Everyone’s Staring At My Chest

I’ve noticed something strange lately. Everyone’s staring at my chest.

It’s not that I’m particularly well endowed, or that I wear those super low v-neck Tshirts hawked by Abercrombie & Fitch.

No. It’s because something is missing…and people know it.

Arms across chest

Three months ago, in early September I was diagnosed with breast cancer. I noticed a little dent in the side of my right breast and went in for a mammogram. Results: irregular (this is a nice way of saying “Uh oh!”). Then, in quick succession, I had an ultrasound, a biopsy, and a very unpleasant phone call from an apologetic radiologist. This was followed by a lumpectomy (unsuccessful), a mastectomy (successful), and, starting next week, chemo.

So I’m missing a breast and people look at my chest and try to figure out which one. It’s okay—don’t feel bad—I’d look too. I have looked. It just feels weird now to be the one being looked at.

My life has changed and will never be the same (is this good? Or bad? Still working on that.) Having breast cancer is time consuming and very expensive in terms of money, energy, and emotion (not to mention, my hair). It’s almost like having a demanding new career that I didn’t go to school for and wasn’t quite expecting. But it’s mine, it’s been given to me, and I can’t opt out.

And I haven’t written a word about it until now.

My tagline for my writing career is “Start a Little Adventure” It’s on my website and my business card. It even serves as the very last line of my book, So Long Status Quo, a memoir about women who changed the world. In fact, I was talking to my sister-in-law on the phone when all of this was first going down and she said “You wrote a book about strong women.  Now you’re going to have to be one.”

Right.

So, just as it does for every woman who joins the pink ribbon club, breast cancer has rocked my world. I’ve been living it, with no thought of writing about it, until last week when I had coffee with a friend. She lives in Wyoming and was in the San Francisco Bay Area for a friend’s wedding. We had the chance to sit down and talk at Bodi’s Java, an awesome local coffee house.

My friend loves books as much as I do. We’ve joked before that books are our first language. We talked about lots of things and at some point got around to my cancer thing.Hiding behind fingers

“Are you going to write about it?”

Deep breath. Hold it. Exhale. “I don’t know.” There are so many reasons not to. It’s embarrassing, It’s painful. It’s public. It’s new, and raw.

“I’ve been wishing you would,” she said, quietly. Her voice held a note of longing.

So, dear friend, here we go. I’m going to write about it because books and the written word are my first language. It’s how I make sense of the world. It’s how I can even begin to know who I am and what I’m doing. So I guess that trying to make sense of breast cancer can only happen, for me at least, through words. And maybe there are others out there like me.

Another deep breath.

Start a little adventure? Okay. I’m in.

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  1. Claire Koenig says:

    I tried really hard not to glance at your chest. Wasn’t successful. (For the record, I couldn’t tell.)

    But I would like to say that what I’m really looking at lately is your character and I’m inspired. You have faced this with fortitude, candor and humor and a refusal to let life proceed without you. Since your diagnosis you have gone to Disneyland, a major concert, spoken at a conference shortly after surgery, gone to the mountains, hiked, hosted Thanksgiving dinner, and more. (I look at myself and think if I were in your shoes I might be on the sofa with a lap blanket and a box of Kleenex, watching Beaches and hoping for good news.) So as in your book, you’re not on your comfy couch. And you’re still amazing me!

  2. Susy, I had no idea! wow! I think back to how much encouragement and time you have given with my book and the whole time you were dealing with the big BC! WOW! Just another reason why I can’t wait to meet you in person some day and hug you! I encourage you to step out and write the book because I KNOW it will be so helpful, inspiring and encouraging to so many women. You are a strong Proverbs 31 woman! May God continue to bless and heal you as you begin this new adventure!

  3. Teddy says:

    mom this is really cool. love you (:

  4. Susy, I didn’t know about this, since you haven’t written about it and the only way I know you is through Facebook. My mom survived breast cancer (then died of pancreatic cancer years later, but that’s another story), I have two friends currently going through the mastectomy/chemo/radiation/ reconstruction battle and several other friends who are survivors. I’m sorry you’re having to go through it, but looking forward to reading what you learn. I’m going to share your blog with my friends in the battle.

  5. Carol Hall says:

    Wow, Susy, I didn’t know. You are a strong woman to be able to cope with this and continue doing all the things you normally do. However you decide to write about your experience will be as unique as you are. Will be praying for you as you go through chemo.

  6. Eileen Kuzmicky says:

    Susy,
    You will be in inspiration to many women!
    My prayers are with you as you go through the next phase. The Lord will be with you every step of the way!

  7. John Vonhof says:

    I’ve been thinking of you since reading a few of your Facebook posts. We’ll send prayers your way. I know too many women with breast cancer. Worked on the medical team (patching feet) at the October Breast Cancer Three Day in SF and had a great experience. Would love to get together for lunch. Let me know.

  8. Jhonna Eckel says:

    Susy,

    You are a phenomenal woman and I am so inspired by you. I hope you choose to write about your journey because I know God will carry you through and HE will be glorified through your testimony of faith.

  9. Tina De Lise says:

    Susy,

    We don’t know each other. I was directed to your page by your husband’s Aunt Eileen (we sing together). I am a breast cancer survivor of 2-1/2 years. I had bi-lateral mastectomies, reconstruction and chemo. I was diagnosed at the age of 45.

    Prior to surgery I was terrified. Three Christian ladies gathered together, laid hands on me and prayed over me – and the fear was GONE; a sense of peace had taken it’s place. I highly recommend letting others pray over you.

    I will definitely be praying for you. The only “advice” I have is to be “present” and allow the people around you to love you. Just soak it in. And write your book – if nothing more it will be totally cathartic for you. I created a scrapbook covering the first year of my cancer journey. It helped me continue to see all the wonderful things in my life.

    I wish you the very, very best. And if there is anything I can possibly do for you to help you through this journey – please don’t hesitate to ask.

    Humbly yours – Tina

  10. [...] couple of months ago I was diagnosed with breast cancer. Since then I’ve had several diagnostic tests, two surgeries, and a plethora of doctor’s visits [...]

  11. Liz Sulonen says:

    I can only say, may our Lord be glorified in your life! May He give you the strength as you fight this fight… that He has chosen to give to you. May He give you the peace as you wait on His will. May He receive the glory as we see how He answers prayer. I will be praying for you Mrs. Flory! Thank you for your honesty and your openness.

  12. Megan says:

    So I was good all the way through the post until I saw Teddys comment. Then I teared up. Wow. Love you Susy.

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