It’s been over two months since my last blog post. I've been meaning to update but I’ve continued to put it off. When I self-evaluate and ask myself why, what I come up with is that I've been avoiding the emotional sadness that I've been experiencing. For the most part, my life has gone back to normal. I go to work every day, experience fun dinners with my husband, see my friends when I want; I've recently started going to the gym again. Last week I found that I could finally lie on my side which is a huge accomplishment. But every time I take off my shirt and look in the mirror, I see nothing that resembles me. I miss the shape and contour of a woman’s natural breast. I miss how soft and squishy they used to be (expanders look and feel like coconuts… literally). I miss the way my nipples used to look and act. I thought that keeping my nipples was my way of keeping a small part of me but what no one prepared me for is when you cut off the blood flow, they most likely will look much different. I constantly question my chose to keep them. Was the elevated risk worth it (only about a percentage or two)? There are a million things I miss about the way my body used to look but most of all; I miss the sensation of touch. That is now completely gone and it’s not expected to come back.
About a month post op, I told myself I was not going to judge until one year post surgery. I wish I could hold myself to that but it’s difficult. It’s not blaringly obvious that I have expanders in. I’m guessing that only people who’ve had them before would know. But I’m insecure that people will think I just have a bad boob job. But the truth is, this is not an augmentation, I’m smack dab in the middle of reconstruction. People who have seen many reconstructions before tell me they look great and I honestly agree with them. I’m really just ready get to the next stage where I might feel a bit more comfortable with them.
The good news is… I’m less than 24 hours away from my next surgery. Aside from some minor adjustments I may have to do (all aesthetic), the hope is this will be my last. I will finally get my real fakes! From what I’ve heard, this surgery is much less invasive; I’ll only be under for 3 hours and most likely will go home at the end of the day. The last few weeks, I have not been nervous at all; it wasn’t until an hour ago I started getting butterflies. The strangest part for me is I don’t get to choose my size. My plastic surgeon has ordered about 5 different implants and she’s going to choose which one looks best. It’s strange to go to sleep and not know what you’re going to wake up with. I guess no one gets to choose what they are born with either so it’s similar to that. It’s just natural to think that when you get plastic surgery you get more of a say. However, I’m still confident I chose the right surgeon so I’m going to trust she will make me look great.
The REALLY great news… I still do not regret my decision to have the mastectomy. And as long as I can still say that, things are going well. Looking at the bigger picture, it’s not about what I look like in a swimsuit or cocktail dress (although it would be nice to look good!); it’s about me being alive the next 50+ years.