Nothing can prepare a woman for the physical (and emotional) wounds sustained after surgical battle with breast cancer. No matter how many pre-op photos are reviewed, pages of literature read, or first-person stories heard, it's simply impossible to be ready for what's about to come.
And, when leaving the hospital with a dopey brain and mummy-wrapped chest, it is still possible to delude yourself a little while longer into believing that it's "probably not that bad." But then the time comes -- the Big Reveal. The gauze is slowly unwrapped and as the last strand falls aside all you can do is stare. Your mind is empty and numb as you slowly begin to comprehend that the bloody mess reflecting back is your chest. No cut, scrape, break or bruise you ever sustained in life changed you like this one. Part of your identity as a woman has been ripped away. You are horror stricken at the viciousness of both the physical and emotional attack on your body. You weep. If you are lucky, someone is standing there with you who lovingly whispers, "It's going to be o.k."
