Ellen's visit, and hiding / beautifying our brokenness
I had a lovely time much of the week despite the chemo. My beloved Aunt Ellen was visiting from Berkeley, and we walked and talked and ate and saw friends and lay in the hammock. Ellen has always been a wise and grounding presence in my life; she is a psychotherapist and an artist, and among other things, she introduced me to feminism when I was 13. She encouraged me to "visit" my ceramics studio, which I have hardly been in since the diagnosis. We talked about my next steps on a couple of pieces I've been working on, and she helped me deepen into the question of whether and how I might make something even more special out of a piece that broke in the kiln, by embracing, enhancing, or decorating the crack rather than trying to hide it. This reminded me of a Japanese ceramic tradition, kintsugi, in which broken pottery is repaired with gold lacquer, treating breakage and repair as part of the history of an object, rather than as something to disguise.
This chemo cycle I have (so far) had only one day of feeling fairly ill -- lots of acid reflux -- but managed to do enough with drugs and acupressure and meditation that I got the discomfort at bay and managed to sleep well. In general, partly due to Ellen's encouragement, I have been a little more liberal with my sleeping medication regime, and sleeping more consistently as a result. I was able to attend an important CORE Consultants' Circle on conversations about equity and justice on Friday. As I taper off the steroid the last few days my energy is dropping, but I had a reiki appointment yesterday which helped a lot and had enough energy to do several things I enjoyed, including glazing a sculpture!
I also have been spending a lot of time recently processing the upcoming decision about whether to have lumpectomies or bilateral mastectomies, and whether or not to have reconstructive surgery. This is a pretty intense set of decisions, and I've been grateful to have lots of support, from friends, Ellen, Don, a very good reconstruction surgeon Samuel Poore, the women at Gilda's Club, lots of online information, including photos of lovely tattoos to cover scars, plus some past and upcoming one-to-one conversations with other women who've been through some version of this. I am leaning towards mastectomy without reconstruction -- and even then there will be decisions; will I wear prosthetics and when? If so, how large? Will I tattoo my scars? Etc.
There is so much "stuff" in our culture about body image, gender, and women's breasts, in particular, to wade through on this journey -- or to at least acknowledge and wave to as I go past. I continue to feel grateful for the immense support I have that eases my path. And, in some of my conversations with CORE and my Aunt this week I have continued to compare my relatively privileged experience to those of others who are also grappling with racism or poverty as they traverse similar territory. I read stories online of women who could not afford the reconstructive surgery or even a tattoo (see this inspiring story about a woman who's tattoo was donated!). I see women of color in the waiting room at oncology who have brought their nursing babies or toddlers with them, and wonder, did they have a choice about that? In my daily life I am almost never subjected directly to anti-Semitism, nor overt sexism, nor classism. I am, however, impacted by the cultural expectations about women's bodies. And, I am increasingly aware of the immense number of breast cancer survivors who walk among us every day who appear "normal," at least under their clothing.
Ellen compared what I am going through now to her experience of confronting aging and ageism (which, as my ovaries shut down in response to the chemo, I may begin to encounter more of soon also). As we lay in the hammock together yesterday, we wondered, what would this treatment decision be like in a world where any shape or age of body were equally accepted and respected? And, I wonder, can I make something beautiful out of this brokenness?
Comments (16)
You just did make something beautiful put of what some perceive as broken. My gratitude for sharing.
