A year ago I made a decision to have a body altering operation. When I had breast cancer 12 years ago the concern was getting the cancer out and not how my breasts looked afterwards. And I lived with that. Not always comfortably, but I was still alive. It came to my attention a few years ago that breast reconstruction would be covered under my insurance as part and parcel of my cancer treatment. And it didn't matter how long after the surgery it was, this 'cosmetic' procedure would be covered. My hubby and could have never been able to afford it otherwise.
You would think it was a no brainer. Fix the size difference? And we aren't talking a little difference. I had bought special bras even a prosthetic. But I was never really comfortable. And the longer out from the original surgery the worse it got. Mother nature and gravity were not being kind.
But surgery is a big step. Nothing to just jump into if you have a choice. Even if it a quality of life choice. It is a risk, a danger and damn it can hurt.
I am 4 days out from my bilateral reduction mammoplasty or 'boob job'. After surgery I closed down the recovery room. I was the first one in surgery that morning and the last one out of recovery and I was far from being recovered. So I was moved to the 3rd floor which in my state of mind had the ominous sound of the last place you stopped before the morgue. I had no problem that they wanted to send me home. Now-a-days the less time in a hospital the better. But I didn't feel good. Really not good at all. My reaction to the anesthetic this time was completely different than my previous 2 operations. Nausea was my companion. Constant, overwhelming and only leaving during those time were I fell asleep. Pulling me back out of the depths of sleep to hit me again and again in waves. Unable to vomit because of the lack of food and unwilling to start dry heaving this went on for hours. I was out of surgery at 2 p.m. but unable to leave the hospital till 9 p.m. But finally some cracker and ice cream made it through and quelled (if only temporarily) the urge to toss my cookies.
Today I woke up at 4 a.m. I missed most of the weekend in a fog of nausea (oh yea, it came back), painkillers and sleeping. Yes I was functioning, on FB, even talking to friends on the phone. But I wasn't me. I had big breasts. Okay, one was big and the other not so much. But they were mine. Now I have small breasts. Uniform in size. As symmetrical as two parts on one body should be. There are lots of stitches. My incision goes from armpit to armpit and goes up and around the aureoles. (My surgeon told my hubby I have 3 feet of stitch material in me.) I have so much surgical tape holding the incisions together (I think of me as a badly wrapped package, lots o'tape) as a secondary (and precautionary) measure that at this point in time I just want to start removing them.
I admit I have been looking at them, these breasts. And I finally am learning to accept them. They are part of how I look now. The word perky floats around a lot with these new fixtures. I haven't been perky, well I am not sure I was ever perky. Not in thought, word, deed or look. But now I have perky right up front and attached to my chest.
I will have to do some work on my belly and waist now and no, I don't mean more surgery. I can achieve some sort of change on my own through diet and exercise in those regions. But I could do nothing with my breasts.
But this morning as the sun has rose shining it's gold and pink light through the bare branches of the November skyline I realized how lucky I am. I have come through to the other side. Finally, gratefully and gracefully (I hope) accepting a gift handed to me. I received a similar gift 12 years ago when my cancer was found, I was given my life through surgery and radiation. Now I have been given a renewal to that life. An encouragement to continue with walking down this dirt road. Not to give up. Never to give up.
So as soon as the okay is given I will start walking again. Who knows where this dirt road will take me?
You would think it was a no brainer. Fix the size difference? And we aren't talking a little difference. I had bought special bras even a prosthetic. But I was never really comfortable. And the longer out from the original surgery the worse it got. Mother nature and gravity were not being kind.
But surgery is a big step. Nothing to just jump into if you have a choice. Even if it a quality of life choice. It is a risk, a danger and damn it can hurt.
I am 4 days out from my bilateral reduction mammoplasty or 'boob job'. After surgery I closed down the recovery room. I was the first one in surgery that morning and the last one out of recovery and I was far from being recovered. So I was moved to the 3rd floor which in my state of mind had the ominous sound of the last place you stopped before the morgue. I had no problem that they wanted to send me home. Now-a-days the less time in a hospital the better. But I didn't feel good. Really not good at all. My reaction to the anesthetic this time was completely different than my previous 2 operations. Nausea was my companion. Constant, overwhelming and only leaving during those time were I fell asleep. Pulling me back out of the depths of sleep to hit me again and again in waves. Unable to vomit because of the lack of food and unwilling to start dry heaving this went on for hours. I was out of surgery at 2 p.m. but unable to leave the hospital till 9 p.m. But finally some cracker and ice cream made it through and quelled (if only temporarily) the urge to toss my cookies.
Today I woke up at 4 a.m. I missed most of the weekend in a fog of nausea (oh yea, it came back), painkillers and sleeping. Yes I was functioning, on FB, even talking to friends on the phone. But I wasn't me. I had big breasts. Okay, one was big and the other not so much. But they were mine. Now I have small breasts. Uniform in size. As symmetrical as two parts on one body should be. There are lots of stitches. My incision goes from armpit to armpit and goes up and around the aureoles. (My surgeon told my hubby I have 3 feet of stitch material in me.) I have so much surgical tape holding the incisions together (I think of me as a badly wrapped package, lots o'tape) as a secondary (and precautionary) measure that at this point in time I just want to start removing them.
I admit I have been looking at them, these breasts. And I finally am learning to accept them. They are part of how I look now. The word perky floats around a lot with these new fixtures. I haven't been perky, well I am not sure I was ever perky. Not in thought, word, deed or look. But now I have perky right up front and attached to my chest.
I will have to do some work on my belly and waist now and no, I don't mean more surgery. I can achieve some sort of change on my own through diet and exercise in those regions. But I could do nothing with my breasts.
But this morning as the sun has rose shining it's gold and pink light through the bare branches of the November skyline I realized how lucky I am. I have come through to the other side. Finally, gratefully and gracefully (I hope) accepting a gift handed to me. I received a similar gift 12 years ago when my cancer was found, I was given my life through surgery and radiation. Now I have been given a renewal to that life. An encouragement to continue with walking down this dirt road. Not to give up. Never to give up.
So as soon as the okay is given I will start walking again. Who knows where this dirt road will take me?
You're an amazing woman, Sandi. I appreciate how willing you are to share your experiences with the world. Be thankful I live a thousand miles away right now because after I chuckled at your wit I had the urge to (gasp) hug you. If I was the crying type, that might have happened too. Know that I love you and am praying for you. And I consider you an inspiration, not simply because you are strong, artistic and beautiful but because you tell the truth. You tell it with the harsh bits left in and yet I still want to hear it. Thank you, Mom. Love you.
ReplyDelete-Rachel