There is no picture to go along with this blog. I just couldn’t bring myself to post a post-op breast on here today.
11:42 a.m. – I”m sitting here, at the day job, taking a quick break between tasks.
Today is the day that I go to visit the plastic surgeon regarding reduction surgery. I am going alone, and I have just gotten a case of nerves like you wouldn’t believe.
What if he says I have to lose weight first and won’t consider surgery until then?
What if he says the girls aren’t big enough?
Why didn’t I remember to take care of that little bit of stubble in my armpits this morning?
What if he says we CAN go forward with it?
Leave it to me to worry over any and all possible scenarios. More Later…
3:15 p.m. – So the doc was running late this afternoon, which is ok, because I was running low on nerve, but I had a “RedBook” to read once I disrobed from the waist up and put on the “all but too small across the chest, but was huge everywhere else” gown that I am quite sure must have come from the hospital laundry, and the faces of the laundry people that would eventually be laundering my gown went through my head. How bizarre is that? That’s the thing about going to doctors that are part of the hospital group that one works for. In my case, I already knew the office manager, because my Courier and Support Service Associates already deliver to this particular doctor’s office, so it was nice to see a friendly face (or two).
Let me back up just a moment. I have a friend that I’ve known about forever that had the surgery done. She came in to see me at work one morning in November and said, “JULES! I’m getting my reduction surgery!!!!” And I wasn’t sure if I wanted to hug her or slug her, because I was so jealous. What I did do, however, was hug her tight and tell her, “I mean this in the nicest possible way, but I hate you so much right now I can’t stand it!” And I hugged her again. After her surgery (which actually took place twelve weeks ago today), she came to see me a few times post-op, and I believe I truly began to hate her a little more with each visit. Oh, I was SO jealous. She sang the doc’s praises and encouraged me to call him. Which I did, as you read about in my blog a couple of weeks ago.
When I decided I might actually be ready to go forward, I emailed my friend, and told her what I had up my sleeve. She told me that I would not be sorry…In fact, she was feeling pretty amazing and had lost a good bit of weight since the surgery, and I asked questions, and she answered candidly, and I made the appointment, and we’ve visited off and on via email over these past two weeks.
So I arrived, read the magazine, the doc comes in and is every bit as nice as Suz said he would be, and we got down to brass tacks. I told him why I was looking into the surgery, I showed him “the girls,” he took some measurements, told me I could cover up. My fear that the girls would be too small was unfounded. Apparently they are the perfect candidates for the surgery. Then we talked about the keyhole and the anchor, which are the two types of surgery for girls like mine. I opted for the anchor, given that I would still have a scar running from nipple in a straight line down, and then a “U” shaped scar underneath the breast (or what will be left of it, if you will…). The keyhole still leaves a scar going vertically, but not as large of a “U” shape. The difference is that more tissue can be removed with the anchor than the keyhole, which is why I made that decision.
Apparently losing weight isn’t a huge deal, either. Now that I’m moving about the cabin without a bum knee (yeah, still a little sore from the other day’s antics. but not bad), he feels like the extra poundage around my mid-section will start to go away.
Then we talked about smoking. As y’all know, I’ve cut back a lot over the last two weeks, but before they submit the paperwork to my insurance, I MUST be nicotine free for 30 days. Nicotine, I learned, can cause the nipples to die, and I don’t know about y’all, but dead nipples do NOT sound like loads of fun. So as of midnight tonight? No more nicotine – no patches, no gum, no nothing but a nicotine free e-cig. Again, it’s sad that my vanity will let me quit smoking, but the fear of heart disease and/or lung cancer will not.
So, where we are now is I call them in 30 days, provided I’ve not cheated, because if I do, the clock starts over again, and the mental image of dead nipples will keep me honest, that’s for sure.
Until next time…