Well, it doesn’t involve me not having my breasts amputated, but you can’t win ’em all. I mean, really. But I was able to get a last-minute appointment with the plastic surgeon who got this ball rolling. Nice guy. The entire thing was the exact, complete opposite of Wednesday.
Today I left smiling. At peace. Able to breathe. NOT CRYING. SMILING.
I discussed the replacement of my breast tissue with an artificial blob of stuff and I left brimming with happy tears. What the ever-loving hell had just happened?!?!?!
Dr. S and his experience and his non-insulting demeanor and his straightforward answers. His resume. His full, detailed explanation of what we could do, detailing what could happen down the road should we need to make any changes.
Ok, so I did tell him to please, for the love of all things, not use the word “pendulous” or I would probably walk out. Bless his soul, he didn’t. He made me think that there is hope, realistic hope that I will look whole and like a woman, possibly even-gasp!- better. Sweet baby Jesus! He wants to use “gummy bear” implants, because they look and feel much better than either saline or other silicone implants. They’re what I originally wanted, and they really do, in your hands, feel significantly better. I can almost definitely keep my nipples. I can look like myself. I can move on with my life faster and with less trauma. And if things turn out poorly? We came up with solutions that I can live with, that I felt calm about. That I can accept.
And he encouraged me to go to the big cancer center for a second opinion, to give myself options and reassurance. There was no derision, no exasperation, no hubris.
I left and this was the song that came on, and it was perfect. So I turned it up all the way.
I CAN DO THIS. I’VE GOT THIS. I WIN I WIN I WIN
At least for today.
Today I’m winning the war. So here is my Warchant.