Dreaming of small breasts, and of Mom
Last night before going to sleep, Don and I were talking about the surgery decision. We reflected on how having longer to think about it (because I’m having chemo first, and decided to delay the decision) has made us both more open to options other than mastectomy. Partly, this is due to the distance in time from the initial diagnostic biopsy stage, which was pretty traumatic and temporarily disabling. Though chemo is unpleasant and longer, it honestly doesn’t feel as bad as that felt. As it was happening and immediately afterwards, I felt like I definitely didn’t want to have to keep going through repeated mammograms, MRIs, and follow-up biopsies every time they find something suspicious, many of which would turn out to be non-cancerous. As the memory of the pain and fear recedes, it is a little easier to consider keeping breast tissue and being subject to some of that in the future.
Also, I think, the longer time period has allowed my initial bravado to wear off a little. At first, seeing my future self as flat-chested, perhaps scarred, perhaps tattooed, had a certain appeal – and sometimes it still does. It appeals to my inner Tomboy, and to the part of me that feels like my breasts get in the way at times, and to the part of me that admires people who are “wounded healers.” But I’ve begun to wonder whether I am romanticizing that image, and I know from experience that imagining a thing is always different from experiencing it. In fact, when I stop to notice how the image of myself flat-chested and tattooed appears, it is out in front of me. Over time I have begun to try to imagine, kinesthetically, what it will (would?) feel like to have no breasts. (E.g. while swimming… how will it change my buoyancy?!) My breasts have never been an intense or direct source of pleasure for me, but I do like feeling my husband’s chest against mine, or his head on my breast, and it is hard to know for sure how much of a difference they make in subtle ways to our experience of love and intimacy. The longer we have to ask that question, and pay attention, the more we notice.
Lumpectomy with breast reduction is the new alternative we recently heard about from our surgeon, and we are considering it. Although it is hard for me to admit it, there is a certain appeal to the idea of having, smaller, cosmetically adjusted breasts. If you know me well you know that I have a strong critique of sexism in general and the cosmetic/beauty industry in specific. I have always considered myself to be one of the last women on earth to choose cosmetic surgery on its own merits. And I’m not entirely on board with the whole transgender surgery thing because I feel that if gender roles weren’t so harshly reinforced in our society, people would not feel the need to be reassigned through medical intervention when they don’t fit into the neat boxes of “masculine” or “feminine.” (And, I know there is a lot I don’t yet know or understand about the trans experience, so please don’t hold me to that position).
Supposedly, however, there are medical reasons that breast reduction after lumpectomy is considered a good option for some women (there’s even a name for the discipline, “oncoplasty.”) We’re scheduled to meet with the plastic surgeon to learn more about it on Monday. From my reading so far, the medical reasons include 1) that in lumpectomy, the oncology surgeon can take a larger amount of tissue and thus be more sure of getting clean margins, and 2) the resulting smaller breast requires a lower dose of radiation to penetrate the tissue, perhaps leading to fewer side effects (this one I want to ask the doctors about, because I’m not sure I believe it). Still, there is a lot of talk about symmetry being the reason oncoplasty was developed (to make the non-cancerous breast match the lumpectomy one), which makes me skeptical that it’s really motivated medically. (Okay, so I am a sculptor, and I appreciate symmetry, and beauty. I’m just wary of things we feel we have to do to ourselves in order to be lovable – and of whole industries built around manipulating those feelings).
Cute, perky breasts…?! Me? Ones that I can actually feel, made out of my own breast tissue, rather than being artificial? Well, that’d be nice! I’m still not sure whether I feel they’re worth the extra years of painful screening, inevitable biopsies, and somewhat higher likelihood of additional cancer, i.e. the worry about and possibility of going through all of this again.
After a conversation about this last night, as we were turning out the lights, I wondered aloud, what would my mom think? She died suddenly in July of 2006, and I’ve been thinking about her more around the anniversary of her death. Don said, you can probably figure out what she would say if you think about it. That’s true. She loved me unconditionally, but did strongly prefer that I conform to gender norms (she was disgusted about my unshaved legs and armpits during those periods of my life, and worried I would never catch a good man in that condition). She also was very tempted by cosmetic surgery when she saw other women in her circles do it, which I was very judgmental of at the time. However, during another big decision point in my life, when I’d fallen in love with Don and was contemplating marrying him even though I knew it might mean I didn’t have a child of my own, she said to me, “You, more than most people I know, are capable of being happy whichever way you choose.” This helped me a lot at the time, and it applies now.
However, as I was going to sleep, I thought, maybe my new dream catcher will catch a dream of my mom for me. (The dream catcher was a gift from Bert & Linda, and hangs on my headboard above my bed). And, I did indeed dream of her! We were moving, or I was helping her pack house to move. The movers were coming very soon but we were just starting to pack. My mom was not worried about this, which is highly unusual for her (she worried a lot about a lot of things!). I wondered aloud to someone else whether the movers had been hired to pack everything for us, but we didn't know. My memory of what we did pack was vague because the dream was earlier in the night, and later dreams were more vivid when I awoke (including one with a flying Medusa character...). I do remember there were lots of cabinets full of stuff. I think I remember some candlesticks, and some craft supplies (specifically a small paintbrush). Later in the dream at the new place we had moved to, someone was moving into their room and I told them “we have plenty of extra storage space if you want to leave some things in boxes and put them there.” So, apparently, we didn’t take everything with us.
