Dating After a Mastectomy: DOs and DON’Ts, part two

Welcome to the second installment of Rachel Joy Horn’s tried-and-true-and-possibly-resulting-in-a second-dinner-invitation DOs and DON’Ts of dating post-mastectomy. Since writing my first post in November, I am still single. So maybe I have no clue what the hell I’m talking about.

A perk of being single is bringing my best friend to the company holiday party.

At least I had a really sexy date to the company holiday party…my best friend Jennifer.

Moving on…let’s start with a don’t:

DON’T get into the nitty gritty details of your BRCA mutation, of your surgery, of your breast reconstruction—whatever it is you’re discussing. I’m not encouraging you to avoid it and I’m certainly not asking you to lie, but there are some details you can share, and there are some that you might consider keeping between yourself, your family and your doctors.

If a guy wants to know about my BRCA mutation, I give him a quick overview of how I came to be tested for the mutation. I don’t focus on the exact meaning of a BRCA2 6056delC mutation (which I’d be lying if I said I fully understand), nor do I obsess over the statistics associated with a BRCA mutation. Instead, I try to deliver the details that make the most sense to understanding why I’d elect to have a prophylactic mastectomy.

When it comes to talking about the actual mastectomy surgery, I start with a basic “I replaced the stuffing on my boobs.” I then elaborate with a much more scientifically backed “I took out the potentially bad tissue and replaced it with implants.” (I think that’s what they write in the medical journals, right?) I avoid discussing the thrilling experience of emptying the bloody goo out of my Jackson Pratt drains, the pathetic feeling of not being able to lift myself up out of bed to shuffle to the bathroom, and the crippling fear of “Oh my god, are my nipples going to make it out of this alive?!”

As one might expect, the breast implants are what usually interest guys the most. Often they assume that I could pick any implant size I want, so I politely correct them (read: laugh in their face–hahaha, you dumb fool!) and let them know that there is a sort of science involved with selecting, based on factors such as a woman’s natural breast size and chest width. They then usually want to know if I “upgraded,” so to speak, at which point I say that I wear about the same bra size I did before my mastectomy.

And this is what a silicone implant looks like.

Ooo, implant. Squishy squishy.

Most of my concerns about oversharing stem from not wanting a guy to think I’m fragile or broken in some sort of way. I also worry about encountering queasy types; call me old school, but I wouldn’t want a date to pass out in the middle of appetizers. So instead of getting too detailed, I make an effort to highlight certain information about my surgery:

DO stress the positives. The biggest and most obvious positive is of course the dramatic reduction in breast cancer risk. But in my experience, there have been additional perks (bahaha pun) to the mastectomy and breast reconstruction.

Before my mastectomy, my wardrobe decisions were dictated by an evil overlord known as The Bra. Support was the name of the game, and if an outfit couldn’t be worn with a bra, it wouldn’t be worn at all. I was often forced to pass up halter tops and strapless dresses, or worse: I’d have to decide between chunky bra straps sticking out of a backless dress, or concealing all of it with a sweater. Talk about a Sophie’s Choice. These days, I can wear backless dresses and halter tops like it’s nobody’s business. My wallet sobs, but my wardrobe has never been happier.

Look Ma, no bra straps!

Look Ma, no bra straps!

If a guy has a sense of humor, I don’t hesitate to bring up the tummy tuck possibility. Using my mom’s mastectomy and breast reconstruction as an example, I talk about how, if I gain enough weight in the future, I could replace my breast implants with stomach fat. This is definitely a glamorization of a DIEP/TRAM flap procedure, and I don’t mention the arduous recovery process, which I saw firsthand with my mom, but hey—it could be seen as a positive. My mom is living proof of this, what with her new boobs and flat tummy. Where I notice a guy losing interest is when I mention “having fifteen kids and completely letting myself go so I gain enough weight to have big ol’ jugs.” Apparently guys don’t like that? Who knew?

Geez, Mom, put those things away before you take someone's eye out.

Geez, Mom, put those things away before you take someone’s eye out.

