Today is Not Insignificant

Posted on September 8, 2022 By AmberNichole4 Comments

How does somewhere so crowded 
feel so
lonely?
And how does a place with standing room only 
feel so
empty?

How is it that even on common ground 
very little is
common?
And how is it that even in shared experiences 
very little is
shared?

How can everyone else see familiarity 
yet for me nothing is 
familiar?
And how can I live facing my truth 
yet many don’t see it as
true?

How am I supposed to make 
the nonsense 
sensible?
And how am I supposed to turn 
the upside-down
rightside-up?

How do I exist in the space that I once took up 
when that space no longer
exists?
And how do I fit
when nothing
fits?

Today I remember. Today is the anniversary of my mastectomy, the day body parts were removed. Amputated. Examined. Tested. And then discarded. 

The day that started a recon process that was wretched and wrought with pain. Drains. Expanders. Fill ups. Chemo. Fill downs. Radiation. Fill ups. Skin checks. Naked pictures. Body part transplants. Relocated blood vessels. Removed rib bones. More drains. More naked pictures. Revisions. Liposuction. Fat grafting. Full compression body suits. More naked pictures. More revisions. More fat grafting. More liposuction. More naked pictures. Failure. Implants. More drains. More revisions. More fat grafting. More liposuction. More compression. More naked pictures. More failure. Tattoos. More revisions. More naked pictures. More fat grafting. More liposuction. More compression. More failure. Explant. More naked pictures. More failure.

The day that brought about deep regret. And a repeat mastectomy. And more naked pictures. And more drains. And more failure. And a day that would eventually leave me with nothing but ugly, almost-flat-but-not-really-flat, scarred, ridged, lumpy, hollowed out holes.

The day that I would have done completely differently then, had I known what I know, now. 

The day that I now have to remember every day because that was the day that permanently disfigured me.

The day that changed the way I see everything. That changed the way I feel about everything. That changed the way I live out everything.

Breast cancer may be “common” . . . but never assume “common” means “insignificant.” And never assume “common” means “get-over-able.”

4 Thoughts on “Today is Not Insignificant”

  1. Dear Amber,
    Technology today is creating 3D pictures of internal organs, without physically opening the human body.
    You are creating an authentic scenario of feelings, emotions and thoughts of a cancer patient, not possible to visualize, through your amazing literary talent. As an ardent admirer of your writings, I am trying to fathom the purpose and the support it is giving to the Cancer Community.
    Generally, patients communicate only their success over the disease but not the detailed experiences / feelings / emotions which they had to undergo, hiding a heavy burden of stress within their heart.. Your explicit description and picturisation of it through words inspires them to follow your example, to lighten the burden of their distress.
    Even though it sounds morbid, the under-current of your words encourages patients to fight their simpler problems—without giving up.
    May God Bless you with resources for more such classical writings.
    Ramana T
    India

  2. Who would ever know – I’m speechless – your amazing … My dtr will soon be almost finished with her treatments & then go on the pill for 5-10 ?yrs But, I get it, it’s with you forever. I look to your writings for guidance
    I am so sorry all that happened to you. I’m glad your still sane !

    1. 💛 thank you Darlene. I appreciate your kindness and encouragement. I’m hopeful your daughter has little effects from the maintenance meds. Sending hugs and love to you both. 💛

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