During my first few weeks of recovery from surgery, my family visited me. My sister flew in a couple days before my mastectomy and stayed for a week. She overlapped by a day with my parents, who stayed in a hotel near my home for almost a week and a half.
By the end of my parents’ last visit with me, my mom raised the topic of how people didn’t know how to talk to me. That is why some of them hadn’t said anything to me about my breast cancer diagnosis.
For context, this is an issue that came up quite a bit after I was initially diagnosed. My sister asked what she could share. A few cousins asked what they could share. Somehow other members of my extended family aren’t sure what they can or cannot say about my diagnosis to others.
Some relatives wanted to share my story with others, and other relatives were saying that they shouldn’t. I heard this from a few different sources in my family.
My mom said that some relatives told others to “just pray” for me—or at least that’s the story in this never-ending game of telephone.
Image from Flickr
I haven’t written here in two weeks. In case you were wondering why, it’s because I got a mastectomy a couple days after my last post. I’ve been adjusting and readjusting to my new body.
If you regularly meditate or do yoga, you’re likely familiar with the concept of the mind-body connection. Well, my mind-body connection is so thrown off. My mind and body are confused. This week, a social worker at my hospital told me that this feeling is normal. She said my mind and body are working to reintegrate their connection to each other.
Prior to my mastectomy, I was so scared of how I would feel when I woke up without one breast after the operation.
After my operation, I woke up with a nurse beside my bed in the recovery room. After a few minutes (or what seemed like a few minutes) of her asking me how I felt, another woman pulled open the curtain around my bed and walked in. This new woman introduced herself as a chaplain of the hospital.
“You’re Regina?” I asked. Yes, she was surprised that I knew her name. I explained that another chaplain had referred me to her and told me to expect a visit after surgery.
Regina asked how I was, and unexpectedly I had a lot to say. My throat hurt from whatever tubes the doctors had put down my throat, but I recall a lot of word vomit. Since it was my first time meeting Regina, I recounted the events of my discovering the lump in my breast, steps I took in my medical care, and the shock I was feeling post-operation. I was surprised how much I had to say. I was feeling light-headed and/or dizzy from anesthetics and medication (and continued to feel that way over the next couple days), but that didn’t stop me from being talkative. I think I was word vomiting because I needed some way of immediately processing everything.
“If you don’t like what is being said, change the conversation,” stated Don Draper in Mad Men.
Is Don Draper a person I would want to be my mentor in real life? No way. Do I agree with his statement? Absolutely.
From December 31, 2019, to January 1, 2020, I saw lots of social media posts from friends, colleagues, and acquaintances celebrating their life’s journey from the past year or the past decade as they were ringing in the new year.
That’s cool, but I know many of you off of social media. I’m aware of how you have to edit to make your life’s journey sound more palatable for us on your online networks. As someone who does career advising for a living, I tell students and alumni to be mindful of how they present themselves on social media and in public in general. If anything, you’re following my general advice.