My final perk is, you might have guessed, visiting the Playboy Mansion. (It seems I rely on this topic a lot when dating…thanks, Trisha.) It certainly is a rare experience, and I’ve found that for some odd reason, men have a lot of respect for Hugh Hefner. I’m not sure why. Now unless you’re all holding out on me and you’ve been visiting El Mansion with your glorious implants, too, I’m going to assume that we don’t have that story in common. But that doesn’t mean your mastectomy hasn’t come with any unexpected perks. Were you interviewed by a news station and you’ve achieved a degree of local celebrity? Did you get a kick-ass new tattoo in honor of your surgery? There might be a silver lining to share after all.

Welp, it’s late and I’m tired, so I think I’ll sign off now. Must log into Tinder and remind myself why being single might actually be a good thing. #guysinLA #areallactors #wouldyouliketoseemyheadshot #crazycatlady?

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Dating After a Mastectomy: DOs and DON’Ts

So, Bryce and I broke up. Eight months ago. It didn’t seem like particularly crucial information to anyone’s life so I didn’t feel the need to shout it from the rooftops (and by that I mean, post about it on the Interwebz). But lately I’ve received questions from other women about dating after a mastectomy, so it’s time to come clean about the break up.

Now, before I regale you with my dating experiences as of late, I want to make sure all of you ladies out there know that Bryce and I did NOT break up because of my mastectomy, my breast reconstruction, or my BRCA mutation. In fact, Bryce was 100% supportive throughout the entire process and showed a great deal of maturity, for which I’ll always be grateful. We broke up because at 22 years old, two+ years with the same person feels like a lifetime.

Sometimes I miss that Abe Lincoln lookalike, it’s true. And I definitely miss his puggle Hendrix. But I have, for the most part, been enjoying the single life. And it does make for some interesting reading material for the ol’ blog. So in order to report back to my loyal readers and answer your question “How do you tell someone you’re dating about your mastectomy/implants/BRCA mutation?”, I’ve been doing some research. And I’ve learned some DOs and DON’Ts of dating post-mastectomy. Over the next few months, I’ll be posting my findings…starting with:

googlestalkecard

DON’T ask a your date if he or she has Google stalked you. Just don’t. I met a guy at a web developer meetup event, and we went out a few times. During one date, I decided I would tell him about my BRCA mutation and mastectomy, and since he was a computer programmer and had previously told me to check out his personal website, I assumed it was safe to ask him if he’d seen mine. In my head, this is how I imagined the conversation would play out:

  • Rachel: “So, did you Google me and find my blog?”
  • Guy: “Why yes, yes I did.”
  • Rachel: “And what did you think?”
  • Guy: “I thought your decision was brave and understandable. You are very smart and wise. I am in awe of your courage and good looks. Also, your writing is hilarious and the simple WordPress.com layout on your blog is not at all outdated. I would like you to meet my rich great aunt who owns the largest book publisher in the world. Oh and would you like to get married?”
  • Rachel: “OH…um…okay…”

The actual conversation went a bit differently:

  • Rachel: “So, did you Google me and find my blog?”
  • Guy: (confused) “…No…”
  • Rachel: (not convinced) “Are you SURE?”
  • Guy: “…I didn’t see it…” (Probably thinking to himself: Oh my god what is her blog about? Is she a serial killer? Porn star? Cult member?)
  • Rachel: “OH…um…okay…well it’s about breast cancer and stuff…”
  • Guy: (Runs away, screaming.)

OK, so he didn’t really run away screaming, but the horrified look on his face made it pretty obvious that I had made a fatal boo boo. Since I write this blog and I’ve received press coverage for it, I assumed that the guy–being well versed in the ways of the Internet–had already run a Google search of my name and had come across the blog and articles about me. I thought it would be an easy way to cheat and deal with the subject without having to explain it myself.

I was obviously wrong. I still had to explain it all to him–the BRCA mutation, the family history of breast cancer, the mastectomy, the implants–but I had to do it while fighting to convince him that I wasn’t hiding something really bad. Oh well. Lesson learned. Instead of asking guys if they’ve Google stalked me, I now try another tactic:

DO look for ways for your date to indirectly mention it (BRCA mutation, mastectomy, whatever “it” is) without knowing…I call these “topic triggers.” A few weeks after the failed date (which was also my LAST with said guy…hmm, I wonder why?) I went out with another guy, who I had met online. In my dating profile, I mentioned that I blog (in addition to other exhilarating hobbies, such as scrapbooking, playing with my cat, and being a grandma). A fellow writer, he was curious about my blog.

