The time came to face the music. I recall reading an
interview of a friend who is also a survivor. She said she went home and had a
pity party after being given her cancer diagnosis. When no one showed up for
the party, she had to get up and face reality. My friend decided to make
lemonade out of lemons. Personally, I am no fan of pity parties; I do, however,
happen to love lemonade. I was not nervous on the way to the appointment. It
always helps when someone who cares about you calls at the right time and gives
some encouraging words. My friend’s positive words gave me strength. I found
myself feeling ready for whatever ‘He’ had in store for me.
I walked into the plastic surgeon’s office, and it looked
amazing. From the one-of-a-kind art pieces on the wall to the high-end lingerie
store in the waiting area. It felt like an office right out of Beverly Hills.
It didn’t feel like I was at the doctor. (That certainly helped!) The furniture
was beautiful. It appeared as if no cost was spared. From the chandeliers and
marble floors to the end tables, elegance surrounded me. The wait was not long,
and I was fortunate to have my sister was right by my side. I scanned the room
and noticed no one looked like me although everyone was pretty young. My name
was called. My sister and I both went back, and the consultation began. The
first thing I said after introductions was, “Ok, I’m still so young, and I’m
single--and I may want to have another baby.” I don’t even know why I was
saying those things. The words just burst out of me in a blurt. My doctor gave
me the nicest smile and said with such excitement, “Don’t worry, you’re going
to love your boobs! They’re going to be beautiful!!” Her smile was contagious,
and it put me at ease. My worry faded. I was confident I was in good
hands.
I had several questions. I wanted to know every detail about
what I was getting into with this surgery. My doctor was not only warm, she was
also personable and compassionate. (This made a big difference!) She answered
every question I had and them some. We talked for two hours. I had to know
every possible scenario that could happen. Fortunately, she didn’t mind. It
felt as if she would have sat for five hours if that was what I had needed. By
the end of the consultation, I felt like I could trust her. I had seen pictures
of her work, and it did look amazing!! At the end of the consultation, she
asked me to take my shirt off, and when I did her reaction was, “They are
beautiful!” I laughed and said, “I know! I love them!” She responded, “Don’t
worry, they will be even more amazing. You will love them even more!” I said,
“Whew! So there is a perk to this whole thing?” Still excited she said,
“Absolutely! Don’t worry!”
I learned that the young patients in the waiting area were
her breast cancer patients as well, and most of her patients were in the
twenties and thirties. That information blew me away!! I had no idea how
prevalent this cancer was in young women. Today, I know that breast cancer does
not discriminate with race or age. I still can’t help but wonder why women
aren’t told to start getting mammograms until they’re age 40. (That seems so
crazy to me now, especially having two daughters to think about).
I left the doctor thinking, “I’m going to loooove my boobs!”
My experience at the plastic surgeon’s office had been such a positive one.
This guided my outlook on the surgery and allowed me to stay focused on my
healing and the recovery. It also gave me the strength to block any negative
thoughts from entering my mind. Everything seemed to be happening so fast and
now I was ready to get past this. However, I knew I couldn’t—go through this
alone. I needed a team of support. It was time to tell my loved ones…
(to be continued…)
Tracy...this I am not a woman and I don't have man breast (LOL!!!) but I wait weekly to read you blog. I am so glad that you are sharing your story. I am sure there are many lives that are changing because of it. Great work! Great Nerve! Motivation to help!
ReplyDeleteCorwin