Life is a series of moments- some that take our breath away with their beauty and richness; others that leave us gasping for air with their sadness and uncertainty.  If only we had a large, life-size eraser for those moments that beg a “do-over.”  Moments we long to savor and re-live over and over again and moments that we would like to paint over with a wide, thorough brush stroke.

Breast cancer is a collage of both types of moments.  The love, prayers, and self-sacrifice of family and friends are the moments that are tender treasures.  A beautifully wrapped package from the precarious world of breast cancer diagnosis and treatment.  Operating rooms, drains, and pathology reports are the moments that we long to erase with wide, deep strokes.

With my mastectomy I had direct-to-implant reconstruction or immediate reconstruction.  Moments to savor:  waking up and looking in the mirror and seeing breasts rather than a blank canvas, hearing my surgeon say, “I don’t think you need chemo, but I want to make sure,” gazing deeply into my husband’s eyes and seeing how very much he loves me, feeling my God’s presence so deeply, so completely that it left me shaken, unable to fathom His absolute adoration of my soul.

The ultimate do-over in the breast cancer world is what the plastic surgeons gently refer to as a “revision.”  This is code for “you need to have one more surgery.”  Like almost everything in life, breast reconstruction is not a “one-stop shopping experience.”  After a few months passed, one of my new breasts settled into a lower zip code than the other.  At first, I thought it didn’t matter.  My plastic surgeon discussed a “revision” with me and explained that this surgery would be so much easier than my mastectomy, with virtually no chance of complications.  I wasn’t convinced.  I tried looking in the mirror and changing my posture ever so slightly.  Perhaps I could live with it.

I remember the day I decided it did matter.  Breast cancer had stolen the control I had over my health and my life.  I was not going to let it also control how I looked in a dress, a swimsuit, or in my birthday suit.  So, it was time for a “do-over,” a revision, another surgery.

And that opportunity to take control, to decide how I would look was one of the most glorious, breath-taking moments I have ever experienced.

So, if you are in a hard place right now- looking for a “do-over”- pick up your eraser, hold it delicately within your fingers, and take control.  Savor those moments that leave you breathless and revise those moments that leave you gasping for air –  until your breath becomes even, calm, and rhythmic…