A Glimpse at Breast Cancer Reconstruction

Ow. Again. But this time it wasn't to remove cancer. It was to put some volume back to refill the old brassiere. Like some girls in high school when they stuffed their empty cups with half a box of Kleenex. Same deal. Only they use things like silicone and saline to refill your boob these days. Yes, they're back to silicone as they "say" its safe again. Better bags- was that a zip lock I saw them place in there?

Okay, so I went under the knife at approximately 8 a.m., having been in day surgery since 6 getting gowned and weighed, checked for dentures or other air passage blockers. The anesthetist came by and explained why I could not have my old stand-by of a spinal tap as they couldn't get it to cover such a high area on the body. Okay. General anesthetic it will be. At least now I don't smoke and will recover quickly from any coughing issues the GA leaves with me.

I am walked down to the OR and told to hop up on the bed. This is new, I've always been rolled down on a gurney. I am splayed out like Christ on the cross, left arm strapped to a board, the right one splayed out on a different board that shoots straight out from the table. There is a sun above my head, as big and round as a Prince George pot hole that will get turned on seconds after I receive something " to relax me." I beseech the anesthetist to make my martini not too dry and with lots of ice and am out before he can reply. Was I served olives with that 'cause damn, I'm hungry?

I awake with my surgeon telling me something I don't get, placing some items to pass on to my regular doctor. I sleep again. I awake. I sleep. I don't remember getting up and leaving, going straight to bed at my in-laws, awaking in time for the dinner bell before back to bed. I am sore along the right side as to be expected but can't see anything as one large gauze pad is securely taped right across the right breast.

In the morning I am popping pain pills, heavy duty ones that make my eyes cross, but we load up and head to Quesnel for a book signing at a busy lottery/book store call Caryall Books. Barry helps by unloading my gear (all stashed in an over-sized suitcase, and one sandwich board with a carry-strap) and a case of books. We do well here. I talk to many people, handing out samples of Crystal deodorant wipes as a way to start standing up to cancer by eliminating toxins in your life.

We overnight with friends and I'm in bed very early, the pain creeping up before climbing down after popping more pills. As long as it's hurting, I can't get addicted they say. That's great because there is pain. But it fades quickly and I flip around trying to find a comfortable way to sleep. I decide lying on my good side with a pillow sandwiched between my arm and side of the surgery is best. I remember this from my previous two surgeries.

I do the Relay for Life on the Saturday with a great bunch of girls on the team Fighters 4 Life. They've made tye-dyed shirts to sell so I get one, filling the girls with watermelon and my macaroons to boot. Back to our friends that night by dinner time as again the rain came down and spoiled the relay event enough to make me leave. I couldn't afford to get sick at this stage of the game. Three more relays to go!

It appears I did not get a bag of silicone inserted into a cut made along my original breast surgery scars from the partial mastectomy. An expander was put in, along with an empty bag which gets filled by syringe once every four weeks. That lets the radiated skin get a chance to stretch as its filled. Like getting braces I imagine? A bit at a time of tightening and stretching. It will be funny to watch my breast expand a bit more every month when Sandi fills it. Like blowing up a balloon in slow-mo. Only problem is the surgery side is swollen and firm again while the other breast sags to above my belly button. I had to go braless today in a tight-topped dress and found myself dragging the good side up to the same level as the surgical side on the half hour. Nothing like watching a 50 year-old digging around inside her shirt every few minutes. Good grief. Handling myself. They'll have me committed. Like watching a monkey in a cage have sex with itself.

But, correct behaviour or not, I'm in for the experience and hopefully for a better self-image and bra-fit. I'm pleased to say at this stage, the far-right pointed nipple has re-aligned a little to the left, so that was a bonus. But who knows where it will end up in three or four months? Pointing back at the other nipple? Like car headlights badly out of adjustment. A person could go blind looking at them.
Well, as long as they don't both point straight south. That I would have a problem with.

I'll keep you posted on the drama of it all. I'm off to pop another Ibuprofen which is working well with food and just as good as the big guns did. Just not for as long. Off I go...quickly!