Growing up, I was bothered by this mole above my lips.

I remember one time my mother, who loved to watch Japanese musical variety shows, told me how these celebrities embraced their physical imperfection and thought of it as their signature.

I didn’t realize how that has stayed with me until now.

I’ve also learned since then that this is a principle of wabi-sabi – a Japanese concept about acceptance of imperfections and the transience of life. Ideas that continue to aid me as I try to take this one step at a time.

I think most people who know me would agree that I’m a pretty private person but since my cancer diagnosis I’ve learned the power of sharing.

I have benefitted from so many others who have armed me with information, showed me their strength so I can find mine, and helped me feel part of a community. 

Not a new story for those who have been diagnosed with breast cancer, but after my diagnosis of invasive lobular breast cancer (ILC), I was automatically scheduled for the initial appointments with a breast surgeon, medical oncologist, radiologist, and plastic surgeon; all virtual (thanks to COVID-19) and one right after another. 

It was overwhelming not just because of all the information and terminology, but because of the unknowns and decisions to make. Due to the size and location of the tumor, the only thing I knew was I would need a mastectomy instead of a lumpectomy.  

The options presented for reconstruction were implants or Diep Flap. I don’t know if others have gut reactions when hearing the options, but honestly, mine was to reject the idea of implants and frankly confusion over Diep Flap.

Instinctively, I felt that having reconstruction was not a good fit for me. I wanted a quick recovery, minimal risk for complications – I wanted to get back to being active as quickly as I could. Ultimately, I ended up with a bilateral mastectomy with a flat closure.   

The process to that decision was not easy.

I searched for images for both reconstruction and flat which led me to @lessthantwobreasts and @notputtingonashirt, to name a few.  Luckily for me, Renee, founder of @lessthantwobreasts, had recently started virtual calls to discuss breast cancer, body positivity, and COVID; which I was able to join.

This group of women, who were so generous with their own stories and knowledge, have helped me more than I could have anticipated. Among the many things I gained from them, one was the vocabulary to discuss with my surgeon and what I needed to consider to decide what I wanted.

I’m also grateful that my breast surgeon listened.

Even though I told her that the first plastic surgeon I had talked to didn’t assist with flat closures, she reached out to another plastic surgeon while I was still in her office. He was able to do the consult right then and agreed to do the flat closure for me.

They both listened and understood my goals: (1) to remove the cancer, (2) to retain as much range of motion as possible, (3) to remove extra skin to have a smooth flat closure, and (4) to have scars that were what I considered to be aesthetically pleasing.

This change to our bodies and the scars we now have reminded me of this Japanese art form called Kintsugi, which puts broken pieces of pottery together using lacquer and gold.

It is believed to have started when a Shogun’s favorite teacup was broken and after an unappealing first attempt, he asked another artisan to try and fix it. Instead of hiding the cracks, it was transformed into something even more precious. The fixing is a careful long process and the piece becomes even stronger. I’ve heard Kintsugi described as representing fragility, strength, and beauty.   

The first time looking at my body was hard.

I’m so grateful to my husband who didn’t blink an eye and instead gently reminded me about what was important. Slowly over the weeks with the drains removed and the swelling subsiding, I’m embracing my changed body. 

My scars and flat chest tell an important part of my story. 

I’m not ashamed of them. 

Yes, they are reminders of this terrible thing I had to do but I look at them more importantly as a reminder of what I did in order to live.  

I’m just shy of three months out from my surgery and nearing the end of radiation. 

My body will continue to change as I continue to heal. 

I’m focused on gaining back strength and being as fit as I can be, to be as ready as I can be, for the future, and whatever that may hold. 

My body is fragile but strong and in this I find beauty.