- Melissa Eppard is a 46-year-old who was diagnosed with aggressive breast cancer when she was 36.
- The diagnosis, double mastectomy, chemotherapy and loss of confidence negatively affected her sex life.
- Ten years later, she has slowly learned ways to feel confident in her body.
This essay is based on a conversation with Melissa Eppard, co-founder of Mary at the top. It has been edited for length and clarity.
In 2014, when I was 36, my 3-year-old son was crawling on me and accidentally kicked me in the chest. It really hurt, and then I discovered a lump on my left breast.
At this point, I was between jobs and had no health care. I went through the process of applying for health care under the Affordable Health Care Act, but it took me six months to finally receive my stage one diagnosis of triple negative invasive ductal carcinoma with an inherited BRCA 1 mutation.
Cancer affected my sex life
I was at my new job when the doctor called to tell me the news. I remember being shocked. I crumpled to the floor and sat on the carpet crying. All I could think of were worst case scenarios. I thought about all the people I knew who had died of breast cancer. Would I see my son grow up? How would my husband raise it on his own?
That initial trauma of learning I had cancer dominated my life. I was so scared and stressed all the time. Sex was definitely not on the table.
When it came time for my double mastectomy, I opted for reconstruction after they removed my breasts and assured me that the implants would be safe. Also, at the time, the options provided were only about how I would recreate the chest mounds.
I felt a deep sadness every time I looked at my breasts after reconstruction. It was a memory of this trauma. I didn’t feel sexy at all.
We hugged and didn’t talk about cancer at night
Right after the surgery, I started a round of IVF to freeze my eggs after being told I would lose my fertility going through chemotherapy. As long as I had a uterus, even if my ovaries were removed, I could carry a child, or someone could be a surrogate for us.
When chemotherapy started, I lost all my hair and my period. I felt extremely weak, nauseous and tired.
Even though I often didn’t want to be intimate with my husband, I knew that if I didn’t use it, I would lose it. I knew how important intimacy, not just sex, was to our relationship. So many couples don’t make it through a cancer diagnosis and treatment.
We started gently, with just a little caress. We made a rule not to talk about cancer late into the evening – I had to shut down that conversation so I wouldn’t get triggered.
I rarely felt sexy during these months, which had a huge impact on my confidence during sex. While love making didn’t stop during chemotherapy, it was definitely less energetic and less frequent. Our sex life was hanging by a thread.
I had to become intentional about feeling like myself again
Two years after my mastectomy, I decided to get a beautiful tattoo over my implants. From the disfigured feeling I became rare and exotic. There was no one like me in the world. During intimacy, I could look down at myself and not feel terrified or lost in the trauma again.
The breast implants were giving me more and more pain, so I went back to my original breast surgeon and asked if he could remove the implants and do a flat aesthetic closure instead of the implants. He approached my husband to ask how he would feel about it and told me he would only perform the surgery on someone with body dysmorphia.
I broke away, shocked that he would not consider my pain and distress. I found another doctor who did the surgery. I was surprised at how much freedom and comfort I felt being flat chested.
For years, my desire and sex life were like a stuck car. But now, I feel like my engine is revving. I would never compare my sex life before cancer to now. It would take away the joy of where I am now. I’ve worked hard to get here and I’m not going to dwell on what intimacy once looked like.
I’m still here and my marriage is strong. And I am very grateful.