When I was in hospital I felt the need to constantly take pictures, it was a case of click now paint later. I often thought of Frida Kahlo and how much pain and suffering she endured just to get through the day and I would give myself little pep talks and remind myself to be strong like Frida.
“Is THATreally me” I would whisper to my reflection in the vain hope that I would get a confirming reply. “Yes, you are still part of the planet, still human, still living”.
The day I took this picture I felt like I was standing on the edge of life, like I was vapour not flesh, it was a hard day. I couldn’t listen to music (my great obsession) to distract myself, because my head was spinning ( I don’t get on with morphine, it made makes me itch and twitch). I attempted to distract myself with trashy magazines.
I had been reading New! Magazine and I found a story about Coronation Street’s Helen Flanagan and her unruly cleavage. She was quoted in black letters on a pink background saying “I will never get my boobs out again”. Post breast surgery this hit my like a razor blade between my toes. I couldn’t escape my pain, even my distractions where booby trapped (excuse the awful pun). You and me both, Ms Flanagan I thought, you and me both. The actual cutting from the magazine is glued to the painting, in a vain attempt to somehow document the insanity and authenticity of that moment.
It’s funny when you publish something, put it our there, you never know the context in which it will be received. There where many women on the breast ward that day looking at that NEW! Magazine (we tended to pass things around). I am sure they all noticed that headline too. I love escapism, glitter, gossip, tittle tattle as much as anyone ( I confess I am a horror okay, I have a secret Perez Hilton streak), but viewed through the filter of a cancer ward it all takes on a different gravity.
The media focussing on microscopic details of any given female celebrities form can be really shocking. Particularly for those of us, who are due to multiple surgeries are forever scarred. It is as if the status quo is forever judging us against a perfection that will now, forever allude us. Before surgery we could kid ourselves that one day we’d live up to the template. I genuinely grieved my potential for physical perfection. The crowing weight loss, weight gain headlines, the mistaken outfit stories, the too much botox, looking too haggard stories, they all make the body a battleground. For me it was something of a relief to just accept that I would never qualify by the impossible yardstick. I had to just let it go and to be honest there is a lot of freedom in that.
I’ve also noticed that for some very peculiar reason, films, television and magazines seem to mirror my vulnerability at the most significant times in my life. It’s also always in the most bizarre ways, the boobs headline, a random advertising hoarding, or a programme will jump out at me in a very Jungian way. The evening before I took my first long haul flight for example, there was an airplane disaster movie on TV where hardly anyone survived and they got trapped under the sea. The night before my mastectomy there was a CSI episode involving a Tarot Card Killer who cut off women breasts!! The closing shot of the specific episode ends with a well known rapper turned actor digging up a box, standing in the pit getting ready to lift the lid. You don’t actually see the disembodied breasts, you just see the actor turned rapper opening the box and his face registering the find. I wondered where those lost parts of me had gone? That was difficult and I forgot to ask anyone about that. I fantasised that I had been attacked in a parallel universe by the Tarot Card Killer. I hoped from the darkest part of the ward that the rapper turned actor might rescue me a reunite me with my whole self, sadly it was not to be…………. I think I did mention that morphine does not agree with me.
*This blog is written to support #Breast Cancer Awareness Month 2018 and the Breast Cancer Haven who helped me beat beast cancer in 2008 and in 2011 – along with the incredible team on Worthing Hospital’s Breast Cancer Ward, UK. I am blessed to be well today.
Donate to the Breast Cancer Haven Here
Eugenie Arrowsmith 