It will have been two whole weeks come this Wed since my boob slippage surgery. I started back to work last Thurs. Why, oh why do I think I am super-woman, because I most certainly am not. Please pay attention any would be surgery candidates, you need more than a week off. I feel I must apologize right now to all the clients that had appointments with me last week, because I cut your hair on Percocet (yes I did) and I hope you were not aware that I felt at least a little off my game and feel I just might have been a little too chatty. For a start off, my chest was strapped down like a twenties flapper. How in heavens did those women do the Charleston? It is nigh on impossible to breath properly and I know I didn’t adhere to the “Try not to put your arms above your head” rule. I was very sore and very tired and just a tad stupid (in more ways than one)
The true nitty-gritty of it all is revealed below. I am sure that there will be some wonderful women out there who will have to experience this same problem, I know, I’ve looked it up. I’m not sure how often it happens and I’ve had more than a few people ask me if it was the surgeons fault? Will it be fixed for free? I don’t honestly know and I don’t really care. The one comment my plastic surgeon said that made me want kick her in the shins, was that, and I quote… “No guaranties this will not happen again Tina, I’m just saying, you can’t make a pair of spanks out of an old pair of tights”
I did point out that while this was moderately funny to one such as I, it probably is an analogy best dropped.
So here are pictures before surgery, six days post and twelve days out (today). I know they are not the prettiest of breasts but I’m trying to learn to like them.
p.s. Sorry about the skin tones, I’m not really all these different colors.
Although I feel a bit of an old hand at this surgery lark now, I have to admit to a bit of trepidation yesterday morning. Peter and I had had very limited sleep we were both a tad on the cranky side (me especially). The nurse noted that my blood pressure was rather high and at that point I decided we needed to kiss and make up. Never a good idea to go into surgery in a bad mood.
I think all went well, although you never get to talk to your surgeon after surgery, heaven forbid, I suppose they think you will be too woozy to take anything in, so, I won’t really know how it all went from her perspective until my post-op apt next Wednesday. From my end, well, lets just say there are a lot of stitches and I am the lucky recipient of yet another drain for a week. Pain level not bad, until I try to move but that will subside quickly I hope. The absolute best part of coming home from the hospital though is the look of love on my cat’s face when he realized his job as “guardian of the sick one”, was back on
If anybody is still out there and still interested I have some news….
After a gap of sixteen months, I am headed back to the operating room. It appears that I have a wayward breast implant. Now, the picture of the lovely little vintage Morris Minor is not mine, although I’ve always had a soft spot for them, no, I just needed an image to do with traveling.
Back to my errant boob. The right one as it happens, began it’s slide southward about six months ago, but of late it has become quite pronounced and somewhat worrisome. Off I go to see my plastic surgeon Dr V who is all smiles and hugs until I dramatically fling open my robe and say “I think I may have a problem”
She sort of gasped a little bit, recovered herself and said “Oh yes, I see, have you had any trauma?” This question could have elicited all sorts of answers from me of a sarcastic nature, but, as I assumed she meant something like an air bag deployment to my chest, I assured her I had not. You never quite know if these things are routine or not do you? The doctors act as if it’s an everyday occurrence and they fix dozens of them a year, but really I have no idea at all if this is normal or not, maybe someone out there in cyberspace can enlighten me.
The crux of the matter seems to be that cadaver skin (nicer sounding technical name ALODERM) that is used to make a sling under the implant and hold it all in place, has become detached from my chest wall. So, all that remains is for me to pop back into the OR and have it re-attached……nothing to it….I hope.
I went in today for my pre-op appointment (surgery is on the 13th) and I sensed a certain vagueness in answers to questions like “how long will it take?” and “will I have to have drains again?” both of which received a squinty eyed smile and a head bobble “Probably not, but I won’t know until I get in there and how deep I have to go”
“HOW DEEP?” Alright, let’s just get this malarkey over with already. I will keep you posted……..
