Completely Exposed

Terri Wingham is the founder and CEO of A Fresh Chapter, a cancer survivor, and someone who believes that we are not defined by the most difficult aspects of our story.

Written by Terri Wingham | February 11, 2011

What makes your stomach free fall? Is it when you tell someone that you love him and you don’t know if you will hear it back? When you slide your resignation letter across the desk and it hits you that you don’t have a solid plan for the future? When you stare into the face of your new baby and wonder how you will ever keep him safe? Maybe you lean in and embrace this vulnerability or maybe, you prefer to fold this feeling neatly into a blue Rubbermaid container and slide it under your bed so that you can pretend it doesn’t exist.

I spent the first 30 years of my life hiding my vulnerabilities under my magic cape of over-achievement. I figured that if I obsessively controlled my environment, my career, and my relationships that maybe no one (including me) would notice the intense desire for love and belonging that bubbled below the surface. Cancer chipped through my tidy illusions of perfection and left me completely exposed, both emotionally and physically. My recent surgery served as yet another reminder of how intense vulnerability can feel…

January 24, 2011 – I push my IV stand through the swinging doors of the room and shuffle reluctantly towards the operating table. A nurse wearing a garish, multicolored scrub cap asks me to introduce myself to the other two nurses and explain the purpose of my upcoming surgery. I stumble on the words as if it’s a pop quiz and I don’t remember that I am here for the second stage of my breast reconstruction following my mastectomy last May.

Her far too chipper voice then instructs me to hand over my hospital issued housecoat. I try to simultaneously remove it and hold the back of my gown together as a draft sweeps across my rear end. She ignores my attempts at modesty as she tugs at the hem of the gown and tells me to release the tie around my neck. I slide my completely exposed backside into position on the table and then swing my legs up so that I can lie flat on its unforgiving surface.

The nurse unsnaps the sleeves of the gown and I watch goose bumps rise like a wave of dominoes from my shoulder to my wrist. She covers me with a thin sheet as she takes away my last piece of clothing. I ask her how her team stays warm during surgery with temperatures so icy that I can almost see my breath. She reassures me that the lights give off plenty of heat. I look up at the massive spotlights that will soon turn my exposed flesh into a college football stadium on a Friday night. Dr. L has already used jiffy marker to map out the ‘plays’ for this upcoming game across my chest.

I turn my gaze to the side and see the straps that will hold down my left arm during surgery. I don’t need to look to know that my right arm will be restrained as well.  The nurse sees the terror on my face and suggests that she take my glasses so that I can close my eyes. Unfortunately the sounds of the room still clatter into my ears as plastic packages are ripped open and stainless steel instruments bump up against each other.

The anesthesiologist finally lumbers into the room and asks in a jovial voice if I’m nervous. I nod as my lower lip wobbles. His booming laugh grates against me as he says that I can’t get nervous otherwise he’ll get nervous. I don’t smile. I just silently plead with him to hurry up. Finally, a syringe full of milky white fluid plunges into my IV and he instructs me to take deep breaths into the oxygen mask he places over my nose and mouth. I inhale the smell of plastic and intensely fresh air before everything fades to black…

Maybe you haven’t recently had the opportunity to lie naked on an operating table under flood lights, but I am sure you can relate to feeling exposed, either physically or emotionally, by an event in your life. How did you handle that experience? What do you think about the idea that it takes courage to be imperfect and that we need to let go of who we think we are in order to embrace who we really are? A couple of months ago, a friend sent me a link to a TED Talk (by Dr. Brene Brown) about vulnerability and the ideas mentioned above. I really loved what she had to say about shame, imperfection, and worthiness and have included it below. I also follow her blog Ordinary Courage, which includes links to her books, DVDs, and talks.

Be Sociable, Share!
Comments (4)
  • Nicola • February 18, 2011

    Thank you for all that you share, expose, teach and give.
    I have, many days, taken time from my crazy world, and sit here at my desk in my office with staff whizzing by me, to read, savour, learn, laugh and cry with you.
    I have never followed a blog before. I am so glad I have the opportunity to enjoy yours.
    Go to Africa. You will never be the same. I guarantee it. Love Nicola Lawson

  • Terri Wingham • February 18, 2011

    Nicola,
    Thank you so much for your comment. I appreciate you taking the time to share with me and I can’t wait to bring you along with me to Africa! Take good care of yourself. Terri

  • Shauna Harper • February 25, 2011

    Wow Terry.. just had a chance to read and watch the Ted clip. LOVE HER ! Thanks for sharing. Feeling all the emotions keeps us alive. That’s probably why illness is such a powerful healer of our souls. Vulnerability and living imperfectly – Love it!

  • Terri Wingham • February 25, 2011

    Thanks Shauna,
    I thought you might like it. I really enjoyed her book, “The Gifts of Imperfection”, if you have the chance to get your hands on a copy. My new mantra has become, “I am enough”. Have a great weekend.
    Terri

Get A Fresh Chapter Updates