12 years ago I had breast cancer. I had a lumpectomy, where the surgeon Dr. R took a section out of my breast about the size of a lemon (with a pea sized tumor inside). So I have a lovely 3 " scar there and the old left breast is definitely smaller than the right. I also have a lovely scar under my left armpit where a 'pad' of lymph nodes were removed so their tiny carcasses could be taken to a lab and checked out for cancer. Probably the same lab my new pea size but encapsulated in a lemon size piece of flesh went. So as they say, 'the girls no longer looked alike'.
It wasn't bad the first few years. But something changed. Having a large right breast might have thrown off my center of gravity. Or because the small left one felt lonely it often tries to shift over and hang out with righty. I have spent oodles of money on special bras to contain the girls. Even a prosthetic which like a booster seat gets that left side a bit higher and in a more normal position. Nothing works. One side is appreciably larger than the other side. Then mother nature steps in and starts th down ward progress of these poor pilgrims.
What is a girl to do? The obvious choice after going through an array of non-surgical one it give in to the dark art of 'plastic' surgery. Which I really never understood why plastic? Has plastic ever really been used in these types of surgeries? And I am not talking the body modification types were some one want bumps on the head to look like budding horns.
I am talking about the surgery that some people seem to be addicted to. The kind that can change your body into something it was never meant to be and sometimes the idea is better than the results. You've seen those people on magazine covers or listened to their woes on TV. They weren't happy with what God gave them so then went out and changed it. Suck some fat from here and stick it back in over there. Get cheek bones implanted, eye lifts, plump lips. spend a fortune to try to look like some one else.
I feel like and older car. I would just like a little body work so I can continue to function. Men have no clue about how uncomfortable bras are and how uncomfortable it can be not to wear a bra. They don't make bras that fit me. I am not sure it my cup size is really a DD or is that just trying to compensate the 2 different breast?
I don't want another operation. I am looking forward to this as much as I would to having a tooth pulled. I do not doubt the skill of my surgeons, or the hospital I will be at or the care of the nurses. I don't want to count my life by operations or illness or pills taken. I want to count my life on a daily basis. That I did a good job at my chosen job, being a wife, a soul mate, the yang to his ying. I have already lost so many days due to migraines. The day of, sometimes the day after. I don't give up my time that easily. We all so little of it. It's okay the bits and pcs can float off on occasion. But whole days in pain, days that are forgotten. I just want to get through this surgery. It has taken me 5 long years to make the decision and now I am 9 days away from it. I'm scared. This time around I don't have Gracie to hold onto. My little dog who went through so much with me. I don't have her ear to whisper my fears into. I just have this laptop, this keyboard. I'm scared. I found the first time around that you can have your loved ones waiting for you, you can have prayers said for you, but it's still you going under the knife and you waking up in who knows what kind of pain. That's scary. You have to live inside your own head and think about best/worse scenarios. Oh and there are some beauts inside my twisted little skull. Ending up like the hunchback with boobs on my back. Heavens how did they get back there? Or like some fat old lady the just forgot where she put them. 'Honey could you look in the back closet? I know I let them somewhere. How about under the couch?' My mind runs amok among the improbable, the unlikely, the twisted, even the dying on the table. 'Sorry sir but her heart gave out.'
And after the original operation I ended back in the hospital a couple of time with massive infections from who knows where cause the doctors did seem to have a clue. Just kept getting bags of antibiotics poured into my veins. And personally my veins don't like their space invaded. They collapse and try to hide. That is not a lot of fun.
I will have it done, but meanwhile the little creatures are crawling around inside my head pulling this string and that. Taking out the crayons and drawing pictures on the backside of my eyes that are totally unpleasant. And do you think somewhere on the damn internet I could find serious pictures of what a breast reconstruction looks like? NO! Just a bunch of women showing the world their really small to gigantic boobs. I want to see real life boobs that have undergone this procedure. Then I will feel better. But for now, me and the saggy, baggy lopsided boobs are heading off to la-la land. Maybe the answers are in my dreams and maybe not. But its worth a shot. Night all!!!!
It wasn't bad the first few years. But something changed. Having a large right breast might have thrown off my center of gravity. Or because the small left one felt lonely it often tries to shift over and hang out with righty. I have spent oodles of money on special bras to contain the girls. Even a prosthetic which like a booster seat gets that left side a bit higher and in a more normal position. Nothing works. One side is appreciably larger than the other side. Then mother nature steps in and starts th down ward progress of these poor pilgrims.
What is a girl to do? The obvious choice after going through an array of non-surgical one it give in to the dark art of 'plastic' surgery. Which I really never understood why plastic? Has plastic ever really been used in these types of surgeries? And I am not talking the body modification types were some one want bumps on the head to look like budding horns.
I am talking about the surgery that some people seem to be addicted to. The kind that can change your body into something it was never meant to be and sometimes the idea is better than the results. You've seen those people on magazine covers or listened to their woes on TV. They weren't happy with what God gave them so then went out and changed it. Suck some fat from here and stick it back in over there. Get cheek bones implanted, eye lifts, plump lips. spend a fortune to try to look like some one else.
I feel like and older car. I would just like a little body work so I can continue to function. Men have no clue about how uncomfortable bras are and how uncomfortable it can be not to wear a bra. They don't make bras that fit me. I am not sure it my cup size is really a DD or is that just trying to compensate the 2 different breast?
I don't want another operation. I am looking forward to this as much as I would to having a tooth pulled. I do not doubt the skill of my surgeons, or the hospital I will be at or the care of the nurses. I don't want to count my life by operations or illness or pills taken. I want to count my life on a daily basis. That I did a good job at my chosen job, being a wife, a soul mate, the yang to his ying. I have already lost so many days due to migraines. The day of, sometimes the day after. I don't give up my time that easily. We all so little of it. It's okay the bits and pcs can float off on occasion. But whole days in pain, days that are forgotten. I just want to get through this surgery. It has taken me 5 long years to make the decision and now I am 9 days away from it. I'm scared. This time around I don't have Gracie to hold onto. My little dog who went through so much with me. I don't have her ear to whisper my fears into. I just have this laptop, this keyboard. I'm scared. I found the first time around that you can have your loved ones waiting for you, you can have prayers said for you, but it's still you going under the knife and you waking up in who knows what kind of pain. That's scary. You have to live inside your own head and think about best/worse scenarios. Oh and there are some beauts inside my twisted little skull. Ending up like the hunchback with boobs on my back. Heavens how did they get back there? Or like some fat old lady the just forgot where she put them. 'Honey could you look in the back closet? I know I let them somewhere. How about under the couch?' My mind runs amok among the improbable, the unlikely, the twisted, even the dying on the table. 'Sorry sir but her heart gave out.'
And after the original operation I ended back in the hospital a couple of time with massive infections from who knows where cause the doctors did seem to have a clue. Just kept getting bags of antibiotics poured into my veins. And personally my veins don't like their space invaded. They collapse and try to hide. That is not a lot of fun.
I will have it done, but meanwhile the little creatures are crawling around inside my head pulling this string and that. Taking out the crayons and drawing pictures on the backside of my eyes that are totally unpleasant. And do you think somewhere on the damn internet I could find serious pictures of what a breast reconstruction looks like? NO! Just a bunch of women showing the world their really small to gigantic boobs. I want to see real life boobs that have undergone this procedure. Then I will feel better. But for now, me and the saggy, baggy lopsided boobs are heading off to la-la land. Maybe the answers are in my dreams and maybe not. But its worth a shot. Night all!!!!
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