I finally have a direction in which to point the finger of blame over the cancer diagnosis. My mother was given a drug when she was pregnant with me that was/is a synthetic estrogen and endocrine disruptor. It caused/can cause clear cell adenocarcinoma, along with other various types of cancer.
DES. Diethylstilbestrol.
Does cancer start in the womb? Breast cancer risk at age 40 and older is two and a half times higher in DES exposed women than women who were not exposed who are the same age.
Maternal DES exposure during pregnancy causes an increased risk to both the mother and their DES exposed daughters. (Given the fact that males can also get (male) breast cancer, I have to wonder, how many of them were DES exposed in utero?)
DES and Bisphenol A are estrogen-like endocrine disruptors. Exposure in utero alters a tissue expression of something called EZH2, which is associated with tumorigenesis.
Invasive in ductal HER2+ breast cancer is what I had. In this information, numbers are broken down to give more insight into exposed versus unexposed numbers.
Mayo Clinic led team identifies Master Switch for cancer causing HER2 protein. A mutant protein would be used for this. Of course, I find this of particular interest since I had HER2+ breast cancer.
Just wanted to share that with you readers out there in case someone was needing some further research information while I work on packing for The Big Move.
(And if you're so inclined, please go check out the Bressante Kickstarter page. It's a very worthy project to help women like me acquire custom made foobs (fake breast prostethics) to wear. After the crap those of us breast cancer people go through, we should have these available to us, so this is a great invention that I'm hoping will gain some much deserved and much needed attention. Thank you.)
(Actually, I've sat on this post just to make certain I was being objective about my perspective.)
Since I was attempting to catch up on fakebook this afternoon, I was scrolling along quickly in between doing a bunch of stuff today. I found a meme which made me angrivated in an angrivated way that only others like me would understand. Basically, it's yet another meme circulating about breast cancer with a very false claim about how if humans stop using toxins, then breast cancer would be prevented. (Note: WOULD BE was implied as if it was set in stone in would be prevented for any and all diagnosed, implying that no use of toxins will keep anyone from being diagnosed. There was no acknowledgement of the fact that men can be diagnosed with breast cancer also, which was another thing I found disturbing.)
So, I did what those of me do. I sent a comment about what I saw and why I believed it to be putting out incorrect information. (And this particular meme was from a group that is supposedly about "breast health," which makes it even more appallingly sad they're putting out incorrect information.)
I attempted to be polite, convey civility without being condescending, and didn't drop the F bomb. (I know, right? Wtf?!)
Here's what I sent:
This picture meme is misleading because it's not known what causes all the different kinds of breast cancer there actually is. People who have lived "perfectly" have still wound up with one or another form breast cancer. Men can get breast cancer, you certainly aren't acknowledging that.
And before you get pissy with me about my comments, I've had breast cancer and I did everything "right" and still wound up with it. It doesn't discriminate between yoginis who are hardcore vegans and breastfed or women who breastfed and ate the occasional burger or women who were raised on farms or in cities or who are in their twenties or in their eighties or used makeup or didn't use makeup, women who had a genetic pre-disposition to it from a family history or women who have no family history of it at all. Cancer does not discriminate.
Regarding breast cancer, another lie is that early detection saves lives. It does not. Women who are diagnosed at grade zero, stage zero can go stage 4/mets at any time and eventually die from whatever form of breast cancer there is, just like some women diagnosed as stage 4 can survive for a few years, and some won't. Breast cancer STILL kills. People diagnosed, and I say people, because both men and women can wind up with breast cancer, can still wind up with mets/stage 4, even though they did everything "right," according to their doctors or did everything their doctors told them to do. Cancer happens and it's a shit storm.
Where's your meme telling people this sort of thing about kids who wind up with cancer? Are you going to imply their parents weren't responsible enough with one thing or another and that's why their child wound up with that vile disease?
You probably won't take it down or alter it, but at least I said something. There are tons of people out there like me who are attempting to educate others about the gross misconceptions about cancer. Toxic chemicals in any form are a bad idea--for anyone. But to say protecting the earth from them prevents diseases like breast cancer is flat out not true.
