I was counting down the days and finally, yesterday, I had my three week check up with the plastic surgeon who did my breast reduction. The "recovery" is supposed to be six weeks but a whole lot of things get better at the three week point. I was anxious for my appointment all day, and typically, it fell at the very end of the day.
I might have been annoying at my appointment.
I didn't mean to be but I couldn't seem to help myself.
I realized later, I have trouble trusting doctors. I don't know why. It might have something to do with the fact that it took FIVE surgeries on my arm to get me out of debilitating, breathtaking, pain and into normal chronic pain. Not to mention, I'll never have full use of that very same arm which they performed FIVE surgeries on. The purpose of the breast reduction is also to help my arm/shoulder so really that makes SIX surgeries in three years all because of ONE car accident.
So maybe I have good reason to be a doctor skeptic.
(Also, have I ever told you the guy who ran the stop sign and hit me was an asshole? Oh yeah, I guess I did.)
I need to tell you up-front that I love my plastic surgeon. He's wonderful and kind and for Godsakes, he's been Chief of Plastic Surgery at a very well known Newport Beach hospital. I would recommend him to anyone.
Nonetheless, I felt I ought to tell him how to do his job yesterday. Because, of course, I have a medical degree in plastic surgery from Harvard due in the mail to me any day now. Don't I?
I might have pushed my doc just a *wee bit* towards the end of his patience level yesterday. Also, now that I think about it? I might have done similar things with my shoulder surgeon and The Torturer. But never mind … they aren't the point of this story, are they?
While I waited for the doc I talked with one of the nurses. She was very friendly. I was astonished to hear she has a 23 year old son. I thought she was 23! Will the wonders of plastic surgery never cease to amaze me! My jaw fell to the floor when she told me her age. My doctor must actually be even better than I thought because the women who work for him, and partake of his expertise, all look fabulous. Astonishingly enough, they look youthful and good. (Unlike all the usual Plastic Barbies who walk around Orange County just looking plastic-ish.)
I can't get over it.
But again, that didn't stop me from telling the doc all I know about plastic surgery. He entered the room and closed the door. I chatted pleasantries with him for a few moments and then, as asked, I stood and removed my gown. Doc just sat on his little stool staring at my boobs, appraising them. I felt a little uncomfortable. It's unsettling to have a man sitting within inches of your breasts just staring at them.
I almost expected him to roll his doctor stool closer and take a taste or something. (I'm sorry, but I'm just being honest about the thoughts that were going through my mind.) I mean, there he was with his face right in front of my boobs. Don't you wonder if it crossed his mind?
I also wanted to ask him if I could plan on instant nipple-induced orgasms for the rest of my life or if it's just a temporary side effect. I decided I'd wait until my six week check up to ask the nipple-orgasm question. Maybe my nipples will be back to normal by then and I won't even have to ask.
Finally, he began removing the surgical tape. It was fine. It wasn't painful. I looked down at one breast and noticed redness near the incision site.
"It's infected," I advised the doctor.
"No, it's not," the doctor informed t
he annoying patient me. He then went on to note I'd had a small allergic reaction to the stitches themselves. Lucky me. Apparently it happens "once in awhile" and isn't a big deal. It caused a little redness, but the redness should disappear quickly.
There wasn't a mirror in the room, but I looked down at my breasts as he removed a few stitches. Most of the stitches were the dissolving kind, but he needed to cut a few out. He asked me to lift and hold my breasts as he worked.
All of a sudden I said, "Oh look! You made the left one bigger than the right one!"
Startled, he quickly answered, "I did not!"
He looked hurt at the very thought.
"Yes, you did!" I retorted.
This was the exact point where I could tell the doc found me a tad annoying. He pushed his chair back, he looked at my breasts, he took a deep breath and sighed.
Then … then he used his doctor voice to discuss my "concern" with me. He was very nice, and he was very polite, and he was clearly delving into his well of patience to speak to me. He began clarifying for me that my left breast is more swollen than my right and that he did not make two different sized boobs for me.
"Look," he said, pointing to my ribs on the left side.
My ribs are visibly swollen on the left side of my body.
"Your left side is just taking longer to heal," he explained again. Then he added, "Your breasts came out great. Once they've finished healing you are going to be very, very, happy."
He seemed confident. He seemed assuring. To be honest, even right now – with my left boob swollen slightly bigger than my right they look terrific.
"I think I can wear a bra now," I blurted.
(At the same time I was wondering if they make lopsided bras. You know, in case I need a D cup for my left tit and a C cup for my right one.)
My doc tilted his head a little as he weighed my latest outburst and how best to deal with me.
"I know you're anxious to wear a real bra again," he stated.
"I don't think it would hurt, I'm sure my breasts are ready!" I enthusiastically informed him.
"Ready?" he asked. (As if I had just mentioned I had baked them at 350 degrees for an hour and they were now done cooking.)
"At six weeks the breast tissue will be 90% healed. They won't be ready for a real bra until then," he stated quite firmly.
Crestfallen, I nodded.
As he gave me a few more instructions he handed me a tube of Kelo-cote.
Kelo-cote is a gel which supposedly prevents scar formation and reduces the appearance of scars. I tucked it in my purse. My doc leaned forward and offered me his hand to shake. I almost gave him a hug, but I was afraid what reaction
a hug might set off in my new bionic nipples. I figured at that point, he didn
9;t need me adding any additional interesting moments to my visit.
© Twenty Four At Heart