[2023-08-18] Know your magnificence
Today, I had coffee with a friend. We had missed our July get-together because of my surgery, so we were ecstatic to be able to meet for our August coffee.
She brought me a present: a self-love blessing banner, inspired by Tibetan prayer flags, which are used to bless one's surroundings and promote peace and compassion. The banner presents six statements across six flower-filled panels:
- May I know my magnificence.
- May I trust the wisdom within me.
- May I follow the passion in my heart.
- May I cherish my body.
- May I radiate love.
- May my soul shine bright and beautiful.
My friend told me that when she saw the blessing banner, she immediately thought of me. It was one of those perfect gifts, suited to me and the circumstances in which I find myself at this moment in my journey.
As I read the statements, I paused on "May I trust the wisdom within me." I haven't always trusted my wisdom, especially recently as I've occasionally second-guessed my decision to have a prophylactic bilateral mastectomy. But I noted to my friend my high risk of breast cancer and acknowledged that regardless of what happens with my reconstruction, the breast tissue is gone. That, surely, was the most important part of the surgery; the rest is just cosmetic.
I told her that I had wanted to be a poster child for preventive medicine and reconstruction. Someone who knew her risks, weighed the odds, took the tough decision and came out the other side strong, healthy and as good as new (perhaps even better than before). Instead, I became a poster child for what can go wrong in surgeries generally and breast reconstruction surgery specifically. Rather than a success story, I feel like a cautionary tale. Six weeks after my mastectomy and reconstruction, I have what could be seen as the worst possible outcome: one breast artificially plump and one breast unusually flat.
My friend saw things differently, telling me that at every step of my journey, I have been a poster child. Despite everything I've gone through, I've remained positive, optimistic and giving. I have shared my experience, in real time, both the good and the bad. I've informed, entertained and inspired people to take action on their health.
Just yesterday, a friend wrote to me that she had received a notice for her mammogram and called immediately to book her appointment. She also had a conversation with her colleagues about mammograms—the awkwardness of doing them but their necessity nonetheless. Further, she shared that her husband, whose mother had had breast cancer when she was in her 40s, talked to their daughter about the importance of mammograms. My friend wrote: "I was proud of him—a man talking to his daughter about it. Not embarrassed, just straight talk. He loved his mother, and he loves his daughter."
And today, another friend going through treatment for breast cancer shared a graphic with this beautiful quote: "Breathe darling, this is just a chapter, not your whole story." After sharing the good news that she is cancer free and that, with radiation, her odds of staying cancer-free for the next 10 years are almost 95%, she encouraged others to get their mammograms. She stated that she did not have a lump and that her cancer would not have been detected without a mammogram. She encouraged women over 40 to get mammograms. "Ask your doctors," she wrote, "and if they say no, ask again."
It can be hard to feel magnificent, wise, passionate, grateful, loving and beautiful when we encounter difficulties. But as I reflect on my own contributions, I invite you all to know your magnificence, trust your wisdom, follow your passion, cherish your body, radiate love and shine brightly.
