We arrived at the hospital at 5:30 am the day of surgery. I wanted a coffee soooo bad. I am fairly dependent on caffeine, so with the lack of it and the pain of a pulled muscle in my neck, my head was throbbing. Not how I want to feel going under anesthesia. Anesthesia and I don’t mix well, so I had my anesthesia records from a few years ago when a fabulous anesthesiologist found the magic mixture. Still, with the way I was feeling, I expected I would wake up feeling pretty rough.
They took me back relatively quickly and prepped me. I wanted to get some shots of the prep but they didn’t bring my husband back until most of it was done. He managed to get one shot before I went nightie-night.
|Ready for surgery|
With as many surgeries as I’ve had, I really didn’t expect to be nervous, but I was. I was a little sad at losing my breasts, but I was still firm in my decision. Even if the biopsies came back clear, the diagnosis of ADH and ALH would necessitate drug therapy (which I was not a candidate for) and repeated mammograms. They’d also found a new spot and there was two more surgeries right there. I could just see this going the way of my uterine issues. I was certain this was the decision I could live with. So I took a deep breath and away down the hall we went.
When I started to come around, I heard several voices. I remember my husband telling me they couldn’t put the expanders in because in a few spots my skin was too thin. They would need to wait about 10 days and give it a chance to heal and establish a good blood supply. I nodded. I was not upset. Obviously I was disappointed that it would mean another surgery, but I’d rather have it done right and err on the side of caution than to rush it and have problems.
Even with all the anti-nausea meds they pumped into me, I still had nausea. My abdomen was bloated (which I thought odd) and I had gas bubbles floating around in there. I remember looking down at my gown, curious what my breasts looked like now. They felt tight, that was about it. I mustered up the courage to look. I wasn’t as shocked as I expected I would be, but of course it was a vastly different sight than I was used to seeing. It basically looked like someone just deflated them. Poor boobies. 😦 I covered myself back up and just told myself that this wouldn’t be forever; that some day soon they would look like breasts again, and that by doing this I’d cut my risk to just about as low as it could possibly get.
Below is a photo of my breasts that I snapped shortly after they moved me to my room from Recovery. I put hearts over the nipples but if you are under 18 or squeamish in any way you might want to scroll past it. Viewer discretion is advised.