How My Mastectomy-Scar Tattoo Helped Me Heal

Erin Burnett, 36, got a tattoo of her mastectomy scar more than three years after she was diagnosed with stage II, triple positive, invasive ductal carcinoma at age 28. breast cancer treatment and the mastectomy she needed to save her life took a huge toll on her confidence. For years, she didn't feel like her body belonged to her, and her scars simply reminded her of the trauma she'd endured. But when she realized she could get a tattoo over the scars to remind her of what she had lost, everything changed. Here, Burnett reveals how her mastectomy scar tattoo helped her regain her confidence and take back her body.

When I was diagnosed with breast cancer, it was metastasized to my lymph nodes, and my skin was damaged during radiation treatment, limiting my options breast reconstruction.

I chose one of the few reconstruction options offered to me using the so-called “tissue expanders“, which are installed to increase the amount of tissue remaining to support the future breast implant. Little did I know that my body would reject the resistance bands; I've had them removed and replaced several times, and I've tried five times to get them repaired. While recovering from one of my most recent hospitalizations and failures, I came across these beautiful mastectomy tattoos online that I had never considered as an option before. I did some research and found an organization called Personal ink on Facebook and found out I could apply for a free mastectomy scar tattoo.

I decided to go for it and told myself that if I was elected, I would stop trying to make the resistance bands work. I was overjoyed when I got the call that I had been selected; I felt like I was on Oprah. During my next surgery, my dilators were removed and not replaced.

Soon I was matched with the artist, Sal Tinowho was kind enough to donate his time and talent for my tattoo. I told him that I love peonies and have always been fascinated by the way they open up when they bloom. I sent him photos of these flowers and told him I wanted a vibrant watercolor style image and he worked with me to bring it to life.

I remember the overall experience of getting the tattoo more than the pain that accompanied it. I walked into the tattoo shop that day in October 2019 and was greeted by volunteers and local leaders with wonderful big smiles. There were other recipients there who had gone through a similar journey, and they looked just as worried and scared as I was.

“The tattoo I chose crawls up my shoulder and I always tell people, 'My cleavage is prettier than yours.'

We let our guard down with each other that day. As we grew closer during our travels, I felt like in just one day I had made lifelong friendships with some of them, creating a new type of family. We toasted with champagne before we pulled out our needles and then parted ways with our tattoo artists, with whom we would spend at least eight hours that day. All the mirrors in the room were covered with black paper, so we didn’t see the finished product until the end.

While some people are numb from previous surgeries and can dissociate during the tattoo process, I couldn't. I felt everything. Lying on your back in the same position you were in when you were injured can be very traumatic and emotional. mastectomy. Your body has emotional muscle memory to remember what happened to you the last time you were in this position. It was hard to be there again, considering that the last time I laid there like that, my primary surgeon held my hand and told me she was going to go and remove all the cancer from my body. But I overcame it by telling myself, “Today I can get my body back. Cancer will not have the last word today. Follow me today.” At the end of the day, everyone surrounded me to hear my revelation. I stood in front of the mirror, the blanket was thrown over it, and I unbuttoned the shawl, seeing it for the first time. I cried and was in absolute awe, absorbing all the positivity and emotions around me.

To be honest, I was shocked. For the first time in a long time, I was excited to see my body. When you're going through surgeries, radiation, and infections, what you see when you look in the mirror can be scary. It brings back painful memories and is a constant reminder of what you have been through. But my tattoo made me feel confident in a way I haven't felt since my mastectomy in May 2016.

Today, because of this, I keep my head up. The tattoo I chose crawls up my shoulder and I always tell people, “My cleavage is prettier than yours.” I let it hang out and I have a lot of questions. People tell me, “Wow, your tattoo is really cool.” And I can proudly tell them: “It’s much more than you think.” I can take off my shirt and show them all the tattoo and all the scars. I've had a lot of muscle and tissue removed and I'm a little deformed, but it's all covered in this beautiful peony. Now it's almost like battle wounds that I show to the world.

This tattoo changed my life. I used to go through this dark and painful period. I overcame what everyone thought was the hardest part, which was active treatment. But, in my opinion, active treatment was easier; you take it day by day. You appear; you are undergoing chemotherapy, radiation therapy and surgery. You just need it. But healing and trying to feel comfortable with the person you later became is difficult. People tell you, “You're okay now, right?” But you don’t, neither emotionally nor mentally. You have a shell of a body that doesn't seem like yours. And you're just expected to walk the streets and be the woman you used to be, but that's not the case. You are different and you need to somehow find comfort in your own skin. You'll have to love your body again because it's not the same anymore. The artwork helped me do that and be proud of my body again. I suddenly became different. I didn't cover myself up or hunch over to hide my breasts. I had my shoulders back and walked high. It changed who I was. My family and my children, little boys who you think don't notice, might even say that I am happier. Now when I look in the mirror, I don't see ugly scars – I see beautiful works of art and courage.

This interview has been condensed for length and clarity.

Molly Longman is a freelance journalist who loves telling stories at the intersection of health and politics.