9/11. Glass half full?


So I went to the doctor to pick out new breasts. At least I hope they’ll be breasts. Or like breasts. Breast-like will do in a pinch. The things my chest has been hosting are definitely not. And I’ve found some other blogs where women are talking frankly about their breast building “process” (note how I avoid the word “journey”). Damn, they’re brave. I’m just worried. Really, really worried. Some journeys take a lifetime.

Surgery is on 9/11. Anybody got a glass-half-full line for that one?

Ok, beat you to it. I still don’t have to do chemo. This is a very good thing.

So from the get-go I knew saline implants were out of the question. I’ve examined enough women who had those placed during the 90’s moratorium on silicone to know you CAN hear them slosh. And thank G-d silicone is supposed to be lighter, as these saline tissue expanders are heavier than I could have imagined. I’ve lost weight just lugging them around. I even chickened out and had them reduced.

What a world. They’ve got “gummy bear” implants now. Feel like candy, look like pears, but are textured like expanders and scare the heck out of me because they’ve got to be bigger than those are to prevent flippage. You know, that embarrassing condition when your breast turns upside down at dinner. Maybe while serving the spaghetti.

So, I’m gonna go with the old tried & true, half-round, slick model. These are meant to slip and slide and smoosh. Kinda like breasts. As a friend said, “my mind breathes a sigh of relief at the soft ones settling into the space that’s already there. Like real breasts after menopause.”

There is sense in that. It resonates. I can do resonate. I just can’t do journey. At least not the whole thing. At least not right now.

6 responses »

  1. Another in a series of great pieces. I can only imagine the sense of recognition women who’ve been down this road (I won’t call it a “journey” either:) get when they read your work, Kay. So candid and real. You’re both a great writer and a fierce woman. Best combo I can think of!

  2. Thank you, Lorraine. As ever your encouragement is, well, encouraging. But I gotta confess, any fierceness I managed to channel can be attributed to watching the best parts of “Dances With Wolves” at 3 am. The sorry for myself parts, too, come to think of it 😉 .

  3. I’ll be thinking of you and wishing you quick healing and less pain! It sounds like you’ve really been through it with the expanders. I wonder why they can’t come up with a more humane process for this. Women with breast cancer have been through enough; finally getting new breasts should be a happy period on the end of a long sentence.

    • Thank you so much for your kind words. Am out of pain now due to the magic of gabapentin–fooling my body into believing there’s enough dopamine to go around. Works for me, anyhoo. Your mileage may differ.

  4. I love, love, love your blog! I, too, am dealing with these comfy, pillow-like…NOT…expanders! Hopefully getting my first fill this week and start the process of getting my new perky boobs! I stumbled onto your blog and can relate so much to your story. Keep ’em coming. I love looking at cancer with humor instead of angst.

    • So glad to hear from you, Michelle, and really glad you like my posts. Never sure if I’m into TMI, helping myself and others out, or being a big bore. Decided early on not to worry about it. If anybody’s offended, I don’t want to know them. That may seem harsh, but underneath it all, there’s plenty of angst. Therefore I’m glad to hear from you and others who aren’t hung up on the proprieties.

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