I explained to him that my blog is about hereditary breast cancer and preventative surgeries, a seemingly niche topic with a surprisingly big audience online. I mentioned that yes, I had undergone a prophylactic mastectomy and now had breast implants, but most of the conversation was focused on the blog and the actual writing of it. It ended up being a very valuable conversation for me, because he helped me sort through some issues I’ve been having as a writer.

It baffles me that I'm still single.


With a witty OKCupid profile like this, it’s a wonder I’m still single.

This tactic of subtly sneaking topic triggers into the conversation has worked well for me multiple times. For example, I’ve used my visits to the Playboy Mansion as a segue to my BRCA mutation and mastectomy. Guys are usually so excited that I’ve met Hugh Hefner that they don’t get freaked out by the big scary mastectomy topic.

Now I realize that not all of you run your mouth on a WordPress blog or frequent the Playboy Mansion, but there are other ways to sneak in topic triggers. Do you volunteer with any high-risk breast cancer groups or participate in charity walks for breast cancer? Those are hobbies to discuss. Maybe you’ve taken some time off from work for your surgeries and you’re preparing to go back? Talk about your return to the office.

If you try this and it backfires horribly…well…sorry. 5-carat diamond engagement rings are not guaranteed with this method. But stay tuned for more DOs and DON’Ts, and maybe you’ll find a gem after all.

Bye Bye Boobies: One year later

One year ago today I was lying in a hospital bed at UCLA Ronald Reagan Medical Center, extremely groggy and extremely happy. Part of it was from the pain medication, I’ll admit, but most of that happiness was caused by an overwhelming sense of relief.

aftermastectomy

Some women wait years between testing positive for a BRCA mutation and having a prophylactic mastectomy. I waited 140 days. 140 days of discontent. 140 days of suspicion. 140 days of self-loathing. 140 days of feeling like a stranger in my own body.

I went into my mastectomy on the morning of March 13, 2012 with anxiety and excitement, not knowing what would come next. I woke up in the afternoon without my breasts, but with the wonderful feeling of peace. A weight had been lifted: I wouldn’t have to think about breast cancer all the time, and I could get back to loving myself again.

One year later, I can say with confidence that I am once again glad to be me, Rachel Joy Horn. I don’t feel broken anymore, and I’m not living in fear of my body.

It’s been an interesting year, but looking back on it, certain moments that at the time felt awful were just hiccups along the way. Those Jackson-Pratt drains were horrendous, they really were–but whatever. My family didn’t care about them. My boyfriend didn’t mind them. My friends didn’t think they were weird. Despite them being a huge inconvenience to dressing like a normal human being, they didn’t stop me from having fun and being social.

At the time it was playing out, it felt as if the cellulitis infection and subsequent tissue expander removal would ruin my life. I literally sat in the hospital bed, Googling freezing-cold places I could escape to so I would never have to be seen in a swimsuit. But then I found a cotton prosthesis, and my mom made me a kick-ass mastectomy bikini with a waterproof falsie. And so I had One Ugly Summer…One Fun, Sunny, Active, Flat-Chested-on-the-Left-Side Ugly Summer.

One Ugly Summer…

Over the last year, I’ve learned that I have horrible veins and that I have fabulous friends. I’ve discovered that narcotics can give you migraines and that social networking can give you an incredible support community. I’ve realized that talking to doctors is crucial, just as talking to strangers is–you never know who understands and how they can help.

Sometimes I miss my breasts, or more specifically, my breast tissue. It’s a rare moment that I get jealous of another girl’s rack, but it happens. (I’m looking at you, Sports Illustrated cover Kate Upton.) My new boobs are not perfect…but then again, neither were my old ones. They are, however, mine, all 800 ccs and 14.2 cm of them, and they fit me. There are even glorious times when I think that I am the luckiest girl in the world for having them, like when I can wear a backless dress without a bra and not worry about sagging.

dress

Okay, so I’ve never actually worn this dress…but just knowing that I CAN wear it is what matters.

For all of the women going through breast reconstruction right now, I ask you to please be patient. I know that it can seem very disheartening, what with all the scars and the weird shapes and the rippling. But things will look better, just wait…and maybe ask your plastic surgeon about some nipping and tucking.

