My Breasts Become a PSA

December 2013

My breasts seem to have become a Public Service Announcement, all on their own. Having spent my entire adult life a little body-shy and low in physical self-confidence, I find it quite strange that I'm now more than happy to let curious female friends poke, prod and otherwise examine my breasts. I hope that it will give them the confidence to examine their own on a regular basis, or failing that, at least scare them into doing so. I don't want any of them to have to go through this.

My right breast is still badly bruised from the biopsies – a marbled mess of black, blue and yellow –

A few weeks after biopsy - mostly healed but colourful

but doesn't hurt any more, at least. Some friends ask shyly what the cancer feels like, and I gently offer to let them feel it, on the outer quadrant of my right breast, if it will help. None of them turn me down. Others, the more brazen types, ask outright whether they can feel the tumour in order to have some idea how a cancer might feel. I take great pains to point out that everyone's body is different and that each woman needs to know what's normal (or not) for her, but otherwise sure, go ahead. So many others have, after all, even if you don't count my rapidly growing medical team.

I feel strangely detached from my breast. I'm glad that something positive can come of my willingness to have any and all curious female friends (wo)manhandle my chest, but I'm aware that I'm emotionally and psychologically distancing myself from it, perhaps in readiness for losing it altogether in January.