Plastic surgeon and goodbye-boob party
On Thursday I had my first appointment with a plastic surgeon. First impressions certainly count, and though Serena disagrees, I thought the surgeon was cute. That’s one point in his favor. He’s young too, with 40 implant reconstructions in his portfolio. That to me is minus one point. At this time, however, I still have the second opinion appointment to go to, so I don’t have to make a decision right away. The surgeon thought that an implant would be the best option for me and he agreed that I could have a breast augmentation done on the other side to create more symmetry between the two boobs. If you ask Serena I was all giggly and proud when he told me I didn’t have enough fat on my stomach for a TRAM flap reconstruction!!! He actually said these exact words: you have such a pretty stomach, I don’t want to ruin that. I am still gloating, can you tell? I asked him so many questions in such a machine-gun sort of way, that Serena told me I was relentless. He was patiently answering all questions, humoring me with some gentle sarcasm. I liked that. Anyway he and my surgeon talked yesterday and scheduled a mastectomy with immediate reconstruction for November 3rd. In the meantime, I will talk to the other plastic surgeon on Oct 26 for a second opinion, then go from there. My surgeon, whom I have come to trust immensely, has told me that although this plastic surgeon I’ve seen first is younger and with less experience, his work is also excellent and she trusts him. So I’ll wait and see, then go with what she suggests. I figure that an implant job is much easier to fix anyway, if I don’t like the results.
As I came home from my appointment I met outside my house with a couple of friends who had just arrived for the goodbye-boob party I had arranged. I thought that, since my left boob has given me many gifts and pleasures (she breastfed my son, she gave me and my not-numerous-but-certainly-important lovers a good time, and she has been an important part of me for over 41 years), she deserves to be let go with a collective thankful celebration. So I invited my friends (female sex only) to a potluck party. What an attendance. I didn’t count, but there must have been over 20 women in my house and what a hoot!!!!! Food to die for, flowers, gifts and laughter that made my heart burst with joy and thankfulness. I am sure my boob was happy too. There were tears as well, which made me grateful that I have friends who can make me laugh but who also cry and worry for me. It may seem trite but I do indeed feel so lucky. We prayed together, thanking God for the gifts my left boob brought me, for the gifts of friendship and laughter. But we also prayed for those who, because of where they live, can’t be cured of diseases that are easily curable in the north of the world, for the injustice of all this and for the strength to work for justice. Then we charged the spring of the jumping mini boobs, wore the plastic boob glasses, tossed the sylicone boob against the wall, and drank another glass of wine.
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If I had a “goodbye testicle” party for male friends only, you’d be hurt and offended. And the irony is that men have boobs, too! Your blatant sexism astounds me.