adieu, nénés

As I write this, I can say that my pain after the second surgery has finally subsided. Whatever stitch was used this time around, I suppose I can say my body doesn’t LIKE it, but it isn’t having the blister-forming madness that the last one caused. While in Stockholm in late May, I managed to yank out some exposed stitches that were causing me grief. After they were gone, those areas healed much more quickly.

For the most part, I don’t have any open wounds right now. The only ‘problem’, if you could call it that, is that the suture line is PURPLE and even nearing black in some places. It’s not painful, though, and there are no sores or blisters.

I doubt I will be seeing my PS again, however. I am moving to another state 12 hours away on Saturday and don’t plan on heading back here to just see my PS unless something goes severely wrong. At this point, I am just going to wait and let my body heal at whatever snail-like pace it wants to heal at. Considering how rapidly the blisters formed with the last surgery, I feel rather confident at this point that I won’t have THAT particular problem this time around.

Am I happy with my breasts? I guess. I think, however, I’ve grown a little blasé about them. It’s like the family member that calls to tell you about their ailments all the time. You care, of course, but after a while you just don’t want to be bothered with it. This is where I am at currently with my nénés (and if I haven’t said it before, nénés is French slang for boobs).

I’m glad that my nipples are closer in size now, even though it’s not perfect (nothing ever is, though). The right one, in my opinion, could still be a BIT smaller. On top of that, I have no idea why it is now inverted. Before the first surgery, I KNOW it wasn’t inverted. But for whatever reason, it is now. I don’t like it, but I’ve gotten used to living with it.

And now that I feel I am done with all the surgery mess, it’s time to start re-shaping my shape, so to speak. I can only tolerate being so pear-like for so long. It’s starting to bother me. Now that I don’t have such large boobies preventing me from exercising, there really is no excuse for me NOT to be exercising. Will this turn into a weight loss blog? No, I doubt it. I’ll talk about my boobies but would rather keep my fat to myself! Nevertheless I think this is something that some women who undergo a breast reduction will face. It’s hard adapting to a new body shape that’s radically different from the one you knew for years. And sometimes, after your breasts have been altered, you may feel that the rest of your body will eventually need to follow suit.

And that’s where I am now — healing yet still not healed, but ready to move on to the next level of a new Rowan.

I would say that this perhaps isn’t the best time to update, seeing as how I am cracked out and high as a kite on pain killers. But, what the hell — this has been my current state for the past three days and probably won’t change any time soon.

My “scar excision revision” surgery (say that five times fast) was on Friday. Two days before the surgery, my nose started to get runny. I developed a slight cough. Now, most people would call their doctors, tell them of this and probably have the surgery re-scheduled. Not Rowan. No sir, not me. I self-medicated. I drank hot tea with lemon and honey. I took Tylenol. I took Benadryl. I used decongestant nose sprays. My unruly sinuses were not going to get the best of me. So, on the day of surgery, I took a Benadryl and a Tylenol to mask any fever or runny nose and in I went! The entire time there I suppressed my urge to cough and kept my head back on the bed to keep my nose from running. I made it through. I.V. was inserted and into surgery I went. My med school friend will probably read this and shake his head and curse my name for my foolish actions, but c’est la vie. I lived to tell another tale for another day.

Hindsight being what it is, maybe I should have re-scheduled. But no, I’m stubborn as an ox and I will always do things my way. Coming out of surgery, I hurt. My goodness did I hurt. My chest hurt and my throat hurt. My throat felt like an angry wildcat had ravaged it. To say the least, the tube that placed down my throat for the general anaesthesia did not help out the tonal qualities of my voice. It’s Monday and I’m just starting to sound human again.

But most importantly, my boobies hurt. MAN did they hurt! I didn’t remember being in this much pain after the first surgery. Sure, I was achy, but I didn’t really HURT. I said I hurt. The nurse gave me this and that, hair of dog and eye of newt and eventually a shot of morphine. No, I still hurt. It was a subdued hurt, but a hurt all the same. Fast forward to getting home and the hurt began to return with a vengeance. That pretty much sums up how I am right now, awake since 4 am: hurting.

As for how my boobies look, they look like trussed up, sore, and angry ta-tas. And they hurt. I am supposed to go see my PS tomorrow — we’ll see what he says himself about how they look and my level of discomfort and pain. I am supposed to be leaving for Stockholm in 18 days. To say the least, this trip should prove interesting provided how much pain I am in right now and how easily I get exhausted due to the after-effects of the anaesthesia.

I apologise for the rambling of this entry. The pain killers are turning my brain into mush. If only they’d do something about the pain …

I’ve gotten several requests from people asking me when I would update this blog. “Eventually”, I’d say. “When I get around to it.” The truth of the matter is that I have not felt like talking about my boobies. The mere thought of them would make my face contort into a sour grimace with an exasperated sigh leaving my lips.

To start, I’ll answer the most important question: What the hell caused all that blistering and general post-op nastiness? It’s a rather simple answer, really. I had a very bad allergic reaction to my internal dissolving sutures. My body rejected them like a fat kid rejects brussel sprouts. The blistering was essentially the sutures being pushed to the surface and then being “spat” out. That’s right — instead of the sutures dissolving, my body pushed them out. Thankfully the affected areas have little to no feeling and so this doesn’t hurt. Once, however, I yanked a suture out of an area with feeling and I’ll just say it wasn’t the most pleasant sensation in the world.

All that blister-forming and suture-spatting has lead to some rather unsightly scarring. It has also lead to my breasts not retaining a pleasant shape. And for whatever reason, my left side has also formed what is called a “dog ear”, a little flap or tag of skin which pokes out to the side. Dog ears on dogs can be cute, but I can’t say the same for dog ears on my boobies.

So, I hope anyone could clearly see why I wouldn’t want to talk about any of this–I’ve been grumpy for months. I do want to say, though, that even with all these general unpleasantries, I don’t regret the surgery itself. I like having smaller breasts, even if they are not that pretty. I like the fact I can walk around without a bra and without having the “slosh and sway” that my old breasts had. I’ve gotten over the fact I’m more of a “pear” than an “hourglass” now. You couldn’t pay me to go back to the way things were.

Now that I’ve caught you up to speed, we’ll continue on to “what’s next”. Next being a reconstructive surgery recently approved by my insurance company. Essentially, I will be cut back open, the dog ear will be removed, nipples will be appropriately resized, boobs re-shaped and I will be closed back up with a new suture — this time one I hopefully will not react so poorly to.

And that’s this in a nutshell. It’s not over yet, even though my one year reduction anniversary is only 3.5 months away. More to come after the date for the next surgery has been set.