When a breast met a beast

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Cold. Sharp. Fast and furious. The scalpel cut my flash. Deep. Deeper. The surgeon took it out. He showed it to me. The one inch ball covered by bloody vessels, which wanted to nest in my left breast. I was almost 18.

In the white and cold surgery room there was another table  surrounded by a team of doctors who were stepping on a pool of blood dribbling on the floor. My surgeon asked me to turn my head away.

I got out of the hospital in half an hour, due for a check up a day later. Technically, it was a simple procedure. I was happy to put it behind me. Not so fast, my mind decided. For years, I could not stand any sharp objects pointing at me. The surgery left a small mark, but for years I let no man touch or kiss it. It was a minor intervention, with major consequences. 

I read these days testimonies of four women who survived cancer in Marie Claire Novembre 2012 (full text on http://www.marieclaire.fr/,cancer-du-sein-et-desir-temoignages-de-celles-qui-l-ont-vecu,20123,651596.asp).  They went through major interventions which touched the body and soul. Some with great family support. Others not.

The amount of questions goes up. The fear goes up. Some remedies work well for the body. Others do not work so well the spirit. What is key is that the support person/group understand and remember the fundamentals of treating the women whose breast met a beast: she needs a holistic approach: body, sound and mind.  These are great allies and need to be considered as such. When such a feminine symbol is touched, not only the body is in pain. The mind is ravaging with ‚would I be perceived as a women again’, ‚would he/she stay?’, ‚would he/she get scared?”. The soul is terrified by the gloomy atmosphere some doctors paint.

A mental walk in her shoes will give answers. Just be there. Ask no questions. Gently Touch. Whisper words of love. Sooth and sing lullabies.  Trust Life. And Love.

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