Sarah

There's a woman at the infusion center that comes through right around lunchtime every Tuesday and offers to get lunch for the patients. She's an older woman, roughly 70's. She wears a turtleneck with a blue vest that is covered in pins. Each pin represents some cause, some group or something interesting. She's part of UCSF's Peer Support program, and she's a 12 year Breast Cancer survivor.
"Can I get you anything? Sandwich? A blanket? A martini? Dirty magazine?"
She's got a quick wit.
When my friends flew all the way from the eastern seaboard to take me to chemo, they got to meet Sarah. We were all wearing our "Save Second Base" T-shirts that Polly brought and Sarah got a huge kick out of them. Thus sparked the conversation about breast reconstruction and the like.
"Oh, I didn't bother with that," offered Sarah. "When you go that route, you're kind of stuck with what they give you. I prefer to be more flexible, so I just go with the adjustables."
"The adjustables?" I inquired.
"Yeah. Depending on how I'm feeling, I can choose to be an A or a double D!"
Now, all three of us are staring at her chest. She appeared to have two equal, A-cup sized bumps under her sweater.
"What are they?" I asked.
"Go ahead, have a squeeze," She retorted.
I was caught between a rock and a hard place. If you knew my friend Polly, you would know that the look on her face was the exact look of "Go ahead, I dare you. If you don't grab this woman's fake breasts, I'm going to be very disappointed in you." Meanwhile, Edith was giving me the eyebrows up version that said, "After all, we came all this way....."
So there I was, in the infusion center, feeling up the lunch lady.
They were like hollofil, the stuff they use to put in sleeping bags and ski gloves. Sarah explained that she stuffed her bra with the stuff and it was great. Easy for her. She had a double mastectomy. I had a left only. There was no way that I was going to get hollofil to look like the right sided ski jump I had going on. She went on to say that there were all sorts of other options such as silicone prosthetics. She said that they were a little spendier but they looked a little more "life-like." She also referred me to the gift shop on the first floor where they sell them.
A week later, I had to make two trips to San Francisco. My counts had dropped and I needed an injection of a drug that would stimulate my blood cell production and keep my immune system alive. I drove down by myself. While I was there, I spent some time with the gift shop ladies who proceeded to explain all the possibilities of breast prosthetic options. Before i knew it, I was in a dressing room trying on bras and silicone implants. I was amazed at how close to real the implant looked.
Now, I'm not one of those girls whose femininity is all tied up in the size and shape of her bust. I'm perfectly content being small chested and have no qualms about lopping off the right side to match the left. However, that requires major surgery. I'm not in a place to go there right now. However, all of my shirts fit just a little funky. They hang sideways, so my neckline on all of my shirts looks like I put my shirt on the wrong way. It's distracting and when people figure out why my shirt looks so screwy, they get a pitiful look on their face. It's annoying. I decided that with Christmas and New Year's approaching, i was probably going to want to wear something pretty and strapless and it would look really dumb hanging off one side. I got the implant.
Ironically, insurance companies are supposed to cover this as a prosthetic. Your doctor can write you a prescription for a breast prosthesis and the insurance company will supposedly reimburse you, unless they scream that you got it "out-of-network" which means they're not going to pay for the nice ones. They'll send you down to the Breast Bargain Basement, their "in-network" breast prosthetic source. In other words, if you buy a used one, insurance will cover it. Insurance companies are weasels. They try to get out of everything.
Anyway, the next day, I came back and told Sarah about my experience. She was moved and excited because she felt she had made a difference. I told her if she really wanted to feel like she was making a difference, she could bring me a grilled cheese sandwich with turkey and tomato....
Weeks later, I got approached by Sarah and the media folks of UCSF. They wanted to interview me about Sarah and what she brings to the infusion center. Of course, I was honored to say yes and happy they would ask me. Seemed like there weren't a lot of patients who had the same sarcasm and gallows humor as Sarah and I had. We were two peas in a pod.
I was suddenly surrounded by people who thought it was so great that I would be interviewed and what a big deal it was. Of course, I knew that Sarah's humor and presence in the infusion center was important for patients and nurses because she is a seasoned resource. She's been through all the hell that breast cancer treatment offers and she's come out on the other side grateful for her life and an opportunity to make a difference in someone else's. Certainly, I probably wouldn't call the Peer Support line on my own but when the Peer Support program comes to you, it's nice to meet a woman who not only will offer you guidance but let you feel her up in the process.
Breast cancer has a strange stigma. Not everyone talks about it because women feel differently about their breasts. Some women are deeply affected by the loss of their breasts as a loss of their femininity or their identity. I don't miss my left breast but I realized that I do miss filling out my shirt in a semi-normal way. I found that getting information from other people about breast stuff was seemingly uncomfortable for people to talk about. Spark up a conversation about breast reconstruction and everybody thinks you want to be a stripper. I was very grateful that not only was Sarah uninhibited about talking openly, but she was witty and funny and put me at ease. I have no doubt that she suffered at one point. I am certain that she experienced the same hideous side effects, feared a case of pneumonia as a death sentence, and gutted her way through the chemo and radiation like everyone else. Her humor is not a mask for the path she took, but rather a way to keep you out of your own pit of despair. I am pretty sure her story has its dark parts, and I'm grateful that she doesn't ask me to relive them with her.
For those of us who lack humor or perspective, survivors like Sarah make surviving Cancer a very real possibility. The fear of who I might be after all these toxic concoctions and laser beams is very real. I wonder daily how all this chemical poison is going to affect my nervous system, my sense of humor or my physical abilities. Will I always have a bad memory? Will I be slower with a snappy comeback at parties? Will I need to take the shortbus to do my grocery shopping? Sarah provides the very real possibility that those of us still in treatment are not doomed. There's a chance that we might all come out of this not only alive, but witty and funny as well. I am grateful that UCSF recognizes the importance of peer support even if cancer patients don't until it walks in and offers to bring you lunch.
Who knows? Maybe when all this over, I'll be the lunch lady at my old job offering a squeeze of my silicone implant......or not. Either way, I'll be happy to have the option and grateful to those who do that job.