Thanks for your time.
Of course I felt as if the reply given to me was standard response fodder, but at least someone did read my comments.
I've been chosen to participate in a really cool thing. Bressante makes custom foob forms and amazingly enough, I was chosen to receive a pair. This could be interesting, people. They definitely appear to be an improvement over the old kinds on the market. Here's information about Wendy's Kickstarter page. She's doing this to help people like me.
Building a Better Prosthesis That dot in the center of the U.S. you see on the map? That's me. I'm hoping that the funding will come through from kind souls who believe this is a project worth contributing to.
There's a few links I'm going to share to some posts/articles related to various cancer related shit since cancer is a shit storm.
Want Attention? Just Say Breast Cancer. (This is a lovely commentary about the ribbon versus ribbon stuff that seems to now be going on. Thanks ever sofa king much, Big Name Pink Ribbon Foundation for being divisive instead of helpful, since ALL cancers can and do kill people.)
Something I Can Use (More cancer patients versus cancer patients commentary, communicating about what cancer patients really need, and included in this are some thought provoking statements about head shaving.)
Cancer Charities Scammed Millions of Consumers (Yes, it can and does happen, people. Please think before you pink, or pay attention to where you're donating. There is no fucking way I'd donate anything to the Big Name Pink Ribbon Foundation or The Other Big Name Cancer Society. Neither have ever done ANYTHING for anyone I've encountered who's had to deal with cancer. They sure as fuck won't get anything from me. Am I saying not to donate? Nope, not at all. I'm just encouraging you readers out there in HorseDoovers Land to check around, ask questions, do a bit of research first, and then donate.)
Living With Cancer; Patients On Our Own written by Susan Gubar says "At one point or another during and after radiation and chemotherapy, the women in my support group have needed physiological, psychological, dietary, cognitive, sexual, child-raising, financial, or housekeeping guidance that none of us received. Of course we address these matters among ourselves, but why don't cancer centers provide professionals to advise us? If nothing else, such supplementary counseling would give cancer patients the boost of knowing that we are doing what we can to help us cope with difficult circumstances." (I have a comment or two about that wonderfully put paragraph. It's because it's all about money and nobody but others like us really give a fuck about our functionality and quality of life once it's fucked up from the shit storm that cancer is.)
My Life on Xeloda Commentary about why is treatment still so primitive? This was an outfuckingstanding read.
Not Long and Beautiful Interesting thoughts on losing hair and breasts.
Living With Stage Four The breast cancer nobody understands.
And because I always want to share options I've found for those of you who want foobs, here's a couple of links.
Super Gel Breast Forms These look like they could be interesting, maybe more comfortable than the old silicone foobs which are pawned off on so many of us as replacement foobs. Eventually, I would like to try a pair and then share my thoughts on them here for you people who are interested.
BC (before cancer), I was happy with my body. Sure, I was shaped like a mom, but I had a definitively feminine shape. I looked girly. I had D/DD breasts, contingent upon the bra and fit of said bra, but overall, I had no complaints. Sure, I'd have been happy to lose ten or fifteen pounds, my logic was if the husband had no complaints, then I didn't either.
AD (after diagnosis) and six months of chemo, I went to sleep in a hospital and magically woke up ten to twelve pounds lighter without breasts. I liked my breasts. I had no complaints about them. They had functioned fabulously well with feeding the three monkeys when they were babies.
And yet one of them betrayed me and tried to kill me. (A breast, not a monkey.)
Cancer fucking shattered me. There's no other word for it. Shattered. Mentally, emotionally, physically. It's such a mind fuck. I had to learn there was still a shard of me in here somewhere.
I read of people who are flatties or unis (Uniboobers, you know, single mastectomy people.) who are wrestling mentally with to wear or not to wear foobs (fake or faux boobs) or physically by actually wearing said foobs and trying to keep them in place.
Do what's comfortable for you. The first year after my bilateral mastectomy, I felt like a deformed freak. I fucking hated how I looked. Fucking. Hated. As in, yes, fucking hated.
