In this as-told-to, Isabelle Lenchewski, a 46-year-old woman in New York, talks about pursuing a long-dreamed-of tattoo over her new chest after her preventative double-mastectomy.
When my dad had cancer, I got tested for BRCA. He had pancreatic cancer and there was a trial they were considering for him, and he needed to be tested because it was related to whether he’d be eligible. That’s how we found out he had BRCA. I got tested pretty much right away; my dad even came with me to the genetic testing.
I was 30 or 31. When I found out I had BRCA, I had the conversation about mastectomy and oophorectomy, and I knew I was going to have my ovaries and fallopian tubes out. I did not anticipate that I was going to have the mastectomy. So I did scans for ten years before I decided in my mid-40s to do the mastectomy.
With nipple preservation, for me, it would have added an [additional] initial surgery, which meant pushing back the mastectomy. Once I decided to do [the mastectomy], I just wanted to do it and get it done. With nipple preservation, there’s not a 100% chance that it’ll work. I understand why lots of women do it. For me, that wasn’t appealing if I don’t have feeling in my nipple. So I opted not to do it.
I started Googling right away: ‘What kind of art tattoos do people get on a mastectomy? Is that a thing?’ And I found this image pretty quickly that I loved and saved in my phone before I even had my surgery. I’ve had this image in my phone for three years.
I also connected with this organization called FORCE (Facing Hereditary Cancer Empowered). They’re national, and they do a lot of support and provide resources around hereditary or genetic mutations. Through them, they have a program where, if you’re interested, they can connect you with a peer mentor. They try to match you with someone who’s been through as close to your journey as possible. They connected me with this woman who lives in Texas, Carrie, and we spoke a few times on the phone. I was telling her about my idea about the art piece instead of doing nipple preservation, and she had also had it. When she sent me a picture: it was the exact one I had found.
Isabelle at the tattoo parlor. Photo courtesy of P.Ink.
For a mastectomy tattoo, you need someone who has experience specifically with scar tissue. In my research, I came across Personal Ink (P.ink), which is under an umbrella organization called Fuck Cancer. They have an event once a year in October, and you have to be two years out from your surgery because you need to be healed enough. My healing was delayed because I had very thin skin, so I kept reopening my incision. It was an extra year of procedures. So I’m actually now three years out from my mastectomy, and I had to wait a while, which was annoying because I was really eager to wrap this up and cover everything with a tattoo.
I finally hit the two-year mark of healing, and it was maybe the beginning of September. I went back to see when the next event was, and it was in October. You put in an application and send the images that appeal to you and your location, because P.ink does the event all across the country. They have tattoo artists who volunteer their time to do the tattoo. They try to match you with an artist in your area whose style matches what you want. You have to wait four to six weeks after you put in an application for them to let you know if they were able to match you. If not, you reapply next year.
I got a text one night from this woman who was like, ‘You got selected.’ I did not expect to be as excited as I was. I felt like someone called me and told me I won the lottery. It was really exciting. The artist was local, he was in Manhattan, where I live.
The event is really cool. I think there were eight or nine of us total. They set up a dinner on Saturday night before so anyone who wanted to come to dinner to meet each other could. A few of the women had traveled in from Maryland and New Jersey, and other not-so-local places. Everyone came with their husbands and boyfriends. I brought my friend Reza. I went to the dinner and got to meet some of the women, and I felt a little self-conscious because I never actually had cancer. Sometimes when I’m in spaces where everyone’s been through treatment, I feel like I’m taking up space that someone else deserves more. I talked about that with one of the women there, and she was like, ‘You went through the mastectomy. You are here and should be.’ It was nice to meet the night before.
Isabelle with her new chest tattoo. Photo courtesy of P.Ink.
The day of the event was at Hustle Butter Tattoo Shop, downtown by Housing Works. We went there in the morning. They gave us breakfast. We came with our guests. We had an opening ceremony where we all stood in a circle, introduced ourselves, and shared whatever we wanted about our story. Then we got started. It was beautiful.
The tattooing was probably five hours total. Everyone went to their cot with their artist. They initially told us that our guests probably wouldn’t be able to stay, but they didn’t end up asking anyone to leave.
I was the first one to start. I was the first one, so I took a deep breath and took my shirt off. Soon after, everyone else did. It was five hours in a tattoo shop where all these women were walking around topless, smiling at each other, supporting and encouraging each other while getting their tattoos, while all the husbands and boyfriends were eyes to the ground, looking very uncomfortable, not wanting to look up or make contact with anyone’s body—except my friend Reza, who’s a gay man.
My tattoo is a floral image. I love the asymmetry. The tattoo artist, Lior, I was connected with through this event, through P.ink (Personal Ink), asked me what kind of flowers I wanted. I ended up thinking about what flowers are meaningful to me, and that is how he created something that looks similar to that [original image] but is more personal for me. I picked a daffodil, which stands for rebirth and new beginnings. And then I picked the gladiolus. So I have a daffodil on my shoulder, and I have a gladiolus on each side. That is the August birth flower. My dad’s birthday is in August, and it also stands for resilience, perseverance, and strength.
It wasn’t my first tattoo; I have three small tattoos. The first tattoo I ever got was my dad’s signature on my arm. My dad would probably not love me covered in tattoos, but they do feel very meaningful to my relationship with him. This was my first big piece, the whole thing.
There was a good amount of floral [tattoo choices], but it wasn’t everyone. Some people already had tattoos, and they designed their mastectomy tattoo to connect to something that was previously there. It was mostly different versions of flowers for different meanings and reasons. Someone got a dragon.
It makes me so fucking happy. Every single time I look at it, I get this big smile. It’s so beautiful. Sometimes I find myself just touching it, feeling it. My tattoo did get infected, which was a really big bummer. It really hurt, and I [had to take] antibiotics. It turned out it was the same thing that happened after my surgery; my skin is so thin that it just struggled to heal well.
My other tattoos are tiny. This is massive, and it’s across my entire chest. I knew I wanted it, but there was still some doubt—like, is this going to work out the way I want it to? The women who coordinate the event were very firm that nobody’s ever been unhappy with their tattoo. They’ve been doing these events since 2015.
A little part of me thought, someone’s going to be the one, and it might be me. But they’re completely right. Up until now, I’d been looking in the mirror and seeing scars, and I hated it. Now I look in the mirror and I see something so beautiful. It just makes me so happy.
Isabelle is a psychotherapist in Manhattan seeing clients in person and virtually. She works with individuals, couples and families and is in the process of starting two groups for those dealing with chronic illness, one for adolescents and one for adults. You can find more about her practice and her approach here.
