I know this is a long story and I apologize about that. This is the story of my life for the past year. I posted this in /r/TwoXChromosomes a few days ago and my inbox was flooded with hate mail. I was personally attacked for writing this and told by many women that I am the most selfish person in the world.

About one year ago my girlfriend was diagnosed with breast cancer. During a routine mammogram the doctors detected what they called stage zero DCIS. My first thoughts were detecting any cancer at stage zero is a good thing. The doctors assured us that she had nothing to worry about because it was detected so early. They recommended a simple lumpectomy (remove the small effected area). After the lumpectomy the tissue was sent for additional testing. The additional testing showed that the mammogram did not show enough and the cancer was larger than they thought. The next recommended step was a double mastectomy. The full removal of both breast is a very big emotional blow for any woman.

 

Less than a week after having a double mastectomy she developed massive infections on her very long incisions. These infections turned into a fight for her life. The infection caused her wounds to not heal at all. Eventually the wounds fully opened as if the doctors just ripped her breast off and never stitched her back up. The wounds looked like something from a civil war movie. She had two open hatchet wounds on her chest full of puss and dead flesh. One of the wounds was bottomless and able to envelope a gloved finger down to the last knuckle. My perception of modern medicine has forever been altered.

 

She needed home care treatment for these wounds. The doctors said she needed to have her wounds cleaned and repacked three times a day. Our insurance would only cover one home care nurse visit per day. I learned how to be a wound care nurse. The nurses that came to our house showed me how to do everything. Eventually I became better than the nurses because I was able to see a variety of wound care techniques from various nurses that came to our house. I took the best methods from all of them and made my own technique. I received high praise from her doctors on our weekly visits as they unpacked my work. Even with insurance she was charged a sixty dollars copay per home care nurse visit. Eventually home care was canceled and I became my girlfriends sole support for wound care.

 

We live in a tiny one room studio apartment about the size of a two car garage. There are no interior walls it is just one small open space. The little area we have around the bed was converted into a makeshift doctors office. My sleeping area looks like a small wound care clinic with various supply's stacked to the ceiling. My day starts by waking up early in the morning so that I have time to care for her wounds before I go to work. It takes me well over an hour to preform our procedure. I begin by sterilizing my work surfaces, sterilizing myself, soaking bandages, cutting tape, and preparing absorbent dry gauze. I begin by unpacking her wounds. As I pull the gauze from inside her body I must smell them before throwing it away. I put them close to my nose and deeply inhale. These are usually covered in blood and slime. I have learned to detect infections early by smell. I can identify a specific type of infection called pseudomonas by its smell. After the tedious procedure of repacking is complete I make her some food and then give her a wet wipe bath before I go to work.

 

I am a construction worker and I do a lot of manual labor outside in the Florida heat. On my lunch break I drive back home to repeat the procedure. I have to shower before I begin work on her because my body is covered in dirt and construction debris. I come home from work with dirt and fiberglass in every crack of my body. After I repack her wounds I give her a sandwich and return to work.

 

When I am done working for the day I come home to repeat my procedure yet again. I am exhausted and weary deep down to my bones. Sometimes I feel like I don't have the strength to carry on. My skin burns from the fiberglass, my eyes sting from sweat, my muscles ache, I am dehydrated, and I reek of dirt and sweat. I am forty years old and all these years of work are taking a toll on my body. No matter how tired I am I never give up because I love her.

 

I have two wonderful children that come to visit me every other weekend. We have very little precious time together and like most weekend daddy's I try to make the most of it. My girlfriend still requires three wound changes a day even on the weekends. Our studio apartment is tiny and has no walls. When the kids are here I use duck tape and bed sheets to make a wall so the children do not see her wound care. I set the kids up with cartoons, toys, juice boxes, and snacks before I banish them to the other side of the bed sheet wall. Without fail every time midway through the procedure they start screaming for me to come play with them. They start jumping up and down on the couch demanding to know what is going on behind the tent. My girlfriend watches the tent wall for peeking children while I work on her. I calm them down by singing them childrens songs as I preform my gruesome work. I tell my kids that I am sorry but daddy cant play right now because somebody else needs him. On one occasion my youngest son needed to use the bathroom during this process. I pleaded with him to give me more time because I was almost done. The one bathroom we have was on my side of the tent. He asked to use the bathroom again and I told him that if he could hold it for a few more minutes I would buy them ice cream when I was done. My kid shit his pants because I was focused on her wounds.

 

She has had four surgeries this past year for breast cancer and breast reconstruction. All of them have resulted in infections. The past year of my life has been devoted to her care. Every night I lay down and sleep next to a woman that has not been able to take a shower for the past three months. At times her infection was so bad that it smelled like we had a dead animal in our apartment. I have never stopped loving her or stopped taking care of her. I drive her to all her doctors appointments and talk to the doctors. At times I have pushed her around in a wheelchair and wiped her ass. I take constant inventory of our medical supplies and restock as necessary. She is my other full time job.

 

A few weeks ago my girlfriend was contacted on Facebook by a group doing a project for breast cancer. Local artist are going to do nude paintings of bodies that have been through the trauma of breast cancer. She was told the purpose of this project is to show how complex breast cancer is because of the misconception that breast cancer is simply a free boob job. This all sounds good to me and I don't have a problem with this project at all. I support this project.

 

Last week she went to meet with the artist that would be doing the painting. The artist told my girlfriend that there would be an exhibit of all the paintings. The theme of the exhibit will be about how women with breast cancer have been devalued by society because men objectify women by only valuing them for their body. They are saying “men do not support women with breast cancer” because we only value women for their breast. My girlfriend is excited about the project so of course I will support her, but after all the shit have been through this feels like a slap to my face.

 

I can only envision me standing in a art gallery all dressed up and pretending to be someone other than a construction worker. Holding a wine glass with my pinkie held high and surrounded my girlfriends circle of friends. Her circle of friends are the highly educated, academia, college professor, and artsy crowd. We will all be looking at paintings of my naked girlfriend hanging on the walls and I will be pretending this is not awkward. People will be patting her on the back and giving her condolences. There will probably be a speech about how men objectify women because we only value women for their body. I will just sit there and take it with stoicism because because I love my girlfriend.

 

The battle for breast cancer has many brave women on the front lines. Some lose their lives and others become permanently disfigured. Women are the true heroes in this war, but behind the front lines stands an army of men supporting these women. An army of men that have seen their share of blood and guts.

 

I don't want be seen as someone who objectifies women. I think I have earned the right to be seen as someone that supports breast cancer.