To my friends and family, thank you for the flowers, the pillows, the sweet treats, the fuzzy elephants, the magazines, the nail polish, the phone calls, the text messages, the cards, the hospital visits…the love.

To acquaintances who have reached out to me with words of support and encouragement, thank you for your courage to speak up.

To my work colleagues, thank you for understanding my circumstances and for accommodating me with such graciousness.

To the wonderful ladies online going through something similar, thank you for your bravery and for your willingness to share your experiences to help me and others like me.

One year has gone by so fast, and I know part of that is thanks to all of you. Before I know it, I’ll have had my implants for ten years and it’ll be time to replace them. But let’s not rush that. =)

 

They’re even at last!

Monday was my final final final *crossing my fingers* surgery. Going into it, I felt a little like Veruca Salt. “I want perfect boobs Dr. Festekjian and I want them NOW!” “Festekjian…how much do you want for the perfect boobs? Name your price!” (I guess the answer to that will be arriving after the insurance adjustment in a few weeks!)

But really though. I did feel a bit…oh what should I say…spoiled? After all, I emerged from November’s implant exchange surgery with a pretty decent rack. After the swelling went down and I let things settle in for a month or two, I realized they were a good size and shape. But they weren’t perfect. And perfect is what I wanted, because, well–why not? After all of this–a mastectomy and an infection and reconstruction and all of these surgeries in the name of not getting breast cancer–I might as well get exactly what I want.

The main problems were the unevenness in nipple height and the rippling on the right side. But even the week before the surgery, when I sent an updated photo to a blog follower, she said they looked great and she thought I had already had the surgery to adjust the nipple height! For a moment there I considered canceling the surgery because I didn’t want to push my luck.

But…obviously I didn’t cancel it, and I’m sure glad I didn’t.

Per my usual routine, I spent all of Sunday chugging water like a crazy person to prepare my tiny veins to be poked and prodded. My mom picked me up from my apartment at 6:00 am on Monday morning. Jeani, bless her heart, had scheduled me for the earliest appointment because of the snafu that happened last time.

I checked in at the outpatient surgery center, changed into the sexy hospital gown and matching accessories, then chatted with a nurse. It’s kind of strange when you start to recognize the doctors and nurses…I’m pretty sure this particular nurse, who has been a vegan for over twenty years and always eats salad for lunch, has checked me in three times.

The most miraculous thing happened next. Brace yourself, because what you are about to read may rock your world and make you question everything you know.

A nurse anesthetist came in to talk to me about the anesthesia cocktail and start my IV. She was young, kind…unassuming. Little did I know of the POWERS SHE POSSESSED.

As is custom, my mom and I launched into our tirade about my horrible veins and the atrocities that have befallen me at the hands of IV nurses and anesthesia doctors alike in the walls of the UCLA Medical Center: the constant pokes, the unyielding veins, the need to “call in the big guns” and of course, the multiple PICC lines.

UNSCATHED by these warnings, the young nurse did persist with a smile. “I’ll have to numb you up then!” Haha, you fool! Numbing medicine will do nothing but make my uncooperative veins further retreat into the depths of my wrist/hand/arm/foot/every other part of my body, I mused as she left the room.

Moments later she returned carrying a tiny needle and an IV kit. As she stationed herself to my left, the noble Dr. Festekjian appeared, clad in a red track jacket. As we exchanged the standard hellos, the young nurse poked me with the numbing needle, warning me of a slight sting. “‘Twas nothing”, I murmured.

Then she started the long, daunting process of stabbing me with the IV needle to find a vein. I settled in for the long haul, turning my attention to Dr. Festekjian, when suddenly…within seconds…the voice of an angel rang out.

“All done! Your IV is started.”

A MIRACLE. It took her only ONE TRY, only ONE MEASLY POKE, to start my IV. I wanted to hug her, become her best friend, then follow her around from place to place for the rest of my life so she can always be the one to start my IV.

I was giddy with excitement at this point, but tried to remain steady while Dr. Festekjian played Connect the Dots on my chest with the pretty sterile pen. I figured that if I moved too much and the lines were uneven, it would be my own damn fault if my nips still looked lopsided.

A few minutes later the happy drugs were put into my IV, I was wheeled into the operating room, and then I was out. By 10 am I was awake in the recovery room, and I was discharged by 10:30 am.

