My BLOG is a woman’s superlative opinion. I’m not a doctor or psychotherapist– my interpretation of psychological problems surviving breast cancer is simply my personal experience; theoretically could be disputed. It’s personally subjective, not clinical. I know my first-hand experience is only tiny pebbles in a river. Breast cancer survival is more complex than a magazine article or the last doctor visit. Average stats show women around the world fight breast cancer’s stigma for years. Reference to number one, my physical recovery is measured as my breasts scars fade, but number two is vital to get through my recovery as the emotional scars hung on to illusions, causing a torrential river.
Still a whole lotta mumbo-jumbo to me, and pretty boring unless delving into someone’s head is your thing. I admire that, otherwise I would not broach the subject. ‘Psycho’ in relation to sexuality, nightmares, depression and prescriptions’ side effects. It took me a full three years of surgeries to concede I recovered from the psychological distress of breast cancer to call myself cured. It was trial and error, weight on my mind.
Recovery is:
Google’s dictionary
1. return to a normal state of health, mind, or strength.
2. action or process of regaining possession or control of something stolen or lost.
Dr. Robine hit-the-nail-on-the-head. Her non-typical manner always no-nonsense, yet sympathetic. Her insight seemed more life educated too, when she said, “don’t let cancer define you as being just a survivor, but consider your cancer (your illness) or any life changing event to be only a marker in your life to benefit from. You must move on or be stuck unable to be happy again — your independence has suffered a major setback – you’ll get it back”, then leaned into my face and point-blank, sympathetically assured me, “you aren’t there yet.”
Not there yet. I knew it. Within her tone though, was her faith in me. She spurred my self-confidence so I didn’t feel quite so on a psychoville roller-coaster, however my obvious hesitation had spurred anger at my lack of it. I had second-guessed myself, feeling frustrated that my self-image was shot all to hell. That was a new feeling after twenty years of confident rebelliousness. Lately, I was scrambling for a little sense of who I had become since my mastectomy. I hate labels. Her words got me o look beyond myself as a cancer patient, that justified my being perturbed at that label. I had settled and I knew it. A battle still raged within. She saw it. I hadn’t — just sat there. Dumb.
I was, still cope with both references. Pertinent to female physiology and feminine psyche, recuperation from a mastectomy and six surgeries, and recovering after many months of pain , all rendered me a woman incapable of physical intimacy for quite some time. None. No wonder I got depressed and pissy. Prolonged recoup time from treatments deeply affected our propensity to enjoy any sensuality we had had. Well, ouch. Downright pain in my ass is what.
And with my doctor’s insight, I understood my goal then. I hope to enlighten and motivate breast cancer patients to be more than just a survivor — but to thrive. Our recovery needs are different. As an individual, dependent on such professionals and ultimately with God that my psycho needs are met. You must reconcile your own healing, in your own ways.
WOMAN IN RECON 