‘It’s this perfect storm of stealing your femininity.’
Whitney Johnson was diagnosed with breast cancer at 36.
Whitney Johnson, now 38, in Portland, Ore.
Leah Nash for The New York Times
My boyfriend found it. He could feel a lump. I have a family history, so I didn’t sit on it.
Going into this, I was trying to figure out where I was in my relationship. I was trying to figure out where I was in my career. And I was about to lose all my hair, cut off my breasts, and I might not have estrogen ever again. It’s this perfect storm of stealing your femininity when you’re supposed to be feeling at your height of womanhood.
I have so many obnoxious selfies from the two weeks between getting diagnosed and starting chemo. I felt beautiful at that moment. I knew it was all going to go away.
I held this silly, weird ceremony before I cut my hair. I read a few things. Friends came over and staged the place with flowers. Then they all came with me when I got my hair cut.
I don’t think it’s easy to get cancer when you’re 75, either. But what I’m jealous of is where you have gotten to in your relationship at that point, hopefully. I was still at the phase of, I don’t want you to see this. I want you to think I’m sexy.
We were not in the place in our relationship that tolerated that amount of neediness. One weekend, I was pretty sick. I was texting him, but he was at a cabin partying with his friends. I’m sure he would have wanted to be there for me, but he couldn’t. He was like, “I need a break.” I was like, “I might die: Talk to me about that.”
I can look back and see, he did deserve a break. His life changed a ton, too, and I don’t think his friends were in a position to adequately support him.
Having this breast reconstruction has been one of the hardest lasting parts. Every time I’m intimate, I can’t feel my breasts. That takes me out of it in a heartbeat. Something that used to be so intimate now is such a large cause of pain.
I ended up drying some of the flowers from that little ceremony. At some point when I have this feeling of, this is OK, I’m OK, I want to sprinkle them into a fire, or just release them.