The next year, I wound up acquiring foobs because an oncologist finally gave a damn and gave me a prescription for mastectomy bras and forms. Then I had the humiliating experience of going to get fitted for said stuff. Don't get me wrong, the fitter was absolutely amazing, an incredibly kind woman who was very patient with me while I sat there terrified of her, shaking and afraid to speak because I was so afraid of anything medical related. She managed to get me outfitted with what I needed, plus some sleeves for lymphedema.
I tried wearing my faux bra and foobs a few times. They were just not all that comfortable, even though they were fitted properly. You're probably thinking if they were fitted properly, there shouldn't have been a pain issue. Well, with the fucked up nerve damage from what was done to me surgically and the vile chemo, and the scar tissue, things just seemed to hit in all the wrong places. Then there's the whole issue of the fact that I'm concave on my upper chest, both sides. The foob forms are concave. In spite of the pockets in the mastectomy bra, there is unfilled space there. They don't stay in place. That's all there is to it.
So, I gave up after a few attempts to wear them. Then I tried again a few more times. Overly perky, properly shaped foobs screamed "FAKE!FAKE!FAKE!BOOBS!" and at my age, I don't need something that looks like I have the breasts of a twenty-four year old woman. Mentally, it made me feel strange to know that those pieces parts of me did NOT match the rest of me. I gave up, placed the foobs back into their boxes where they live and the bras are in a drawer which I rarely open because I don't need what's in there.
My attitude was I don't give a fuck if someone looks at me or not. It became an adventure going out and not caring what other people thought. I went down that road with the bald head--I didn't give a fuck what other people thought or even said. Well, if I could apply that don't give a fuck attitude with my lack of feminine shape, then I was going to go with that, and so I did.
I started wearing what I wanted when I wanted and I didn't and still don't care what people think and I do so in a confident manner.
People, breastless and unis, OWN IT! If you feel like you can go out and about without the hassle of foobs or a foob, and you mentally wrap your brain around that you CAN do this, you fucking do it and be proud! To hell with anyone else who doesn't like it. This is 2015, not 1915 where someone might be upset if you aren't shaped like everyone else.
(Of course as I'm working on this post, someone in a group got rather pissy about what I said about not giving a fuck about what other people think--or that's how it came across--and she said some people do care how they look.)
My perspective is this. If that works for you, fine. I've never been one to go along with what everyone else was doing, so this is my way of saying "Fuck off." to society.
I have owned my flatness and am so confident with it that people don't even notice I'm a flattie. And that is what my blog post is about.
Owning it.
When you own it, people perceive confidence and breasts, or a lack thereof or one or two, aren't even an issue. (Were breasts an issue before one or both of them were cut off? Of course not! People didn't give a fuck. They likely noticed you for being you, not your breasts!)
Do I hate how I look? Sure. I don't have a feminine shape, so I don't feel as girly, if that makes sense. I have twenty five pounds of steroid weight from being allergic to the chemo that won't go anywhere and I fucking hate it. I'm genuinely shaped like a pear. Seriously. I don't even know what size I wear on top because I wear tee shirts, and on bottom, I'm a size fourteen, disproportionately shaped now because of having no breasts. ZOMFG! There, I said it--now you know what size I am.
You know what? It doesn't matter. What matters is I learned I could develop confidence gradually by realizing that nobody noticed. Nobody noticed when I had breasts. Nobody notices now, unless the actual subject of breast cancer comes up.
Maybe this will help someone out there reading who has been dealing with the shit cancer hands people.
What helped me find that second shard of me was Firework by Katy Perry because it's such an awesome song. What helped me find another piece of me was learning the lyrics. And then singing along a little bit. And then singing a little bit more.
And a bit more until now, I crank that song and fucking belt it out, never mind the fact that I can't sing. Unexplicably, that song did help me gain some confidence about myself again, believe it or not. Maybe it will help you. And if you're having a particularly shitty day, please give it a listen, it might help you perk up a bit.
But for now, please go listen to it and maybe realize you can feel a little more comfortable without foobs and get a little confidence back like I did.
<3
