The Choices I Made After Cancer.

40 years of adventure. And the story continues…

Courtesy of analogicus / pixabay.com

I decided to wait a year to allow my body to heal after having a cancerous breast removed at 28 years old. When the mammogram came back healthy, and the scar was clean, I spoke to my doctor about reconstruction. He gave me the name of a doctor he respected in plastic surgery, and I went for a consultation.

It has been so many years since that visit that I decided to ask Google how reconstruction works after a mastectomy. As I read its answer, I remembered the experience well, and I'll allow Google to simplify how it went.

"After breast cancer surgery, tissue expanders, which are balloon-like devices, are used to stretch the skin and create space for a permanent breast implant. These expanders are placed under the skin or chest muscles and gradually filled with saline (salt water). The fluid is injected into the expander over time, causing the skin to stretch and expand. Once the skin sufficiently stretches, the tissue expander is removed and replaced with a breast implant. It helps create a suitable pocket for the implant, minimizes scarring, and may result in more natural-looking outcomes.”

I had the choice of having a saline implant or silicone. The silicone felt like the real deal compared to the saline and had a shelf life of ten to twelve years, so I chose silicone. Because I was petite, the doctor suggested an implant on the normal side to balance the alignment. You did not have to ask me twice. Being made fun of in my younger years made this a dream come true, and I was 'in'!😄 All went without a hitch, and I enjoyed my new look.

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Fast forward ten years.

One day, I felt a twinge of sorts on my reconstructed side. I didn't feel a heavy pain, but it didn't feel right. I wasn't alarmed but kept an eye on it. A few weeks later, there was a burning sensation in one of the joints in my fingers on the left side. And then it went away. Within a few weeks of these off-and-on feelings, I decided to check in with my doctor, and he suggested a different kind of mammogram for patients who had breast cancer removal to see what was happening with the implant. Sure enough, not only did the implant on my reconstruction side rupture, but on the other side, the implant was depleted.

"When a silicone breast implant has a slow leak because of a rupture, the silicone gel tends to stay within the tissue surrounding the implant, a phenomenon known as a "silent rupture." This means the silicone doesn't migrate out of the breast and into the body but remains within the capsule created by the body around the implant. If a silent rupture is confirmed, prompt implant removal and replacement is generally recommended to prevent further complications." (Google's definition)

After surgery, the Doctor let me know that because of quite a bit of scar tissue, they had to add a bigger implant on both sides. I thought, "Did I die and go to heaven?"😄 …and life moved on.

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In 2018, my husband and I went to Hawaii. Before we left, I decided that after 30+ years of being in remission, it was time to give myself a visual celebration—one that would bring a warm reminder of the strength and courage I went through many moons ago.

At the time, the surface of the reconstructed breast area had a long, simple scar (twice cut into) from the center breastbone across to the armpit that shared the story of healing. The way the area looked never bothered me; there was always a feeling of strength and joy seeing it. I had come so far in this cancer experience, and the appreciation for those doctors and their teams who worked with expertise and kindness over the years to keep me well was evident. I was in my mid-sixties then, still in this world, and honored to be here. It was a time to celebrate.

So, I decided to get a tattoo to decorate the plain area that begged for color, colors of joy, contentment, and peace.

Have I ever considered getting a tattoo? Nope. However, this idea sounded like a wonderful gift I could give to myself and my body. Many of our kids have tattoos, and I love hearing the stories of why people decide to have them done. However, it wasn't something I ever considered…until this thought came to me.

I have always loved the hibiscus flower and have admired butterflies since I was a little girl. Those two designs inspired me to have the symbols of Nature's beauty tattooed on my skin so I could have the visual of them every day.

So, when we went to Hawaii, I found a female tattoo artist whose website displayed whimsical, colorful work. I thought, "Wow, she can take a simple, scarred surface and turn it into a vibrant, joyful display of celebration." I met her the next day, and as I explained what I wanted, she drew it on her scratch pad. A colorful Hawaiian hibiscus design that moved up to the scar with green leaves below and a blue butterfly moving down towards the flower. I was smiling, knowing this was exactly what I had visualized, and she was excited to fulfill my request. The next day, five hours later, that is precisely what I had, and we were both in awe of its beauty.

As the young artist was cleaning up, she mentioned that women who have had double mastectomies and other kinds of medical removals had told her that they always considered a tattoo but were too afraid. She asked if I would allow her to take a photo of only the tattoo and put it on her Instagram site to show women what their reconstruction would look like when enhanced.

I thought about it and said, "Of course, I'd be honored, and I'll do you one better. I will write about how the experience was for me, and how the possibilities could be endless when they've decided to move through their fear and bring peace to it."

The artist teared up and, through her joy, said, "Oh yes, that would be wonderful!" and hugged me gently.

By late afternoon the next day, the story and photo were on her Instagram page, and women were already commenting, loving what they saw and read. As for me, I was grateful to have another venue to help others see how our world changes when we do not allow fear to control us and how it brings a sense of joy to our courage and strength.

"Fear is temporary, but regret lasts forever. ~ Dan Skinner

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It is now June 2025…

After challenging myself during a workout a few months ago, the familiar feeling of a burning sensation under the skin on the left side returned. The implants were many years old, and after an MRI, I wasn't surprised at the results that both had ruptured. It was time, and the doctor I consulted with made me feel that everything would be well.

After all, 27 years is a long time, and modern medicine has also come a long way; I was looking forward to the experience.

I had surgery in the first week of June. The doctor and his staff were skilled, compassionate, humble, and funny—a mix I tend to favor.

