Boobie Funeral and the Birth of Health

It's done. The decision is made, I called the doctor's office, they called back, and the date is set. I will have a unilateral left mastectomy with immediate implant reconstruction at 7:30am on Tuesday, May 14.

Whew.

Today has been an interesting emotional cocktail of relief, nausea, anxiety, calm, and focus. (I wish it tasted more like the Fresca, cranberry and vodka cocktail my friend made me last night... Thanks Jenny!) When I called my mom, she said, "I hear anxiety in your voice." Why wouldn't you? I said. It doesn't matter when this happens; the fact is I'm going to go to sleep that morning and wake up without a boob. (This struck my mom as funny, which I guess it sort of is, when you phrase it that way!) But I'm trying to focus less on the Date of Doom, and more on the things that need to get done before that. Now I can do what I do best: PLAN. I immediately wrote emails to my church councils, my bishop, the other families in church who are affected (like those of the girls I was supposed to confirm on May 19, Pentecost), etc. Now we can line up supply preachers, and set meetings as needed. Personally, I can prepare myself. I got a book someone recommended called The Breast Reconstruction Guidebook. Among other things, it gives you a list of things you should do four weeks before, two weeks before, the week of, the night before, the day of. Already I missed the four week mark, so I'm starting now on those things. They include making sure I eat healthy food (so much for the pizza last night...), get plenty of exercise, etc. So last night instead of driving the mile and a half to my friend's house, I put on my running shoes and ran there. Today I dragged Klaus on a run (he was unimpressed; hence it was a short run). I almost put him in the house and kept running - suddenly I have all this energy! Other things I have to look forward to on the list include: pamper myself with a manicure/pedicure, consider waxing my armpits and legs because I won't be able to shave for a few weeks after surgery (would not have thought of that!), buy clothing that buttons in the front because I won't be able to lift my arms... It's a very practical guide.

I told my council and staff in my email that they should ask me to do anything they want, because busy work is my friend right now. It gives me something to do, to take my attention from the inevitable. (I also added that they should ask much but actually expect little from me!) That is what I'm doing right now. This is my current coping mechanism. Eventually I'll get to the more emotional piece - I already have gone through a lot of that. For now, it is very therapeutic to be able to plan stuff.

One thing I want to plan is a Boobie Funeral. Lefty needs a proper goodbye. Even though we're not parting ways on very good terms, I don't want our last words to be angry words. I was likening this today to a bad break-up I had a few years back. Even though I knew the guy needed to go, I was so enmeshed with him when we finally broke up that even though it was I who made the final decision to break up, I was absolutely devastated. Even as I hated the guy's guts, I also was still desperately in love with him, and felt very attached. I knew he had to go - that I had to cut him out of my life, if you will - but I couldn't bear the thought of it. I'm having very similar feelings about Ol' Lefty. We've had some good times, she and I, and in the end I'll be sad to see her go, but we both know it is for the best in the long run. (I'm listening to my Farewell to Boobs playlist right now and Lady Gaga's "Bad Romance" just came on. How appropriate!) I'd like to reflect more on that, but perhaps in a different post. I have a lot going on in my head right now, and I'm trying to keep it organized. (Again: planner at work!)

In this post, I wanted to reflect on the Boobie Funeral idea. This may sound morbid to anyone who isn't a pastor, but I actually love funerals, and I think most pastors would agree. The reason is that in the Christian faith, funerals are not a time to dwell on death. They are a time to remember the deceased, of course, and to celebrate their life, but ultimately the purpose of a Christian funeral is to celebrate that an earthly death is actually a birth - a rebirth, an entrance into eternal life, a life basking in the perpetual light of God. Now, I'm not going to go so far as to say that my boob is going to enter God's eternal glory on May 14 - let's not be ridiculous. (It seems worth mentioning at this point that the very first funeral I ever did was for a parakeet named Daisy.) But the consolation that out of death comes life - that resurrection idea that is the basis of Christian faith, as demonstrated on Easter morning - THAT is something I can get on board with, even for a boob.

As I bid farewell and godspeed to my boob, I am also welcoming something much greater than boobs back into my life: health. I loved the way that Dr. Skinner talked about this. She said that although this is big and scary, it should also be joyful, because when I wake up after surgery, I won't just be boob-free. I will be cancer free. And that is indeed joyful. That is indeed life.

So, I'm having a funeral for my boob. Sometime during that weekend before. If you come, bring a food to share that reminds you of boobs. (Obviously there will be gummy bears, even though that part of reconstruction doesn't come until later.) If you have ideas for how to throw a helluva boob funeral, please leave them in the comments below. Thanks for the help!