Aright, I know that it takes time to recover from surgery and that you need to take it easy blah, blah, blah. But, out here in Port Orchard it is trying to be spring and I have vowed to get my garden whipped into shape this year. The thing is I seem to be having a spot of trouble with my left arm. Do you remember I had that axillary cording business after the mastectomy? Well something similar seems to be happening again. I don’t know if when I had this last surgery the surgeon somehow pulled something tight again. I don’t have the cording that shows like guitar strings down my arm but I am experiencing pain when I stretch out my arm. Still, I am not going back to physical therapy as I think I can just work it out myself.After two years of hospitals I now avoid going as much as possible, you understand.The rest of me seems to be healing ok, those long scars are looking much better now.
Back to spring in the garden. I decided to hire myself a little muscle. Yes well, I can’t call Dave exactly muscle-bound (He;s more on the small wiry side) but he is helping me for a couple of hours a week to do some of the more strenuous tasks that need doing.After fifteen years of marriage, I think I know my husband is never going to come around to loving days spent at one with the dirt, so I took matters into my own hands and advertised in the local paper. We have now successfully redone the compost bins (with the help of Peter after all) and I am full of good intentions to keep then in tip-top shape and that compost turned and used. I mean I have the chickens and they freely give of their eggs and their….poop! So I need compost bins. I now have three for compost and one for leaf mold. Something my brother (the real gardener in the family) swears by. If you don’t know about it click on the link above, this is what we sould be doing with our leaves insead of blowing them all over the place.I also managed to plant a few brussels and red cabbages in the newly weeded raised bed. Oh, this is going to be a great year for the veggies. Gosh mabe I’ll start a gardening blog!
Well no, actually it is not. I have been in what would we call this?…..Oh yes agony! That’s probably a bit too strong, but I have been really hurting since I have been home. Oh, well this just serves me right for being so glib about my last and final surgery. “It’s nothing” I said ” just going in to get rid of those chicken wings under my armpits that used to be part of my boobs” I joked. Well the joke was on me this time because, as you will see from the photo, this was hardly a minor nip and tuck. The thing is, those are not the bits that hurt, no, that would be where I had some fat (aparently it takes a quite bit) lipo’d from my tummy to fill in my divot and even out the look of my little lumps. Right, take it from me liposuction hurts….a lot, and the bruises! well I’m not even going to show you those for fear it would put you all off your dinners. So, here I am, wearing something akin to a Kevlar girdle and bra,(I really am sure this thing could stop a bullet) looking as if I’ve taken a few punches from someone who knows a thing or two about boxing and feeling really miserable. I am sure to be back from this pity party for one soon but right now I think I feel a bit sorry for myself.
On entering the waiting area for surgery intake patients, I was struck by how jovial everyone seemed. Some people bring whole families with them and yesterday was no exception. A big happy Hawaiian band of smiley faces, a good omen I thought. They whipped me right in on time and maybe it’s because I’m getting to be an old hand at this but it all seemed to go very smoothly. I was done with surgery by two in the afternoon and on my way home by four thirty…..nothing to it. I even pulled the medical priority boarding for the ferry ride home which was great, we just had to show the special paper from the hospital and then pulled in front of everyone else and drove straight on,in rush hour which was fantastic as I was pretty uncomfortable in my outfit. This time they sent me home in a full on wraparound velcro girdle and another massive velcro compression bra, phew! you can hardly breath. Anyway, I am doing fine although I am covered in bruises and have about a hundred stitches in me and am swimming in a percocet fog. So, if none of this makes sense you will know why. Just thought I should let you all know I am home, recovering and happy.
Alright, it’s time to fix up that little back bedroom,commonly refered to here as the A.S.S (after surgery sanctuary) ready for my return from the Swedish country club and spa, oh ok, but hospital doesn’t sound like nearly as much fun. I have an early check-in, in the morning, so hopefully that will mean that I will be over the anaesthetic and able to come home the same day. I am supposed to be in for about a three-hour opp. This sort of surprised me as I thought this little nip and tuck to my Barbie boobs was going to be a snap. Ha, when is anything a snap? But, on the positive side this should be my last and final trip to the OR in a long long time. My surgeon Dr V has just returned from a conference in Hawaii, so I feel certain she will be rested and ready to go. I have taken a full week off work to recover and I hope this will be enough. I am going to be stuck in bed for a while and am sure I will feel the need to write a blog post or two, so, bye for now and I’ll see you on the other side of what I hope will be an easy surgery.