In late November I was diagnosed with ductal carcinoma in situ (DCIS) in my right breast. I am one of 60,000+ women who are diagnosed with this type of breast cancer each year.

Good news: DCIS is always stage 0, it's non-invasive, and it's treatable. Mine also happens to be grade 1 (the lowest grade), and was removed during a surgical biopsy.

Not bad news, but: I am now in the Cancer Industrial Complex (said with slight amusement) with its myriad appointments, scans, tests, and decisions to be made re treatment, additional surgery, radiation, medication, etc. in order to prevent recurrence.

At my first appointment with a medical oncologist (who's like the general contractor of the CIC) a few weeks ago, she was shocked at how my breast looks post-surgery and declared it "severely deformed."

It morphed from looking like a deflated balloon right after surgery, to becoming large and buoyant (due to normal fluid retention), to now being a small, hard, shriveled up, deeply creviced...weird little appendage that could cause issues moving forward. I swear it changes every day.

With each and every appointment and consultation, it became clearer and clearer what my choice of treatment would be: double mastectomy. That might seem like a drastic decision for something that is not immediately life threatening, and which could be treated with radiation and estrogen blockers.

But even before I knew the breast would have to removed because of how damaged it had become, my gut was whispering: no radiation...no estrogen blockers.

After a consultation with a surgeon who's specialty is breast oncology, she agreed. Given how severely deformed my right breast has become, for me there really is no choice but to have it removed, rather than zapping it with radiation (which would make it worse).

When I considered life without my right breast, but having to take an estrogen blocker (like Tamoxifen) for five to 10 years to protect my left breast, the decision was easy.

After learning about the ins and outs of various types of reconstruction, that was also an easy "no thank you."

So no radiation, no estrogen blockers, no reconstruction, and no more mammograms.

I am at peace with this decision.

Being at peace with it doesn't preclude sadness, grief, fear, anger, or the feeling that "shit is getting real." I have also felt deep gratitude, awe, and yes, joy. This is flourishing.

And while shame has been present at various points of this journey, it no longer clouds my ability to make decisions, to hold the both/and, the nuance, and the complexity of being a human.

Plot twist:

The surgery has been scheduled for March 3, which would be right in the middle of the first month of Shame School. For that reason, I have pushed the start dates for both cohorts out a month to March 18 and March 20. If you're already enrolled, you should have received a separate email from me.

Learn more about Shame School here.

Much, much love,

Karen

What participants say about Shame School:

"I now know that I can work with my shame ... and that I don't need to wallow in it. I consistently use the 6 N's to work through my shame. Your openness about your own experience ... and your willingness to be a real human with us was a delightful surprise. It was so refreshing. I loved the closeness of the group. You created a beautiful, safe container." ~ Alesia Napier

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