Wisely, Dr. Festekjian warned my mom that I would be very bruised and very swollen for a while, possibly with some dimpling. I’m sure he was hoping to avoid the “WTF!” email he received last time. Even with the painkillers, I could definitely feel a dull soreness on my right side where he did all of the work. Even the arm fat near my armpit was super bruised.

I stayed home from work yesterday and today and took a shower this morning. I’m on antibiotics for a few days, and I’m definitely swollen; my right breast looks about one cup size bigger than the left breast, like I have a 1000 cc implant in there instead of 800 cc. And there is certainly some dimpling, mainly where the stitches are holding the skin up. But the nipples sure seem even and the alloderm seems to have gotten rid of the rippling, so I can’t wait to see how they look in a week or two!

My post-op with Dr. Festekjian is on Tuesday morning. I feel okay right now, still a bit sore, but I’ll be returning to work tomorrow. I did go on an hour-long walk this evening to stretch my legs, and that felt great. Hopefully I’ll get permission to head back to the gym next week. Interestingly enough, I am using my pit pillow again. It works well to support my arm when I’m on my computer and when I’m sleeping. Thanks again to my friend Kim who originally introduced me and my mom to pit pillows!

Pictures soon. Right now I’ve got them tucked up nicely in a sports bra so I don’t really feel like digging them out of there.

Instead, I leave you with a photo of the Chester Bug, keeping me company while I worked from home today. Isn’t he just the cutest little kitten? (Yes. I’m that person now. #instacat #catstagram #ilovemycat.)

photo(7)

 

At last, a surgery I can actually call “cosmetic”

Greetings!

First off, I want to thank all of my readers for supporting Young Previvors after our Facebook trouble a few weeks ago. Our original group has not been restored yet, nor have we heard anything from Facebook about why the group was deleted. We have, however, started a new Young Previvors group. Our admin, Liz, continues to do a phenomenal job of screening all potential new members, so if you are a previvor or a high-risk young woman, consider joining us. You can email me or search for “Young Previvors” on Facebook.

Things have been uneventful in my world of breast reconstruction, but they’ll pick up a bit in a few weeks. My final-final-final-last-one-I-seriously-promise-you’ll-never-have-to-read-about-it-again-unless-it-looks-ugly surgery is on Monday, February 25. Dr. Festekjian will be doing some minor cosmetic adjustments.

When I saw Dr. Festekjian at my two-month post-op a few weeks ago, I was still concerned about the difference in height between my nipples. Although they’ve certainly improved since my initial implant exchange surgery, the right nipple is still noticeably lower than the left.

At the appointment, Dr. Festekjian asked me point-blank which side I like more. I told him the left side, and to my relief, that was the acceptable answer. He can make my right side match my left side, but because of the extensive work he did on my left side during the implant exchange surgery, he can’t make the left side match the right. Unless, he joked, I get an infection on the right breast. Har har har. Funny.

In the outpatient surgery, he will lift up the right nipple and put some internal stitches in place so it sits higher. He will also add a layer of alloderm underneath my skin, to cover up the rippling. I plan to take a few days off work, but given my quick recovery from the past surgeries, I expect to be back in the office by Thursday. Watch…now that I’ve said that, I’ll have some horrible allergic reaction to the ice cubes in the recovery room and be bed-stricken for the next two months.

Okay, moving on: I have some very important and exciting news to share with everyone. I’d like to introduce you to Chester Frito Horn, my new furry child.

photo-38

He’s an 18-week-old American medium hair. I officially adopted him from the animal shelter at 11:30 am on Saturday morning, then promptly sent him across the street to the vet surgery center to have his balls removed. Sorry, bug…YOU’RE IN MY WORLD NOW.

I picked him up this afternoon and he seems to be doing just fine. Here he is, Cone of Shame and all. He is now, in my parents’ words, a consultant.

photo-37

Cat people: how can I get him to stay off of the kitchen counter? I’m scared he’s going to set his tail on fire with the pilot lights on the stove!

Have a fantastic week, everyone. Happy Valentine’s Day!

 

Wrapping up 2012 and welcoming 2013

Hi friends! I hope you all had a great holiday, whatever you celebrate. Over here at the law firm of Horn, Horn & Horn, we celebrate Hanukkah and Christmas.

