Go ahead, squeeze my melons. Tweak them, Pinch them. All, and I mean ALL, of the nerves in my breast area have been severed. I have no sensation in my breasts or in my nipples... The way things are right now, you could clamp a vice grip on my nipples and I would never know.
I wanted my partner's breath in my mouth, and his weight on my hips. I wanted to feel every inch of my skin and every cell of my body vibrate with positive sensation. I wanted to move my body into his in primal, animal-like ways. I wanted to feel the fabric of my humanness beneath my naked back. I wanted to die again and again with each climax, yet wake up safe and sound and still very much alive. I desperately wanted to stay alive.
As a child, I thought Dr. Lepore was quirky, intimidating and a little scary. You couldn't have dragged me to his practice. His office was, and still is, decorated with skeletons, guns and taxidermied animal heads.
This playlist encourages you to let it all hang out: the raw disappointment, the resentment, the grief, the anger and the anguish. We think you have a right to all those feelings. Some of this music will help you go there, and then, it will bring you back. It will buoy you up, give you hope, and shine a light in the darkness.
I’ve put my hands over my chest and thanked my breasts for all the amazing things they’ve brought into my world: a strapping, well-nourished toddler, a satisfied and engaged partner, and a deeply loving maternal sensibility within myself.
It is a huge challenge, finding equanimity. It can feel next to impossible some days; moving back and forth between the ritual details of what's happening in the context of one's illness and the appreciation of everything else that's going on around us.
The early days of a new relationship with cancer are tough. You’re just getting to know each other, and the circumstances around your courtship happen at breakneck speed. The following list is by no means definitive; just a few things I’ve picked up along my newbie way.