Archive for March, 2013

Dr. Boob

Wednesday, March 13th, 2013

I’ve had so much plastic surgery, when I die they will donate my body to Tupperware!   Joan Rivers

If you read my last blog, you know that my doctor found a lump in my left breast.  So for peace of mind, I decided to have it biopsied.  Yesterday was my appointment.  The doctor looked and looked, felt and felt, but he could not find a lump to biopsy.  Yippee!  It was a very happy moment.  So, it seems safe to say I am still cancer free.  

I did not enjoy the scare one bit.  But, it is nice to know that my docs are keeping a close eye on me, even when I don’t like what they see.  For example, every time I go to my three month check up my doctor thoroughly inspects my breasts.  She presses here, touches there, examines the left side, scrutinizes the right, always hemming and hawing in between.  Then she stands back and with a sigh, says something like, “let’s wait, it takes time for the swelling to go down, things to shift and everything to fall into place.”  

Well, we waited and waited.  In fact, it’s been almost a year and a half of hemming and hawing, until now.  After another inspection, my doctor finally said out-loud what I had been thinking all along, “Deanne, your plastic surgeon did not do a good job.”  I guess she thought after finding a lump on my thyroid and breast she might as well go all out and put everything on the table; even if it meant another operating table.

I knew the day would come that I would hear her mutter those words but I suppose I was hoping for one of two scenarios:

  1. I would find out that my doctor actually did a good job.  That it is not a perfect science and I should thank my lucky stars that I don’t have a big crater on my chest.   

OR

  1. A miracle would happen.  One day I would wake up, crawl out of bed and “voila”, my breasts miraculously readjusted themselves in the middle of the night becoming not only symmetrical but perfectly round and ready for the front cover of Sports Illustrated. 

Neither scenario happened. 

The truth is my plastic surgeon messed up. 

Since the reconstruction surgeries, my left breast is two sizes larger and hangs two floors lower than my right breast.  And the dimpling, buckling and puckering on my mastectomy breast has not undimpled, unbuckled, or unpuckered like I had hoped.  I clearly have issues. 

So, now my doctor is recommending I get it fixed. 

The big question:  Do I undergo surgery again?   

Is it worth another stint or two in the hospital, more pain, more drugs, recuperation time and working hard to regain my muscle strength.  It was a difficult process, one I hoped I would not have to do again for a long time.  

To help with my decision I did a little research and this is what I learned.  Most implants only last 10 years.  According to the FDA, as many as 20 percent who receive breast implants for augmentation wind up having to have their implants removed within 8 to 10 years due to complications.  A few women have kept their original implants for 20 to 30 years, but that is unusual.  And, just the other day, the U.S. News and World Report reported that “the longer a woman has breast implants, the greater the chances that she will develop complications, some of which will require surgery.”  So the likely hood of having surgery again is high.  I was just hoping for later rather than sooner.  

Also, even though many women have to go back for surgery, according to the World News Report, the majority of women are happy they did it. 

I am one of those women.  I am happy I did it.  However, I admit that I am uncomfortable.  There is abnormal internal scarring and my breasts are simply too large.  I prefer a smaller model.  Something like I had before my mastectomy.  I am not sure why my plastic surgeon chose to give me such large implants.  But he did.  Maybe it’s the Orange County way, or maybe he prefers large breasts.  They are certainly bigger than my originals.  I can’t button half of my shirts any longer.  And my t-shirts, well they stay hanging in my closet collecting dust.  I don’t wear them anymore because I rather people look at my face than my boobs. 

I’m not the only one that has issues with my boob job.  I have a friend that had a double mastectomy.  I found out she had the same plastic surgeon I did.  I am going to call him Dr. Boob for the sake of this blog.  My friend does not like her reconstructed breasts.  Although she said he did a good job, she simply does not like them.  She has asked him to remove the implants.  Dr. Boob told her “No” and that she should go see a psychologist instead.  I think Dr. Boob should go see a psychologist.  

So as much as I wish I could just live with it, accept my lopsidedness and dimples, I admit, in my heart, I really want to be put back together the right way.  I am not Mrs. Potato Head, a game for someone to haphazardly put body parts here and there.  I am Deanne, and I am worth more than that. 

My husband thinks I am beautiful no matter what I decide; big, small or nothing at all.  I am so absolutely truly grateful for that.  And, I know he means it.  But, I also know that deep down inside that man soul of his, he is a boob man.    

I want to share a little story with all of you.  Just the other day, Kevin came with me to my ultrasound appointment.  He was in the room while my doctor was feeling around for that mysterious lump.  When she left the room, Kevin said, “That’s kinda hot!” 

“What’s  hot?” I asked.

“Watching a woman touch your breast!” he replied.  OMG!  As my doctor is looking for cancer, my husband sees girl on girl. 

Need I say more!