I now look at myself every morning, every evening, naked, in the mirror, equanimously, as I always did, and what I see is not a maimed body. Some might call this denial. Yet – I look at this flat expanse of my chest and I do not find it ugly, or repellent. My face, somehow, “goes” with this chest, there is a harmonious continuity from my face all the way down my body. There is, in all human beings, when they are bare-chested, a touching symmetry between the eyes and the nipples, and this symmetry, of course, in my case, is gone. Yet, and this may sound scandalous, absurd, or even mad: this breast-less body is not devoid, in my eyes, of a certain pure and abstracted beauty. If it is indeed monstrous, it is so in the manner of some magical, not quite human creature – a fairy, a mermaid – an Amazon. Anne-Marie de Grazia


princessandpea.jpegLikely you know the fairy tale of The Princess and the Pea. A prince is looking for a bride. A woman appears at the gate of his castle who claims to be the real deal but she looks, well, pretty disheveled. Old ma knows how to tell the difference, and so places a pea under the pretending princess’ twenty mattress bed. When the parvenu wakes up she whines incessantly about having slept so poorly because there was something amiss with the bed and BINGO everyone knows she’s the real deal. The prince marries his newly authenticated bride. The pea is put in a museum.

As a child, I felt deeply ambivalent about this story. The fetishization, in women, of useless knowledge seems to me epitomized by the positive spin placed on the princess’ ability to find the pea. And when the possession of that useless knowledge is the litmus test for jubilant heterosexuality, well, then its existence, let alone cultivation, is most assuredly far from innocent.

How then, to feel about the fact that it is now my task, imposed by the medical establishment, to effect local control of a breast cancer recurrence by finding the pea. “When it comes back” my surgeon explained patiently, the other day, “it almost always feels like a pea.” Keeping track of the pea is not a new job for me. My family tree is chock-a-block with breast cancer, which is why I have been dutifully going for yearly mammograms since the age of 42.

Little did I know that mammograms are a very unreliable method for tracking early breast cancer in women under the age of 50, and that this lack of accuracy is even more pronounced for women with what are known as “dense breasts” – small, prone to cysts… After all, I had a “good” mammogram just ten months before my cancer was diagnosed. It had been missed the time before. It is also the case that I did not know that MRI’s are considered by some to be a much more reliable tool for detecting early breast cancer in women under 50.

obsessed_with_breasts_small.jpgI wonder about how my chances of finding that pea would be affected by reconstruction. There is a lot of pressure on women to undergo reconstruction after a mastectomy. Audre Lorde talks about this phenomenon in her Cancer Journal. When I went to visit my GP about a week prior to my double mastectomy, she asked me which surgeon was going to do my reconstruction. She guffawed when I told her that I had decided against reconstruction. “You’re in denial” she proclaimed. “I am going to sign you up. The waiting list is two years anyway. By then, you’ll be more than ready.”

Oncological research appears to indicate no impact of reconstruction on detection of recurrence. But there is a clear set of normative assumptions at work in this research, which go something like this: (1) breasts constitute a vital marker of femininity, (2) women will benefit from the restoration, post-mastectomy, of their “spoiled identity” (E. Goffman) and therefore (3) reconstruction should be made widely available to all women undergoing mastectomy.

This is what the official story regarding reconstruction and mastectomy sounds like:

“Deciding on Mastectomy Making the decision to have a mastectomy can be very difficult. It can be hard to imagine living without your breast, and you may feel like your identity or femininity is being threatened. The procedure can often be made easier by having breast reconstruction after mastectomy. This helps to reshape your breast and reduce any disfigurement, and may help you to feel more comfortable choosing mastectomy. Ask you health care provider for more information about this option.”

No where in all of this research are the side effects and complications of reconstruction clearly delineated. Reconstruction surgery involves an initial long and very painful operation followed by several additional surgical procedures. The impression of breasts is created either by means of implants or the use of a woman’s own tissue (abdominal) which is relocated to the chest area.

So what is the medical establishment’s priorities in relation to breast health, cancer, and morbidity amongst women? Clearly, millions, if not billions of dollars is going to the improvement and funding of breast reconstruction. And it is equally obvious that virtually no money is being directed to programs that would improve the reliability of cancer detection in populations at-risk of mammogram failure. Whose job is it, actually, to find that pea? How terribly convenient for medical discourse inappropriately to relocate responsibility to women to find that pea, and in so doing, exaggerate the agency possessed by individual women in determining the likelihood of survival in relation to early stage breast cancer.

What a different world it would be if we decided to spend all of the breast cancer research dollars on the (a) identification (and elimination) of the actual causes of breast cancer, (b) widespread availability of accurate methods of early detection, (c) appropriate methods to deal with post-surgical complications (e.g., lymphedema, which is very common and extraordinarily challenging), and of course, (d) a cure for cancers of all kinds. Hallelujah!