Breast Cancer Portraits--Scars and Healing

My most recent portrait session was a difficult one.  I wanted to document some of the scars and changes in my body, post mastectomy/reconstruction.  I was also dealing with a range of emotions about the whole thing.  My photographer, Amber, usually asks for words to guide her vision for the session.  My words this time were: scarred, loss, pain, healing. 


One of the most difficult parts of this session was trying to capture this part in the journey.  The scars and loss are more than just skin deep.  It's also been quite eye-opening to actually experience just how much goes into the surgery.

When I came home from the hospital in August, I looked a little something like this:

I was cut from hip to hip, stitched back together, had both breasts completely removed of their former tissue.  The original breast skin was used to house tissue harvested from my abdomen, closed by the circular "flaps," skin grafts from my abdomen, which replaced the areas where my nipples were removed.  A new belly button was completely constructed, and I had tubes and drains coming out of {what seemed like} everywhere.  It was a scary looking {and feeling} time.  I was only somewhat prepared for the magnitude of it all.  I was swollen, unable to move or use most of my body how I wanted, feeling down about the intensity of the changes, and in a good amount of pain.  

2 weeks after surgery, I'd had the stitches removed, and all the drains were ready to come out.  I was feeling great about the progress.  Sometimes when I start feeling too well, I overdo things a bit.  In one, small twisting move to reach for something on a side table, something that was so "normal" before all of this, I popped open my abdominal scar in three spots.  I felt like it looked terrible--and the sound of the bust alone made my stomach spin a bit--but my doctor assured me that things like this are fairly common, and I didn't have to come in.  I just needed to give myself more time to heal. 

 A month after surgery, things were improving.  The scars were healing, the swelling was going down, and the pain was vastly decreasing. 

 People are often curious about how the reconstruction works.  In the first stages, the flap of skin that holds in the new tissue is skin borrowed from another part of the body.  This is how it was healing up at my 6-week appointment.  I found it somewhat meaningful that the skin used for the flaps had stretch marks I'd acquired from pregnancy.  In some, small way it reminded me of my 3 precious babies, some of the most important reasons I was going through all of this.     

Before I went through the second stage of the reconstruction, which has completely changed the scars, both in how they look and how I feel about them, I wanted to document the huge circles and scar tissue, but how amazingly the body can heal in such a short time.

Two months after surgery:

 
After posing and recording the scars, talking about the process and the healing, I started to feel like I was seeing some of my strength return.  Loss and scars are real.  The healing process is both physical and emotional, but seeing my strength come through the back of the camera was empowering. 

We brainstormed and wanted to capture that strength.  Through our combined efforts, we envisioned a portrait of a survivor pulling herself out of the hole of sadness and depression, and what better way to pull herself up than with the symbolical pink ribbon? 

It was a tough session, but exactly what I needed.  I think this session was a turning point in my healing, especially in the emotional side of things.  It's amazing how something as simple as pictures can help you start to see the light and the strength that can come from the love of others and from within.