Monday, August 06, 2007
from the Kennebec Journal
Rep. Pingree hears varied proposals for health-care solutions
HALLOWELL Fire that cut communications labeled arson
MONMOUTH Police defended after slim budget rejection
State's schools chief to parley
Wasser will lead newsrooms at KJ, Sentinel and in Portland
BRIEFS
Hockey still in picture for Harrington
Portland boxer to face legend's son
All of today's:
News | Sports
from the Kennebec Journal
from the Morning Sentinel
$1.3 MILLION FOR HEALTHREACH
Families Matter grows to meet special needs
Chellie Pingree listens to ideas on health care reform
FARMINGTON Rain alters plans for 4th of July
District regroups after budget failure
Vote on county budget hits snag
Burnham driver wins checkered flag at 2 tracks on same day
Maine boxer gets unique opportunity
All of today's:
News | Sports
from the Morning Sentinel
Editor’s Note: Sixth in a series of columns about one woman’s journey through the often-scary world of breast cancer diagnosis and treatment.
I had almost accepted my new status as a breast cancer patient. I say “almost” because it still seemed a little unreal to me. Two months ago, I was healthy (I thought) and my life finally was headed in a good direction. Then, Wham!
Surgery was scheduled for the next day, and, after I took my shower, I took a really long look at myself in the mirror. I tried to imagine what I would look like after surgery. It was difficult.
I was fairly large-breasted, but my chest sort of balanced out my ever-expanding belly (post-menopausal belly fat, not acquired by drinking beer.) Without that balance, I thought, I’m not going to be just pear-shaped, I’m going to really look like a pear.
I have to admit that until the day before surgery, I hadn’t shed any tears about my condition. I don’t know why; I certainly knew it was going to be life-changing, but somehow it was almost as if I were going through this whole experience in the third person. It was happening to me, but it seemed as if I were a spectator to my own life.
That night, though, I did break down and shed a few tears — for the death of the life I had B.C. (before cancer). Not only the way I would look, but also the way people might look at me: “Poor woman, she has cancer, you know.”
I have always been a strong, independent woman and pity is the last emotion I want directed my way. I vowed then and there that I wasn’t going to let this disease get me down. I not only would beat it physically, but mentally and emotionally, too. Other people lose limbs to accidents or wars; this is just my loss in the war against cancer. More visible than some losses, but much less than others.
I started listing the benefits to surgical removal of both breasts:
1. I never have to buy another bra (in fact, I plan to have a bra-burning party when all this is over).
2. I will never have to have another mammogram (nothing left to X-ray, after all).
3. I’ll be able to hug other people much more closely after surgery.
4. If I ever take up jogging, I won’t have to hold them down or worry about them hitting me in the eyes.
5. I’ll have an immediate 5-pound weight loss.
Tears shed, sense of humor intact. I was ready.
Stephanie Law is a copy editor at the newspaper and lives in Sabattus
NEXT: Surgery
Contact Stephanie Law by e-mailing: doverfox51@midmaine.com




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