It never ceases to amaze me that I continue to find myself in foreign waters, wading through this entire Breast Cancer/reconstruction trek feeling lost... at loose ends. Every time I think that the questions and insecurity are behind me... I realize that I'm still spinning my wheels, trying to find answers, wishing someone else would drive this rig or at the very least, map out the trip for me.
I had resolved several months ago that I had to put my trust in my plastic surgeon and follow the path we had chosen and the instructions that went along with it. Everything seemed to happen so fast when all those decisions were being made. David & I sat nervously in the exam room, preparing ourselves for our first meeting with Dr. Miles. One of the doctor's assistants, Candice, a tall, rigid, blond woman came in and spoke to us. She had me remove my hospital gown and stand wearing my jeans, against the baby blue photographer's backdrop so she could take a photo to record my 'natural breasts'. She mentioned something about not worrying about my face being in the photo, it would only be my chest/torso, for future reference for the doctor. I remember wondering 'why would I care if my face was in it'? She asked about our home; 'do you have pets, any cats'? and went on to elaborate on how cat hair in mastectomy wounds could be tragic! We'd have to make sure I didn't get any cat hair anywhere near my body after my surgery. My mind trailed off and from there I could only hear 'wah wah wah' ... How the hell was I going to keep from getting cat hair on me? ... It's unreal the things you worry about... when you have so many things to really worry about.
As soon as Dr. Miles came in the room I had an immediate feeling of 'Organic Calm'. I'm not sure exactly what that means? Just a sense of being in the presence of a 'real person'. There was nothing fancy or 'plastic' about her. She seemed to have a good balance of compassion and professionalism. Her overall appearance was anything but 'plastic' and I for whatever reason found it very soothing to know I was putting my care in the hands of someone who made a living from making people look like Ginger... yet she chose to be a MaryAnn. We spoke about my natural breasts, which she referred to as 'perfect' (symmetrically speaking)... well perfect, aside from the DCIS.
She took some measurements and from then on our conversations regarding breasts were no longer focused on the 'perfect' ones that Mother Nature had given me... but the 'new, exactly as I wished them to be' breasts that she was going to create for me. We agreed that with my body structure, that having larger breasts would not only be flattering but also very well suited to my dimensions. All these years I've been saying 'My ribs are too big'... turns out my ribs were fine and my breasts were too small. And as fate would have it, that was about to change. And finally someone was going to start making some decisions for me or at least help me decide for myself.
And now I find myself, almost 3 months after my mastectomies, wondering who is making the decisions and if in fact... who exactly is at the wheel? With all of the frustration of my skin opening I think I fell off the program of putting my trust in Dr. Miles hands. I started wondering if she really did know what was best for me. As my shape started noticeably changing, I started listening to 'other people's opinions' and became unsure of my own feelings regarding our (mine & Dr. Miles) decision on our ultimate goal for size/structure of my breast reconstruction. A week ago I told her that I wanted to deter from the plans she had laid out for me and stop the expander fills sooner than planned. I was afraid of making the wrong decision, afraid of not being given the approval, that up until this point... I didn't even realize I wanted/needed.
I see now that in my haste to hurry up and wait, I had neglected to not only be sure I was doing what I wanted regarding my reconstruction, but also forgot to ask the questions that certainly needed answers. I need to assure myself that I am educated well enough to take the best care possible during my 'settling time'. Can I go swimming? Will the same incisions be reopened for the exchange surgery? Am I restricted from exercising my Pectoral muscles until (and beyond) the exchange surgery? What kind of massage can I do to keep scar tissue from forming?
I suppose fear/insecurity is the wolf that's always at our door... it's up to us to feed it and have it hang around... or ignore it and shut it outside... keeping it at bay. Or better still, teach ourselves what we need to know to keep us from hearing the scratching in the back of our minds. I think it's time to stop feeding the wolf and get back to nurturing myself.
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