. I accept my body as it is, I wear prosthetics when I feel like it, I don't need mammograms. I am healthy and whole in ways I wasn't when my breasts were intact. But I will always remember the day I woke up with breasts and went to sleep that night without them. I will always remember the feeling of a strange vacancy for the first weeks and months after surgery. I will always remember the first look I took at my chest just minutes after waking up from surgery.
But compared to the trials and tribulations many must face on a daily basis, compared to the pain and agony that a community, a state, a nation is feeling over the senseless loss of life in Newtown, CT, this anniversary is simple.
Here are two poems that I wrote about my mastectomies. The first was written in the weeks prior to surgery, the second was written on last year's anniversary.
Moving me towards
Womanhood
I've carried you
With me
For thirty years
And now I have
To say goodbye
You have covered
Every mile
I’ve ever run
Leading the way
So to speak
And now I have
To say goodbye
At intimate moments
You will be missed
Because now I have
To say goodbye
Has been
Nourishing my
Infant son
Feeding his body
And brain
Connecting us
As only
Mother and child
Can be
But now
I have to
Say goodbye
I didn't always
Accept you
As you are
Self-conscious
As I am
But we were
On good terms
Until cancer
Came along
Now I have
To say goodbye
Goodbye breasts
It is hard not to think about the people of Newtown, CT. They are certainly in my prayers. I am limiting my news time because it is just too disturbing, too unsettling.
I am breaking from my pattern and not choosing just one "S" word today. I am choosing several. I had considered calling the post "A Slew of S Words" but quickly disgarded the idea. Slew not only means "many" but is also the past-tense of slain. Like the innocent victims in Newtown.
Today, December 17, is the fourth anniversary of my third surgery to address my breast cancer--bilateral mastectomies. Here are some "s" words as I mark this anniversary. Surgery.Symmetry.Scars. Sacrifice. Sadness. Smooth sailing. It took time to get to that final phrase of smooth sailing, but I am here. I accept my body as it is, I wear prosthetics when I feel like it, I don't need mammograms. I am healthy and whole in ways I wasn't when my breasts were intact. But I will always remember the day I woke up with breasts and went to sleep that night without them. I will always remember the feeling of a strange vacancy for the first weeks and months after surgery. I will always remember the first look I took at my chest just minutes after waking up from surgery.
But compared to the trials and tribulations many must face on a daily basis, compared to the pain and agony that a community, a state, a nation is feeling over the senseless loss of life in Newtown, CT, this anniversary is simple.
Here are two poems that I wrote about my mastectomies. The first was written in the weeks prior to surgery, the second was written on last year's anniversary.
Goodbye Breasts
You came forth
In my early teens Moving me towards
Womanhood
I've carried you
With me
For thirty years
And now I have
To say goodbye
You have covered
Every mile
I’ve ever run
Leading the way
So to speak
And now I have
To say goodbye
You have brought
Pleasure At intimate moments
You will be missed
Because now I have
To say goodbye
Your greatest
AccomplishmentHas been
Nourishing my
Infant son
Feeding his body
And brain
Connecting us
As only
Mother and child
Can be
But now
I have to
Say goodbye
(Lisa Valentine 12/6/08)
Three Years Ago Today
Three years ago
This morning
I headed to
United Hospital
Prepared to say
Goodbye
To my
Cancerous
Right breast
And its partner
Three years ago
This morning
I wondered
What I
Would feel
Physically
And emotionally
At day’s end
And in the
Months to follow
But this morning
Sweat flowed
Endorphins rose
As I reveled in
The exercise
I can do
My spirit soared
And gratitude
Went off
The charts
As favorite
Songs played
And life
Went on
This morning
No regrets
About my
Decisions
And ample
Appreciation
For the
Healing and
Acceptance
That has
Come since
My breasts
Took their leave
(Lisa Valentine 12/17/11)
Oh, Lisa, that first poem brought tears to my eyes. I'm approaching my three year anniversaries - so many of them - and maybe I'm extra emotional or something. I still miss my breasts. One regret I do have is not taking photographs. Does that sound weird? Also, I don't think I took time to say good-bye to them. Or didn't think of doing that at the time. Your second poem shows your wonderful resolve to carry on. I admire you for always looking for things to be grateful for. Thanks for sharing your terrific poems.
ReplyDeleteNancy,
ReplyDeleteI did have my husband take some "cleavage" photos for posterity sake. But I have only looked at them a couple times in the last four years. Grieving the loss of body parts is like other grief-different for each of us and no required timeline. Nice to hear from you!