Saturday, December 20, 2003
Hey, Oxford English Dictionary: how about THIS one?
I was driving to the grocery store last night for the second time (I was in the midst of some holiday baking and discovered, to my dismay, that there wasn't enough vanilla for anything more than an easy-bake oven cake), when I had an epiphany. Really, it was more like a mild throbbing pain in my reconstructed breast. "Man, my boob hurts," I thought to myself. Then it occurred to me that what hurt wasn't really a breast.
What is it, really? It's not a breast in the normal sense. It's something that's slightly boob-shaped, but not very detailed (and lacking in some crucial features). I can't call it a fake boob, since there's nothing fake about it. No silicone, no saline...It's all me. There isn't really a good term that encapsulates what I have on the left side of my chest.
This could not be allowed to stand.
What should a reconstructed breast be called? "Tram flap" is too confusing for those who have no idea what the procedure is all about. "The Artist Formerly Known as Tummy"? "Pseudobreast"? (Hmm...I kind of like that one, but it's not what I thought of.) Then it occurred to me that all I have to do is indulge in some convenient abbreviation, and the term reboob was born.
I should perhaps explain that my mom is a huge fan of Ahnuhld Schwartzenegger movies (though perhaps not of Ahnuhld Schwartzenegger politics). "Reboob" has some resonance because it puts me in mind of the movie, The Sixth Day (which was better than it was given credit for...I thought it was at least as good as Total Recall), in which he--and his clone--both go to visit a store at the mall to investigate the possibility of acquiring a "repet" for his daughter. The family dog had died, and his hope is to replace it with something that looks identical. This upsets his wife, who complains that a repet just isn't the same and cannot be trusted.
Of course my reboob isn't a clone, but it is designed to serve the same function as a repet. It is designed to fill a void; to provide comfort in a time of loss. I may always have some degree of unease with the fact that this carefully crafted body part is alien and not entirely to be trusted. While outwardly it may appear to behave the same way as the original, I know it will not. And rather than being a perfect replacement for what I have lost, it will serve to remind me of what I have been through and what I have to fear in the way of a recurrence.
On the other hand (or the other side of the chest, as it were), having a reboob does provide comfort. I very strongly wanted to have my reconstruction occur at the same time as the mastectomy, because I couldn't face the idea of waking up with nothing there. I'm not ready to face a loss of that magnitude, especially since what was removed represents death and pain. A reboob represents hope and delay. If a small child can be preserved from having to face the pain of a beloved pet's mortality for a brief while, why not do it? If I can be preserved from having to face my own mortality for a while, that's great.
P.S. I did not have as uncomfortable a reaction to my second week of chemo. Yesterday I went for bloodwork, and the nurse (the other one, who works on Fridays) told me that at that point I should be suffering the full effects of the chemo, and it will only get better for the next two weeks. I felt completely and totally normal all day Friday. I believe the discomfort I felt last week may have been due to initial shock, my body going, "bleah, what is UP with THIS?"
What is it, really? It's not a breast in the normal sense. It's something that's slightly boob-shaped, but not very detailed (and lacking in some crucial features). I can't call it a fake boob, since there's nothing fake about it. No silicone, no saline...It's all me. There isn't really a good term that encapsulates what I have on the left side of my chest.
This could not be allowed to stand.
What should a reconstructed breast be called? "Tram flap" is too confusing for those who have no idea what the procedure is all about. "The Artist Formerly Known as Tummy"? "Pseudobreast"? (Hmm...I kind of like that one, but it's not what I thought of.) Then it occurred to me that all I have to do is indulge in some convenient abbreviation, and the term reboob was born.
I should perhaps explain that my mom is a huge fan of Ahnuhld Schwartzenegger movies (though perhaps not of Ahnuhld Schwartzenegger politics). "Reboob" has some resonance because it puts me in mind of the movie, The Sixth Day (which was better than it was given credit for...I thought it was at least as good as Total Recall), in which he--and his clone--both go to visit a store at the mall to investigate the possibility of acquiring a "repet" for his daughter. The family dog had died, and his hope is to replace it with something that looks identical. This upsets his wife, who complains that a repet just isn't the same and cannot be trusted.
Of course my reboob isn't a clone, but it is designed to serve the same function as a repet. It is designed to fill a void; to provide comfort in a time of loss. I may always have some degree of unease with the fact that this carefully crafted body part is alien and not entirely to be trusted. While outwardly it may appear to behave the same way as the original, I know it will not. And rather than being a perfect replacement for what I have lost, it will serve to remind me of what I have been through and what I have to fear in the way of a recurrence.
On the other hand (or the other side of the chest, as it were), having a reboob does provide comfort. I very strongly wanted to have my reconstruction occur at the same time as the mastectomy, because I couldn't face the idea of waking up with nothing there. I'm not ready to face a loss of that magnitude, especially since what was removed represents death and pain. A reboob represents hope and delay. If a small child can be preserved from having to face the pain of a beloved pet's mortality for a brief while, why not do it? If I can be preserved from having to face my own mortality for a while, that's great.
P.S. I did not have as uncomfortable a reaction to my second week of chemo. Yesterday I went for bloodwork, and the nurse (the other one, who works on Fridays) told me that at that point I should be suffering the full effects of the chemo, and it will only get better for the next two weeks. I felt completely and totally normal all day Friday. I believe the discomfort I felt last week may have been due to initial shock, my body going, "bleah, what is UP with THIS?"