It’s been more than a month since my implant exchange surgery, and I am much happier with how the implants have settled in. There is still some difference in nipple height, but I think the breasts have evened out  in size and look much more similar.

People have asked me what size I am now. The answer? 14.2 cm 800 cc–duh, obviously.

Don’t worry. I get it. Unless you’re Dr. Festekjian, that means nothing to you. It doesn’t really mean much to me, either. While Christmas shopping at Target a few weeks ago, I bought a cheap bra on a whim. I tried on three different sizes: 36C, 36D, and 38D. The 38D bra fit the best, so right now that’s my size, but I will go to a professional to be fitted soon. (And FINALLY use the Victoria’s Secret gift card my dear friend Anna gave me right after my mastectomy–whoohoo!)

I’ve been dressing up a lot and I love it. If you know me offline, you know that I prefer comfort over style. My weekend uniform consists of yoga pants, a tank top, and sneakers. Sometimes I shake things up with a sweatshirt if I’m feeling daring (or cold). But since I have these brand spankin’ new boobs, I’ve been looking for an opportunity to show them off! Luckily, this holiday season did not let me down.

At the beginning of December, I went to Vegas for my sorority sister Cami’s bachelorette party.  My favorite thing about going anywhere with sorority sisters is that we all share clothes. On Friday night, I wore one of Jennifer’s dresses and I actually had CLEAVAGE for the first time since March! Sorry, Bryce.

The next weekend was my company’s holiday party at the SLS Hotel in Beverly Hills. It was amazing. There were EEL TACOS. EEL FREAKIN’ TACOS. I used that magical Forever 21 gift card to buy a cute strapless dress for the party, and I even got to wear my giant heels because Bryce is 9 1/2 feet tall!

SLS hotel party

“Hey Bryce, how’s the weather up there?”

AND THEN…Cami and her fiance Nick got married this past Saturday! Their wedding was at the Balboa Bay Club in Newport Beach. It was a small, intimate ceremony. Cami looked beautiful! Nick is a lucky man.

I wore the pink dress I wore to my graduation dinner in May. The only difference was that this time I had two boobs! Last time I had one tissue expander and one falsie. I think I prefer the two boobs.

Sorority sisters! From left to right: Jennifer, Marissa, Cami, Danielle, Rachel, Nora

Sorority sisters! From left to right: Jennifer, Marissa, Cami, Danielle, Rachel, Nora

Clearly, I’ve come a long way in my crazy mastectomy journey. But it’s not over yet. I like my implants now. I think they are a good size and they look and feel natural. However, I’m not in love with them.

Should I go back to Dr. Festekjian and ask him to do more work on them? Maybe. Probably. But even then, I won’t be IN LOVE with them. Because I am not IN LOVE with the rest of my body! Until I am completely happy with how everything else looks, I’ll never be 100% satisfied with my implants.

So 2013 is going to be about changing my body the difficult way…without plastic. I’ve struggled with my weight all my life. (Literally, all my life. I learned over Christmas that I weighed over NINE POUNDS when I was born. HOLY SHIT.) Anyway, 2012 was one of those struggle times because of the mastectomy. Now it’s time to get back into shape.

"Stop right now, ma'am! Put the spoon down and back away slowly."

“Stop right now, ma’am! Put the spoon down and back away slowly.”

Here are some of my goals for the new year:

  • Develop some upper body strength. If my arms look toned, my implants will look better. I am going to keep seeing my physical therapist Jenni to learn how to do this safely.
  • Get my abs back. Believe it or not, for the first half of high school, my stomach was really toned. I did Pilates all the time and it really worked! Then, for whatever reason, I stopped. And on came the flab.
  • Get back into spinning. It’s my favorite workout, because it’s effective, and everyone looks like shit afterwards. I know that sounds harsh, but I’m a sweater; no, not a cardigan–someone who sweats a LOT. I hate working out at the gym next to girls with immaculate hair and makeup who look amazing the entire time. NO ONE looks good after 45 minutes on the stationary bike at a spin class.
  • In addition to spinning, I want to try more cardio. I am going to join a local gym, probably the YMCA, and I plan to take advantage of the classes offered. Dance Aerobics and Zumba both sound pretty fun to me.
  • Eat out less and cook more (good for the waistline and the wallet!). I need to learn how to cook and be more adventurous with my meals. A few weeks ago, a friend made Bryce and me enchiladas for dinner. He put spinach and mushrooms in mine because I’m a vegetarian. They were DELICIOUS. I would have never thought to put spinach in an enchilada…it was life-changing
  • Buy a castle.
  • Appear on Jeopardy.
  • Win Jeopardy.

