Space Junk

Tomorrow I get a prosthetic.  A strange fake thing that is suppose to look real, feel real, make me look normal. I hate it already and I don’t even have it.  I want to hurl it as far as my lame girl throw is able.  I want to see if the damn thing skips on water.  Can it knock a branch clean off a sturdy tree?  I want to know if it can smash a window, a lot of windows.  Maybe go through one window at the back of the house and keep right on going until it flies through the window at the other end of the house.  Fling the thing far away until it takes to orbiting the planet with the rest of the space junk.

Plastic nauseates me.  When girls grow up, we seem all very much alike until we mature a bit… and eventually part ways over plastic.

 

Some girls to the land of stuffed bras, fake nails, 6” heels, pasted lashes, hair spray stiff. The rest of us might try awhile to improve ourselves with the many aids, but finally hate the confinement so much we give in to the realization that we are one of the plain girls that’ll have to do.

I know folks with a missing foot or arm are thankful for the prosthetic that enables them to be who they are, and move about, but how does a fake breast help me at all?  I can’t wear it swimming.  I’ve read stories of those out for a swim seeing the embarrassing thing float by. Can’t run with it.  Can’t sleep better with it.  Just a spiteful reminder of what’s gone each time I put it on and take it off.

But tomorrow I get the prosthetic.  I can’t stop the flood of tears that surprise me.  My gut aches with the sobbing.  I’m so angry.  I can’t sop up the mess fast as it comes.  Strange, but deep down I feel like getting this fake breast tomorrow seals the deal.  Like it’s an agreement with the insurance agency that I’ll have my breast taken off and kept off permanently.

So that’s it.  Every personal medical crisis I’ve experienced in my life has been resolved over time.  Never before have I had a medical loss for good.

Not just the loss of my breast, forever gone, but the loss of how I do life.  Carefree and wind blown in my own comfortable skin.

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I’ll wear a prosthetic for the sake of everybody else.  People have the right to go out and about and not run into a one breasted woman.  I guess it’s final.  I do need one. Dresses will never fit right, nor coats nor bras without.  It’s not a replacement of what once was part of me.  It’s clothing filler.  That’s all.  And besides, it just might do on a dull afternoon as a discus.

Amelia

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19 Comments

  1. Amelia, you are beauty full! You do not need plastic of any sort to improve upon your heart of love and beauty. And that is all your friends care about. Hugs!

    P.S. Girl you are writing them out of the ball park! Thank you for your honest stories. Your beautiful, messy stories matter!

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    1. Thanks Cheri. Its therapy, I think, to get the words out. Feeling better already:) Wish you were here to go to the stupid fitting with me. Well, butterfly will go, and together we will keep it light:)

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  2. When you are feeling like throwing your make others feel more comfortable prosthesis, speak Jesus name out loud for new thoughts to replace your current feelings. It must be very difficult! I agree that writing is very good for your soul!

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    1. Dawn, I don’t want others to feel uncomfortable with having to wear one or even two… Yes, prayers that I manage this grief process is important. God has been very near by in this pain
      What surprises me is the length of time it takes so move through the steps of grief, even in a seemingly small losses like this breast. Thank you for the encouragement.

      Amelia

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  3. It’s no small thing, it’s no small loss, it is OK to refuse to be that which you think others care about but which you don’t care…….I, your friend, has always been small chested and have become comfortable with that and really have come to realize how little others notice ….. maybe I just don’t care how others prefer my chest??????

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    1. Mary,

      We are split – me and me:) I am the shy sort that does not want to be noticed for something that appears strange or odd (one breast), and also the free spirit sort (the part of me that feels trapped into using fake). I think all of us are torn on issues. This article explores that. You are beautiful and would not look proportional with anything but the way you are, by the way.

      Love you

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      1. AAAAAHHHHH thanks sweet friend. Your rich words and your sharing of those inmost thoughts are soooooooooo much better than the useless, meaningless words on most Christmas cards. Give Butterfly and her older brother hugs for me. They are part of your experience of being scooped up into the stream again after your “dry dock” repair.

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  4. Leaving this comment years after you posted this. Your writing is so beautiful, I am working my way through posts.
    My boob in a box is in the closet – alone after a three day tour. I couldn’t stomach wearing it. After two years of one D cup, I find it amazing how much people do not notice. I made myself new dresses so that I wouldn’t be reminded so much of what isn’t there. And Much to my delight I found that I can now wear two dresses, ones that I had been holding onto because I loved them- even though a weight gain had rendered them irrelevant. A mastectomy made room for them to fit again after years unworn.
    Thank you for your beautiful writing. Sending light and love across the time and space of the blogosphere-
    Iris

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    1. Iris, First of all I love your name. I love it. It’s so alive and beautiful. It was the name of a dear friend’s Mom who died when he was a boy, and I was just a girl. Sometimes I think of her, and haven’t for so long, and then an Iris writes me and I’m choked up. She was handicapped and hurting and rejected and made a terrible mistake stepping off that street corner, and lost her life. I’m so glad you are alive despite parts stolen by the ugly underbelly of cancer. Thank you for joining me in this journey. I am a walk/talk therapist and when I’m walking with the clients, I don’t wear the prosthetic. The days I’m good to myself I don’t wear it. It’s hard, because I know my husband really wants me to wear it, and I hate it with a passion. So sometimes like today when I’m with family from out of town I wear it. But most of the time with love for my back and for the body that is mine I leave it in the box. The box. You made me smile when you said that. Lets stay in touch. Life is beautiful. So glad to share the beauty with an Iris:)

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      1. I love the idea of a walking therapy session! I’ve not heard of that practice before. I signed up to follow your writing, which will be a touch point. Have a wonderful visit with your family.
        Xo Iris

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      2. Yes, let’s stay in touch:) I need to write about the walk/talk therapy because it’s been so powerfully healing for my clients. Will get a blog out on that one day.

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