Okay then...

Yesterday's appointment with Dr. Huddleston, home-grown plastic surgeon extraordinaire, went well, I think. He is such a kind person, so in tune with the traumas his patients have been through, as well as being a competent doctor, I joke that he really must have been a woman (with breast cancer?) in a former life!

I told him that I really didn't care about the nipple reconstruction. It all seems so pointless to me. The bionic boobs are fake, now we're going to slap on some tattoos and pretend that everything is real and just peachy?

He patted my knee. He told me that though it seems like a delusional exercise, it is in fact, going to make me feel better in the long run. His nurse, Dawn, showed me some pictures (before and after), and I have to say that he does nice work. When I look at pictures that are about 4 years "after," yes, I DO wish mine looked like that!

I acquiesce then. Sign me up, I'll give it a whirl. This will at least be a minor day surgery, with only local anesthetic, and I can drive myself home. Bill will be in Florida that week, taking required courses at the AMO school, but this is not a big deal to do on a Wednesday morning. Doc will also continue to work on my cleavage issues (sags & bags) when he does the surgery. Nurse Dawn also gave me some samples of a new type of scar-diminishing ointment, which I am anxious to try. If it actually works, it will be worth the $40 per tiny tube. We'll see.

As for the encapsulation, this is apparently just how my body is--overly aggressive on building excess scar tissue. I am not in much pain most days. If I start out with a hot shower and massage, I can use my arms and chest muscles throughout the day without too many twinges. The numbness through my back "wings" extending out from under my arms is most likely permanent, but I suppose I will eventually get used to that. I will probably have to have encapsulotomies each year, for forever. I am astonishingly firm and perky, I'll give you that, the envy of all my middle-aged friends! If I fell flat on my face, I suspect I would bounce right back up to a standing position, like a super-ball!

I told Bill a few months back that I suspected I was being stubbornly resistant to the addition of nipples because that would mean that all of this was over, that the end result would be what I would have to live with from now on. Now I discover that instead, I will have annual surgeries to keep the encapsulation at bay, and that further tweaking will continue, as necessary. I figure that by the time I'm in my seventies, I will be perfect. Now that's just what the world needs--a 70-year old woman with a 18-year old's chest! (I hear all of mankind, cheering at this thought).
Harumph.

So. Onward.