I (obviously) failed at my attempt to be clever for this blog title, but it does a good job about conveying the subject matter of this post.

Since joining the DIEP support group on Facebook, I have received a few personal messages asking about things I kind of covered here previously that deserve a little more discussion.  I received a couple of direct messages inquiring what my husband thought about my process and, more specifically, my Noobs.  I’ve been asked this a couple of times and have, somewhat ignorantly, answered for Mike (my husband, who also has a blog).  I’ve said, “He was great about the whole thing.  He was supportive of my decision to do the BPM and go forward with the DIEP reconstruction.  He helped care for me during my recovery and was terrific the whole way through.”

But, after receiving another message asking the same last night and responding the same, I received this question in reply:

“But how does he think you look?”

In all honesty, my husband (fortunately) tells me very frequently that he thinks I look great.  And, to continue on the path of honesty, I sometimes feel like he says it to help buoy my spirits and keep my confidence up.  And not have me scratch his eyes out.  But I think the criticisms Mike might have about my body have nothing to do with my surgeries.  I think the real adjustment came when we had twins and the aftermath of me gaining (and then losing) 70 lbs.  I have assumed, over these past 18 months, that he sees my post-op, nude body the same way that I see it; in the dark and somewhat intoxicated.  JUST KIDDING.  I asked Mike to contribute a post to my little blog and give some spousal, but also community, perspective for those wondering the same.  Without any further adieu, I give you my husband…but only for the period of time it takes you to read his post:

My wife Shera asked me to explain how I see/view her body/breasts/scars after surgery.  Here are my unfiltered/unedited thoughts:

Addressing the BRCA issue by removing breast tissue was courageous and smart.  

Shera spent an enormous amount of time researching her reconstruction options.  She formulate a game plan that she was comfortable with and worked well for her.  She was fortunate to have supportive and very skilled doctors.

Having the potentially dangerous breast tissue removed was the first leg of the trip. Reconstruction completed the journey.  
Shera looks great. Probably better than she did before the surgery.  On some levels it seems like that’s all there is to say.  But that’s only about 10% of the story.

The scar on Shera’s stomach is massive.  It must be a foot-long. But that’s not a good measure of its significance.  What defines its significance–and what has helped me assess/understand my relationship with Shera–is that I don’t notice it.  
 
When I see her with her stomach exposed, I see a person. I don’t see the scar.  That’s not a figure of speech. I literally don’t see it.
 
It’s like I don’t have the visual vocabulary for it.  Without a word in that visual vocabulary there’s no place to store the image.  (Interestingly, I just saw a story about a variant of this concept in the NYT.  “There is no word for cancer in most Ugandan languages. A woman finds a lump in her breast, and cancer doesn’t cross her mind. It’s not in her vocabulary.”)
 
The takeaway for me from the whole reconstruction process and result is a better understanding about what my wife means to me and how I “see” her.  
 
Her breasts are full.  Her stomach is flat.  That may have been the goal.  But I think the best part–at least from my perspective–is the wonderful realization that our relationship has evolved significantly beyond cosmetics.  
 
At this point I’m confident that she’ll look as beautiful to me at 76 as she did at 26.  Maybe more so.  
 
“Happy wife, happy life.”    Shera is very involved in BRCA and breast reconstruction issues.  The experience has been a springboard to the future rather than an anchor to the past.  Based on my experience it’s important for husbands that their wives “complete the journey” so that they can look forward rather than back and live rich, full lives.  
Image

Mike and me in 2007 (when our only babies were felines).

Dreamy, right?

*Also, since October is Breast Cancer Awareness month, I wanted to have a post from a survivor with a different perspective on reconstruction. My sister, Alyssa, is going to put together a small (but fantastic, I’m sure!) post about her process and why she chose not to have reconstruction.  Stay tuned for that, hopefully later this week.

And now, the song that I chose for mine and Mike’s walk down the aisle…