Still Thinking

It was a rare moment as my one-year-old lay still on my chest.  I could tell he wasn't sleeping, just calm, looking out the window, hearing my heart beat.  These are the moments I always savor and soak in, but this time was especially sweet because I am planning to have breast reduction surgery before the end of the year.  I know I will be in pain for several weeks (or months?) afterward and I will miss hugs from my kids.   My heart grieves over things like this.  I am scared, nervous.  I am also excited, anticipatory.

I went to my first appointment with the plastic surgeon a couple weeks ago.  The nurse took my height, weight and general medical history.  She took my blood pressure.  She looked at the dial, then looked back at me, then back at the dial.  "Are you nervous?  Your blood pressure seems a little high."

Yes, I was nervous.  My heart was racing.  I was nearly scared out of my mind that the doctor would say, "no, you aren't a good candidate for the surgery."  Or worse, she would mirror my own mocking thoughts and say, "You don't really have a problem.  You're oversensitive.  You just need a good bra and you'll be fine!"

The truth is, I'm not fine.  My back hurts.  I feel weighed down.  I feel like I can't run outside to play with my kids without feeling like everyone is watching me "bounce".  When I was breastfeeding my babies, I was in agony trying to find supportive nursing bras.  I have to order all my bras online.  When you think about how many bras a "normal" woman tries on before finding a good fit, then add postage and hassle to the scenario, you will just begin to understand.  There have been many times that I was so hopeful a certain bra would fit only to have my hopes crushed...again and again.  Every bra I own hurts me.  Going without a bra hurts me.  Like water-drop torture, this struggle has become nearly unbearable.  I am terrified to go through surgery, but I am more terrified to go through the rest of my life with these burdensome bosoms.

To my relief, when the doctor came into the room, she got right down to business.  "Does your back hurt?  Do you have grooves in your shoulders from bra straps?  Do you have neck pain?  Headaches?  Irritation under your breasts?  Can you run?"
Yes.  Yes.  Yes.  Yes.  Sometimes. Nope.

The doctor took pictures, recorded measurements, and explained the procedure.  She said I could easily have 400 grams removed and restore a good proportion to my body, but warned me that some insurance companies require 500 for coverage.  My heart sank.  I was so afraid she'd say something like that.  I thought back to my postpartum moments of insanity when I wished I could just cut my breasts off myself and be done with it.  I told her I wouldn't mind even if she had to take a little more than I'd like.  I think she could see the fear in my eyes, because she reassured me that until the surgery is finished, all speculations about how much will be removed are only estimates.  I was amazed when she told me they would send the request forms to my insurance company for me!  I was certain I would be faced with a mound of paperwork and phone calls.

I asked if they had any photos of past patients.  After the doctor went on to her next patient, the nurse brought in a binder with photos.  The first few pictures were surgeries gone wrong.  One woman was a smoker and had bad circulation, so the bottom of her breasts were huge wounds rather than healing scars.  I was shocked that they would include a "failure" but in hindsight, I think that shows they aren't trying to hide anything.  Some of the pictures looked literally like the bride of Frankenstein, but others actually looked pretty good!  That was reassuring.

I am not overly concerned with my final appearance, but I don't want to look like a freak.  The pictures that were taken about a year after surgery looked almost normal.  There were some interesting pictures too.  One woman had a large tattoo on the top of her breast in the "before" picture, and in the "after" picture, her nipple was now in the middle of her tattoo.  It's probably hard to imagine it without seeing, but that's how far they moved her nipple.  It occurred to me the strangest thing about the pictures were not the scars, but the nipple placement.  The nurse explained to me that's where the nipple is "supposed" to be and that over time, gravity will continue the downward pull.

The nurse was very patient and kind answering all my questions.  My brain was mush from the stress of pursuing something so drastic.  When I got back out to my car, I just sat there for a few minutes mulling it all over.  I was still just plain scared.