Traveling with skin expanders should be no different from everyday living, right? Every time I fly I feel the expanders get harder as if they have had more saline injected i into them. I know this isn’t true, I know the saline is inert and should not expand under pressure, but I swear, every time I fly, the next day I feel like I have two bowling balls on my chest. They feel fuller and more pressure than before, but this is not logical. After just writing the post on hypochondria I should be able to say, it’s all in my mind, but it’s not, its in my chest and painful. It doesn’t look bigger, the tension when you press on it seems the same, yet it feels different. Could this be phantom pain?
UPMC recently called me and asked if i would participate in a survey based on my bilateral mastectomy and phantom breast pain. I’d thought about this a lot since the mastectomy and had moments when I thought I was nuts. Moments when I had the feeling of let-down associated with nursing a baby. The first few times it happened was early on and there was still much discomfort from the surgery. But later after most of the discomfort had disappeared I would suddenly feel that let down, and would look down, almost expecting the milk to start flowing. The questions on the survey involved mostly itching and pain and I was surprised that someone else knew about this. It still amazes me how much of a bubble we reside in during breast cancer…of course other people feel these things. And of course you would, you just lopped off two very sensitive body parts and how could I not expect to have phantom pain? The pain wasn’t the worst part, it was the itching–I will get this terrible itch and need to scratch, and when you go to touch it, you are totally numb, so scratching has no effect on the itch.
This is mind bending, having this incredible itch and having no way of effecting it. But cancer and cancer treatment in and of itself is mind bending. Removal of breasts, infusions of toxic substances, radiation producing blistering burns all in the name of healing. And our bodies do heal, and our minds chug along behind trying to make sense of it all. Someone called me a survivor the other day, the first time since this began. I don’t feel like a survivor, I feel embattled, tired and confused. Everyone marvels at my great attitude and how great I look, how upbeat I am. And I am, unless I get off a plane I’ve been on overnight and feel two bowling balls on my chest. Then I feel this is the confused time, the tired time, the time I may not be so upbeat. But then my overnight plane ride brought me to Israel and I get upbeat again. So big deal, two bowling balls on my chest, it’s only temporary, surgery is soon…then I’ll have something else to complain about!