It’s hard to prepare for Breast cancer. We can often believe we know exactly what that landscape looks like: intense fear, surgery, chemo, radiation, hormone blockers and the looming possibility of death.

But that is not all of the possibilities out there.

Oh, no!

There is still more fun to be had.

Since my diagnosis, I have stumbled upon a few instances of this extra “fun.”

First, there was the matter of my chin. Yes, you heard me.

At the tail end of my radiation, I woke up to a parting gift one morning: a black mark on my chin.

And no, it was not a mole. Those are dark brown. This sucker was jet black and noticeable even with makeup covering it.

After several unsuccessful attempts at scrubbing my face, freaked out, I called my radiation nurse. What was this? We were targeting the right side of my chest, not my chin.

She seemed unconcerned as we spoke on the phone. Meanwhile, I’m wondering if this thing was going to spread further; I still had some treatments to go. I envisioned my mug looking like Mike Tyson’s face tattoo.

She examined it when I came in later that day. And, upon closer inspection, my nurse calmly mentioned how, your favorite and mine, stress could change the pigment of the skin. So… black spots.

She assured me, “In time, it will fade.”

And yes, it has, although I still see a faint trace. Souvenir, I suppose.

I’m Itchy:

Okay, so, eventually, my face calmed down and, concerning Breast cancer mayhem, I was able to focus on my chest. Yep, things were quite chesty in the early days of my recovery. And, that’s because I was itch-er-rific.

They say itching is a sign of healing. Well, then, I was healing intensely.

With my bilateral mastectomy, I told my surgeon to take all of the breast tissue. I wasn’t interested in leaving some behind, a flap’s worth here or there, to possibly get reconstructive surgery if I changed my mind. Nope. I really was done.

So, from surgery wakeup on, I had one patch on my right side that was especially “skin and bone.” I’m talking tissue-paper thin… and itchy.

As I went to checkups with my Cancer Care treatment team, no one raised an eyebrow. This is just my brand of healing. Because so much tissue was removed during my surgery, that patch would be sensitive. It was skin over breastplate bone. Sensitivity, plus all breast tissue removed, plus healing, equals itchy, I guess.

And it persists, to this day. It goes with the tight scar tissue band across my chest. Healing. You can probably hear me scratching right now.

With so much emphasis on the loss or change of breasts, there is not much said about personal itchiness. And I could have really used that head’s up.

Dents and Creases:

Continuing on with the lack of head’s up concerning my Breast cancer experiences, there was the matter of me changing shape with dents…oh, and creases.

I knew I would not have breasts on my chest after my bilateral mastectomy. I knew that area of my body would change. After the stitches, after the burned skin from radiation, after months of my skin tightening and healing, I noticed something. On my right side, the side that contained the tumor and the irradiated, slightly swollen skin, I had a couple of dents. It was explained to me, by my both my physical therapist and my surgeon, how part of my healing involved rebuilding that area. Visions of Arnold Schwarzenegger and Mr. Universe competitions danced before me. I wasn’t thrilled about that. But, indeed, as I healed from major surgery and from radiation’s intensity, I was rebuilding muscle and tissue. So, dents.

And the creases, mainly one prominent one where my right breast used to be, also got my attention. This was beyond a person’s face having a crease or indentation from a pillowcase or a bedspread. This looked like the right side of my chest was ironed and folded incorrectly. When I raised my right arm, it formed a “Y-shaped” crease that traveled North. And it did not straighten out as I attempted to push, pull and stretch my skin. Nope, just a divining rod, “Y-shape,” almost smirking from its crease-i-ness.

So, there I was again, panicking, bringing this up to my care team. Again, I was assured I was simply healing. This was how I was sewn up and this was how my skin responded to my scar site. Regenerating muscle and developing scar tissue were all part of the “new normal chest,” with a large “Y” chest crease.

I learned the lesson: if you have Breast cancer, along with its accompanying surgery and procedures, your chest will change in ways you didn’t expect.

And, just when I got slightly comfortable in that lesson’s discomfort, another wackadoodle thing popped up. But this time, it wasn’t my chest. Try my left calf instead.

Yeah.

A year after my surgery and radiation, I felt a discomfort- and a lump- in my left calf muscle. My little imagination went straight to worst-case scenario. I wondered if this was a cancerous mass. And this discovery happened during the holiday season. It wasn’t a very merry Christmas- nope. Amid the colorful lights and “good will toward men,” I was pondering Sarcoma and possible amputation, fa-la-la-la-la. Extreme, you might say? Out of the realm of possibility? Well, cancer already hit my life. And my dark nature bleakly concluded that all bets were officially off now.

When I had it checked out, my primary physician, to her credit, did not dismiss me as a silly girl, patting me on the head. No, after explaining my symptoms, she immediately ordered X-rays and an ultrasound. Top of her concern list? A potential- and life-threatening- blood clot.

Oh, great, something else to think about.

I learned this possible issue could occur after surgery and radiation: yes, both of those procedures put me at an elevated risk of blood clots. Fantastic. Cut nerves and pathways are cut nerves and pathways. I couldn’t avoid the fact that my body was attempting to adjust to itself after some major physical trauma. Anyway, I was zapped and canvased and received my results within the next two hours.

No, I wasn’t dying. There wasn’t a tumor. There wasn’t a blood clot. Instead, it was the return flare up of my chronic back issues, a non-Breast cancer issue. My physician explained I had thousands of miles on me, like a car.

It’s always great to hear you’re old, especially from a medical professional.

But even though this was not directly Breast-cancer related, the knowledge of potential clots showing up in my legs and other weird things happening to my body is still something on my radar screen, as I ponder all manner of “what’s wrong with me now” thoughts.

The fact is I’m more vulnerable to things going wrong. Fun. Call it recurrence, complications, “increased risk,” or “mileage,” it still emphasizes how a weird thing happening to my body can no longer simply be dismissed. Cancer Land, the amusement park that it is, changed that.

So, lumps, bumps, dents, aches, pains, sensations and pigment changes are all possible hijinks now. And yes, that irritates me. Nevertheless, I pay attention and go along for the ride, taking care of each situation, one by one.

I have to say “hi” to the hijinks.

Copyright © 2019 by Sheryle Cruse