peek into my breastless story

This was taken on my first day in the Warnemünde area. You can see on the quality of the photo that I was not well.

July 2023 – I was pretty certain that I wouldn’t have cancer, even after the biopsy. But just in case news wouldn’t be good, I booked two nights in a hostel in Warnemünde, Baltic Sea town, so that I could get away, the day after I receiving whichever the news would be.

I can only recommend that. If you get a bad diagnosis, take time out, go to a place you like, be away, don’t hang around your flat, go somewhere where the air is fresh, where the sun gets in the way of collapse, and in my case where the expanse of the sea soothes you.

The first day, I walked from Warnemünde to Nienhagen and back, about 20km in total. My body hurt so much that night that I frequently woke up. But it was the best I could do. Get off the train, check in, and go on a long walk, drinking in the ocean with every step. I got a fraction of a rainbow on my way back.

Day three I spent mostly on the beach of Nienhagen.

On a whim, I decided to build a sandcastle. I didn’t plan it, but as I moved around the sand, I actually built two breasts. Later when the shadows grew longer, I took the photo you see on the right. Unwittingly I had created an image where my big breasts would be moved to the sides and a small chest would remain.

This was the beginning of actively searching for rituals which would allow me to say goodbye to my breasts – even though at the time, I didn’t know yet whether the insurer would pay for a double mastectomy.

I had three months to think, to process, to decide, to say my farewells. I’m glad I had this time.

Me on the way back. I was still moving and not hurting too much.

A day trip to Usedom, a Baltic Sea, island, days before the operation.

Fast forward to October, the final days before the operation.

In the previous months my main focus had been on getting stronger and healthier. My body was still reeling from years of overwork, and I was afraid that it might not be able to deal with the operation.

But I also did a lot for my mind and soul. I already spoke of rituals. I invented a farewell dance which I did several times but most significantly during a day trip to Usedom. I found an empty spot at the beach, and danced my farewell. And not just that, it was to cold for another sandcastle but I began to draw in the sand.

By the evening, I dissolved the breasts image you see above and added a new one, where nothing but the scars would remain.

At the time, I didn’t know that my breasts were too big and too close together for two scars and so I have one big scar.

One of the last photos I took of myself with the breasts still in place.

The night before the operation.

I remember sitting at my small writing desk, kind of peacefully, adding edits to the first draft of book 3, shaping. I wanted to take a new printout of the book to the hospital. Not just to read and edit it, but also as a kind of anchor.

It got really late. But when the printout was stowed away in my suitcase, I sat down on a beanbag, candles alight, topless, and I caressed my breast, apologised for having ignored them for so long. I took them in my hands and kissed them goodbye.

I have ignored my breasts for most of my life but I am glad that we parted as friends.

Me back in my room after the operation.

The day of the operation.

When I woke up, I spoke English to the nurse, and I only realised my mistake, when she mumbled, half panicky, something like: But I don’t speak English.

I was okayish before the operation. I was a bit puzzled by the main operators attempt to convince me to have her create two nipples of the healthy breasts one, and her apparent disappointment. A bit like I was spoiling her fun. Mind you, she did a great job.

I was taken to the operation theatre still conscious. They wanted me awake to position me carefully because my shoulder injury made certain positions impossible.

Once position they began to sedate me and there was this moment when I lost control and I began to weep bitterly. I couldn’t even touch my breasts one last time. And then I was gone.

When I woke up, I spoke English and I felt great, like something that had disturbed the body, was gone. Not the breast, the cancer.

But I also experienced an unexpected deep happiness that I was now breastless, and while I guess that some processing, especially with respect to cancer, is still needed for, my happiness hasn’t wavered – quite the contrary.

My breasts memory stones.

In the hospital

This is going to be a big chapter. For now, I just want to mention my breast stones.

Back in July, when I went to the Baltic Sea, I decided to find two stones in honour of my breasts.

I did and I was glad that they were there with me in the hospital. I was glad that I paid my respect.

The stones are still here, sitting on my writing desk. These days, I rarely notice them.

I’m thinking of giving them some kind of burial, some kind of final farewell. I haven’t decided yet.

I loved being in the water. I love that I no longer have to wear a swimsuit.
Also, moving in the water helps a lot with mobilising the shoulders again.

after hospital, rehab & after

More bigger chapters.

The things you can’t and shouldn’t do after a double mastectomy make for quite a list and include funny things like not being able to open a window, or not being able to cut anything as solid as a potato. When you realise that cooking isn’t a good option, you have the great idea to go to a restaurant where you find out that you can’t open the door.

There is a lot about rehab that could do with a rethink but despite all that I am glad I had the opportunity to go. Again many stories and tips will be part of the breastless book.

One thing that bugged me was how long recovery took. I wasn’t in the best shape to start with – but who is? And I probably was a bit too eager to write again and very likely didn’t always make the best choices. But still, I think it was June when I had the first times where I thought, ah, OK, I’m getting there.

Notes for chapters for breastless

Once again a day trip to the Baltic Sea in April 2024

Making notes for breastless, the book, in a local cafe.

Making notes for breastless, the book, at my favourite lake in the Müritz-Nationalpark.

Writing again & the magical lake

While I’ve put the breastless book on hold for the moment, I still want to write it. Not because I am this eager to share my story, but because I remember all the simple questions I had and couldn’t find answers or suggestions to, back in August 2024.

In short, I would like to write the book which I would have liked to read after getting my diagnosis. And it will contain a lot of very simple things: like what does marking the sentinel lymph node mean? And no, I didn’t look it up, because marking clearly means putting a cross somewhere, right?

It’s not. In my case it involved a doctor who was uncomfortable with touching my breast, who injected the breast with a radioactive solution, then I had to go on a walk to let the solution reach the sentinel node, then someone else takes X-rays to see which of the nodes is the sentinel. If two are marked, two are taken out, like in my case. And then you go home and feel utterly shattered.

Back to writing. It took months before I could write any length of time again. Two of my tricks were to grant myself the occasional visit to a café and to travel to a lake where I could often find a quiet spot to read and in between go for a swim.

Me hiking with my Nordic Walking sticks. I remember swearing that I would never be seen with these silly sticks. But then came rehab and the information that you can train up to 90% of your muscles when Nordic Walking. You can’t beat that. I want muscle, sticks it is.

Another spot at my favourite lake in the Müritz-Nationalpark.

Do I recommend a double mastectomy?

No. That’s not the kind of thing anyone but a doctor can recommend.

I went through a roller coaster in those three months. First determined to have the breasts removed, then starting to doubt my determination, after all, what does it do to the body if you remove two organs? And that was my biggest worry. How does the body cope with that. I have to shrug at this point. Like I mentioned before, I wasn’t going in strong, so I don’t know why my recovery took so long.

But there are a few things I can say. Swimming is great. Don’t panic if your chest feels like a belt is being tightened around it. I still sometimes have echoes of that feeling. Have rituals, before and after. Explore life. Occupy yourself with things that interest you. Yoga, meditation and breathing are all a great help, even though I am still pretty much a beginner.

As for my chest. I love it.

Now, I haven’t had sex without breasts, but the chest still is extremely sensitive. It made me realise that our largest sex organ is actually our skin.