I went under anesthesia with a calm feeling that I could let go of everything and enjoy the ride. As I felt sleep win me over, I visualized myself resting on a beach in Hawaii, with the sun's warmth playing between the sand and the small waves tickling my toes. I faintly heard a gentleman ask if I'd like a cool beverage. In my mind's eye, I looked up, and there was the "Rock" (Dwayne Johnson) smiling down at me, and before I could answer, I was asleep. (Drat!😅)

I came out of the sleep realm, hearing a woman's voice saying, "Sweetheart, are you ready to take some deep breaths and wake up? There is a handsome man here waiting to take you home." 😳

It was my husband…phew!🫣

I could feel what felt like elephant feet standing on my chest (ahh, the memories!), and as I gently touched the area, I could feel a tube heavily taped to the middle of my breastbone. As I followed it with my hand, I noticed a beep going on inside a monitor that brought the tube to closure.

As I became more awake, I learned that the tube was for any drainage that may go on during the week ahead, and the monitor was going to be compressing the surgery wounds to help with healing.

Ah…fun!🥳

(Remember: we decide the way we will live the experience, and if I say it'll be fun, damn it, it will be fun!😬)

Honestly, this little contraption was a good teacher for me. It taught me to move slowly and closely observe the location of the tube and the monitor at all times. A few times, the tube wrapped itself around our cabinet handles, and only once did I forget that this apparatus was attached to me.

When I was making a card for one of our grandkids and the buzzer went off to take the sourdough bread out of the oven, I jumped up quickly to step towards the stove. The monitor jerked, fell to the floor, and the tube detached, and for a moment, I was frantic. I took a deep breath and picked up the monitor, which showed that I could easily reconnect the tube. No harm done. Phew!

(Breathe, Terry, breathe😬)

I have come to realize how different my heart and mindset are as I age, particularly in terms of healing, body appreciation, and my perspective on life.

When I first had the mastectomy, I was raising four boys, 11 (twins), 7, and 3 years of age. I didn't have time to focus intensely on my body or practice daily meditations, which would have given my body the inward care it needed. I would wake up each morning, keep the home routine going as best I could, and hoped the body would follow and not set me back. And, as I see it now, the difficulty was tremendous, yet quietly, it did hold me up.

I grew up learning from society and watching the women in home settings that they needed to uphold the family and home no matter what, even if that meant ignoring and pushing aside their difficulties until everyone else was cared for. Back then, all I thought about at the end of the day was getting a good night's sleep so I'd be wide awake, functioning, and ready for whatever the following day brought.

The second time, I was a single parent of the two younger boys, now busy with school and sports, working two jobs and caring for my mom. Again, I could only hope that the healing would stay strong and not falter, as the routine needed to remain in place now more than ever.

One of my jobs involved working with the youth, and I participated in numerous community services and retreats. The foundation of my faith was like a silent Rock of Gibraltar. As I fell asleep at night, exhausted, my prayers were a constant expression of gratitude for the support from my friends and family and our Creator's mighty, loving hands holding me up every step of the way.

This time, the way I see, walk, and interact with life is a dance of honor and respect. This body has worked so hard at housing this human that all her life, she worked and experienced it all from the outside in. Although, writing my life stories over the past three years, I now see that there were moments when my Spirit quietly took the reins and steered me ever so gently, with a sense of knowing which way my heart desired to go for growth and expansion on my journey.

Now, I speak to my body all the time. There was about a month before I had surgery, and as I would start to feel pain or discomfort, I would thank the body for letting me know and would pay more attention to how I moved in yoga, lifted, and moved things. As I prepared for surgery, I explained to her what was going to happen and how I would be with this miracle that we call a body every step of the way.

On the day of surgery, I spent some quiet time in the morning, visualizing how the procedure would go, bringing light to all areas of my body, the skilled team working to improve my health, the operating room, and the relief we would be feeling afterward.

I received three prescriptions a few days before. Two for pain, one very heavy and one light, and one for nausea as needed after anesthesia. I spoke to the pharmacist about the difference between the two pain prescriptions. After he explained, I chose to take the lower ibuprofen dose, and he wouldn't need to make up the other one for me because I didn't need it.

I have always had a high pain tolerance. And, remembering the last three surgeries, I knew I would be fine without it. I also never came out of anesthesia feeling nauseated. Still, I allowed the pharmacist to fill that one because there were only about seven pills, and I was 27 years older, and who knows how my body would react to anesthesia now and, anyway, I would be able to discard them without feeling guilty. As it turned out, I only took one ibuprofen the night after the surgery because the doctor suggested this would be a good idea. And had no more.

There has been some pain and discomfort, but in those moments, I knew they came from the healing going on inside, and when I acknowledged it, the discomfort seemed to move into silence.

I'm not playing the hero here, and if I had excruciating pain, I would've taken something, but the body knows how to heal itself in many ways. It is a gift that we have medical help; I honor this, but I will work with my body and allow it to heal on its own until it cannot.

The bottom line here is that after listening to all the options from the doctor and the pharmacist, I made the final decision, just as I had done when I had the mastectomy. When I take control of my decisions, I feel empowered and confident. The choice is always ours in everything; when we make the decision, the body relaxes, and we are on the same page.

When we take hold of the reins in all the decisions in our lives, the outcome will be ours and ours alone—no one else to blame or thank. Since I've lived like this, I believe that freedom and liberation are a privilege.

These words are on the side of Love, not fear, and I wouldn't want to live any other way.🦋

Thought to ponder:

Was there ever a time you took the reins of your life and listened to your heart instead of others when you needed to make an essential decision for your well-being? If not, this would be a healthy time to question the reason why.

Courtesy of Nghangvu / pixabay.com

Thank you for stopping by and taking the time to read. I appreciate your time and welcome hearing your thoughts about this post. Thank you🌷

©2025 Terry Pottinger