I have gone under the knife three times in the past seven months: a lumpectomy, a mastectomy and a reconstruction. Basically, for the past seven months a lot of people have been looking at, poking, cutting into, ultra sounding, MRI-ing, carefully considering and talking about my boobs. Well, my left boob, specifically.
During this third surgery, the nurses in the surgical unit recognized me and David.
Nurse: “Weren’t you here a month ago?”
David: “No, it was back in October.”
Nurse: “Time flies.”
Me: “Yep, time flies when your fighting breast cancer.”
I am so glad that this most recent surgery is the last surgery. I’m still sore. I can’t wave my left arm in the air. I really can’t wave it like I just don’t care. Still, I already can tell that, once it is healed, I am going to be way more comfortable. I don’t have one ginormous boob that’s hard as a rock, and I don’t have to put in a silicone insert on the healthy side of the my bra to balance it out. My tops and dresses already fit better.
Even though this is my last surgery (fingers crossed), it doesn’t mean I won’t be going to Kaiser more than I would like. The doctors will be monitoring me closely.
I’m pretty excited about the new boob. I know my friends and family are curious about it. It is probably taking all their strength not to stare (“Eyes up here, Mom”) or just reach out and cop a feel. I must say, it feels pretty natural. David says, “It feels like victory.”