Dear Becca, You are making something beautiful and meaningful out of this brokenness, for yourself and for others. The issues you consider, the sensitivities to others, the candidness and depth you share with us is a valuable lesson to me. " Rabbi " Becca, may you find the right answers for you, may you be peaceful and well. With love and caring, Bilha
Thanks, and you're welcome! And here is a link Don sent to a related story: http://thepeacefulblogster.blogspot.com/2004/10/story-by-rachel-naomi-remen.html
Oh Becca, i am so incredibly moved by your insights and brave heart. Bless you and much gratitude for all that you bring to your living and loving. We are here for you as you walk this path
I spoke of Kintsugi in a Lenten sermon I delivered. I love that concept. I hate what has brought all these reflections on pain, loss, healing, beauty, wholeness and truth. But I love that you share them
Dear Becca, My sister, in her late 50s, made the decision to do reconstructive surgery on the breast that was left smaller by her partial mastectomy twenty years ago. She is very glad she got it, but waited a long time until this expense rose to the top of the priority list. I'm glad as at least parts of our society move toward rejoicing in each person's uniqueness/imperfections/"brokenness," etc. And I'm so happy you raised the spectra of all those folks (perhaps women especially ?), for whom access to even basic medical care, let alone reike, acupuncture, a warm and supportive circle of friends/family, spiritual connections, choices about taking off from work, etc., are not even on the horizon. Have you been following the ongoing publishings of the Sister Study? The researchers had the vision, many years ago, to include in their (extensive) samples, a specific percent of women in various ethnic/racial categories -- how often do we see that? Stepping down from my soapbox, once again I am grateful for the breadth and depth of your journaling, and your willingness to open your journey to all of us!
Dear Becca, your journal is an inspiring gift to so many in so many ways. Yes, beauty and meaning out of cracks shared with all of us who are cracked .
Becca, I have not been on your blog for quite some time and I found today's entry especially profound. Your words are just beautiful. I especially appreciate 'beautifying our brokenness.' This reminds me of when I found out my back was collapsing into scoliosis. I have many many art projects representing my spinal collapse and remember reading about kintsugi. It took me a long time to be able to embrace the brokenness and accentuate it as part of my uniqueness and my beauty. You are amazingly beautiful in every thought, word, and action. Thank you for letting me be part of this healing journey and reminding me that many of us walk the same path.
Becca, I have not been on your blog for quite some time and I found today's entry especially profound. Your words are just beautiful. I especially appreciate 'beautifying our brokenness.' This reminds me of when I found out my back was collapsing into scoliosis. I have many many art projects representing my spinal collapse and remember reading about kintsugi. It took me a long time to be able to embrace the brokenness and accentuate it as part of my uniqueness and my beauty. You are amazingly beautiful in every thought, word, and action. Thank you for letting me be part of this healing journey and reminding me that many of us walk the same path.
Dear Becca, What an absolutely lovely and insightful share.
thinking of you
The tattos are creative and courageous. It reflects our need for self esteem. Thanks for sharing the link.
Once again, I don't have much to say, but I wish there was a "like" button. Thinking of you all the time.
Becca, I am so glad that you have such a wise a lovely Aunt as Ellen in your life! What a treasure in your relationship together. I've been thinking about how we are perceived from what you shared. I've often thought about my fun in putting together an outfit for the day and how once I am wearing it I no longer see it but that it becomes something for others to enjoy or not as is their inclination. Becca, when I think of your physicality I think immediately of your beautiful smile of warmth and your joyous one of total openness. I think of your eyes when they soften and really take me in. I think of your wonderful hugs. I think of your words of such wisdom and heart-fulness. I think of how your actions in the world come from those words. I admit that I also think of your beautiful hair, which will, of course, return again at some time. And then I think of what you have shared about your inward journey with this illness and how much is focused on your relationship with your breasts; yet, how little that aspect of your physicality has to do with how I relate to your physicality....and, I imagine this to be the case with many, many others who also love you and work with you and respect you so very much. There is just so much more to you that it is hard to think of your identity in the way that you are called to at this time. I so admire what you have shared of your journey with us and am so grateful that you are willing to share it in this way. You are bringing me along on your journey and encouraging my awareness to grow and to ponder. As I said, I am grateful. Thank you! Hugs and love, Celeste
Dear Becca, I too, especially loved this entry--for its words and for its spirit. You *are* making beauty from brokenness. Thank you so much for allowing me to accompany you, however, partially, on your journey. Sending loving and healing thoughts, Sonia
Dear Becca, Thank you for being with the both/ands of life and the journey, while sharing it through this blog. I appreciate how you are living with the complete embodied experience of having cancer while acknowledging your privilege with grace, presence and openness. Perhaps brokeness is only broken when seen in certain contexts - in others it is pure, raw, alive, messy, genuine beauty. And, being with this seeming contradiction - as you are living - is true beauty in itself.... Sending you lots and lots of love. Love, Catherine