My guess at an interpretation so far (your ideas are welcome) is that all I need for the future is my spirituality and my creativity. And, that I don’t need to worry.
Comments (11)
Ahhhh, our mothers never really leave us. Unpacked boxes are a great metaphor for many of us.
Becca, I love this dream with your mom and your interpretation of it. It sounds like spaciousness is coming. And as a person who worries a lot herself, I can concur with the 'no need to worry' piece. Unless there is something I can do about the topic I'm worrying about - some new action I can take immediately - the worry only accomplishes one thing, draining my energy. Big Hugs to you and wishes for more dreams of/with your Mom, Kathy
That sounds like a painfully difficult decision to make. You are so right about the fact that thinking about things ahead of time is always different from the way the actually feel when you live them. To the extent that social sci has any good news on this, it is that people usually end up being ok with, or even pleased with, the choice they make - regardless of what that choice was. But I suspect that doesn't help you much at the moment.
What an amazing post. So raw, so clear, so methodical while lyrical. I am with you fully on the gender thing, the use of surgical interventions to manipulate sense of self and also on heroism versus just ever day life. A big YES to freedom from worry, to being endlessly creative and courageously finding spirit in all things. Your mother is proud of you.
I'm so literal. I was thinking "leaving some things in boxes" meant leaving some breast tissue in place -- i.e., lumpectomy with breast reduction! I like your more metaphorical interpretation better. xoxoxox
Hi, Becca, I have never studied dream interpretation, so this is just what hit an amateur. Also, I think that the person having the dream can probably make the most sense of it. the theme that "there's room for more" seems like something to consider --what transpired at the end of the dream. I would suggest you ponder that some more.... Also this might be the time to call that friend of mine. Her matter of fact straight talk is much like yours. Thank you for the link to what trans people may go through in contemplating surgery. I can certainly see some parallels that had never occurred to me. I k m own there are different styles of decision making. In this situation you have the opportunity to mull over what to do. Some people might not be able to live with the question, but I'm glad that works for you!
Almost being on the full other side of reconstruction I want you to know that our resilient spirit helps us adjust to anything. Why I say "almost", I cannot yet say I am fully familiar yet with my new breast. I was unable to imagine what life after reconstruction looked like. I wonder if the implications of the procedure had fully soaked in in those early decision days if I would have gone another route. Still I believe that you consider what is important to you, what makes the most sense from your side of the mountain, then decide and then start trekking. Any trek will be arduous at moments. And typically it seems a longer trek than you originally anticipated. Keeping on is the best way to keep on. Once on the other side I am appreciating my choices I made with less vision and look out over the horizon and see the abundance of life ahead. The shadow of the mountain in the valley cannot reflect what it feels like to climb to the top and get to the otherside. May you be joyful about the decision you land on.
Becca, My niece had liposuction for breast reduction instead of surgery. Don't know if this applies or is even an option for your situation. Just wanted to pass this on. The dream made me think of being spacious, having spaciousness, plenty of room! Hugs, Gail Michelle
dear Becca, dreaming your breasts... I wish there were an obvious right answer but as you know there isn't. I have friends who had lumpectomies and are doing fine many years later, and other friends who've had mastectomies who aren't so fine. I trust your knowing and living into the path that is yours, o gorgeous creative spiritual joyful mud-slinger. I'm grateful that you have the time to sit with your dream body, with your mother and Don and beloved community. I'd be happy and honored to sit in virtual meditative circle with you and anyone you like if that would be of service to your listening. Hugs and kisses, sweetie.
Wow. So, so much for you to think about. Sleep does not always "knit up the raveled sleeve of care." Your brain is considering so many things even when not fully conscious. You of all people will be happy with whatever decision you make. Your mom knew and it was sweet of her to say that to you. She is speaking to you now and your sweet Don loves you for who you are. As always, thank you for your sharing.
Big YES to the last two sentences! And even so, a decision awaits. . . How to make a bridge from the realm of the creative spiritual energy that is the source of life with the realm of the manifest, everyday "reality"? I like the trust that says no matter what the decision, it will be another opportunity to live and love and learn, so really there is nothing to worry about. The beauty is in how you continue to dance with this experience -- with your spirit and your creativity leading the way. No "wrong" choice here. Even if there are outcomes down the road that you would prefer not to experience, that still will not mean you made a "wrong" choice. It only means there are experiences that you would prefer not to have. No way to know whether a different choice would have led to a different outcome, because it's all just likelihoods, no certainties. Therefore, NO BLAME! I enjoy the openness with which you are exploring the different facets of this decision -- the medical part ("facts"), the socio-political, cultural part (what do breasts and bodies signify?!), the intimate and personal part (desire, connection, love), the relational part (is your body your body or is your body yours and Don's? or both)? At least these are the ways I am receiving/interpreting your sharing. My vote is to keep listening for guidance from body, heart, mind, spirit, loved ones, and doctors. Then do some consensus building and decision-making process as if you were heading up a community organization that had lots of different constituencies and points of view (you know how to do this!), go for it, and be super compassionate all the way through. I can imagine it might be helpful to empathize with the needs/values/longings behind the different strategies available to you -- to really feel into those deeper layers -- and to make space for grieving/mourning/celebrating the needs that you may not be able to access or nourish as readily as others. Whatever happens, to trust that your decision is the one that makes sense given the internal and external information available to you at this time. Wishing you clarity and peace in this process!