I’m not sure yet how I am going to measure my success. My friend at work, Garineh, had a similar New Year’s resolution for 2012.  She wrote a blog post on eHow with tips for keeping a resolution. I’ll develop my actual numerical goals based on some of her advice.

One thing is for sure: once I meet my goals, I will have Michelle Obama’s arms, Gwen Stefani’s abs, Wolfgang Puck’s skills, and Warren Buffett’s wealth. (Yeah, that’s how often I eat out now and how much I plan to win on Jeopardy!) Oh and this castle.

What are your goals/resolutions for 2013? Happy new year, everyone!

Settling down, physical therapy, and a little bit of Pam Anderson

Let me start with a huge THANK YOU to the wonderful people who congratulated and endorsed me for the WeGo Health Rookie of the Year Award. Your kind words, thoughts and support always make me grateful. Nominations end December 31, and judging follows shortly. I will keep you all posted, and if you would like to endorse me or share my endorsement link with someone else, here’s the URL: http://badges.wegohealth.com/endorse-me?referrer=f7fq%22

It’s been exactly three weeks since the “big unveiling” after my implant exchange surgery. You’ll remember that I was less than pleased with what I saw in the mirror: my left nipple seemed to be about twelve feet higher than my right nipple, and all together the left breast appeared much smaller and tighter. I never thought I’d end up with a rack like Pam Anderson’s after the surgery, but I also didn’t think I’d end up looking like a little kid playing dress up with socks and tissues in her mommy’s old bra.

Hey…I’m a vegetarian too…maybe my boobs WILL end up looking like Pam’s after all!

Dr. Festekjian told me to give it time to settle, even going so far as to suggest that I STOP thinking about my breasts for a while. Fat chance, Dr. Festekjian.

Well I have to give the man credit–he was right. The left breast has settled a lot, looking rounder and less tight, and the nipples are also much more even. Dr. Festekjian said to wait two months, but it’s not even one month after the surgery and I can already see a big difference!

I guess he does know a thing or two about plastic surgery. He’s more than a pretty face, you know.

At my post-op appointment after the implant exchange surgery, he wrote me a prescription for physical therapy. I researched offices in the area that accept my insurance and landed on a place nearby called Women’s Physical Therapy.

In addition to standard sessions with physical therapists, Women’s Physical Therapy offers massage therapy, Pilates and yoga. They specialize in breast cancer rehabilitation, including post-reconstruction.

My first appointment was Tuesday, December 4. I met with a PT named Jenni. As it was an introductory session, we spent a fair amount of time discussing my mastectomy, complications, and ultimately reconstruction, as well as my goals (get strong in a healthy, safe way) and current exercise plan. Then she took some baseline measurements and stretched me out. The stretching was almost like an upper-body massage; she did a lot of kneading. Knowing that my left implant needs to drop and settle, she showed me stretches I can do at home to help.

Jenni then assigned me some resistance band exercises to work my triceps, biceps and shoulders. I’m supposed to do them every night, and right now they are so simple (just one set of 10 reps) that it takes less than five minutes.

I’ve met with Jenni twice, and I also had an appointment with the Pilates instructor, AnnaLisa. In high school I did mat Pilates DVDs all the time. (Side note: if you are ever in the market for a Pilates DVD, pick an Ana Caban series. AVOID MARI WINSOR LIKE THE PLAGUE SHE IS SO ANNOYING.) This Pilates session was NOTHING like the Pilates I remember! Nope…there was no Seal, no Corkscrew…not even a measly Roll-Up!

Instead AnnaLisa had me focus on very small movements using my muscles in ways I’ve never tried. There was no cardio involved, yet I felt like I did get some sort of a workout. It wasn’t easy! Who knew drawing circles in the air with my elbows could be so tiring? Oy, I was exhausted after!

After my sessions I’ve felt a bit sore, but it’s not alarmingly painful. It’s almost more of a pleasant indicator that the sessions are working and that my upper body muscles are being stretched out and strengthened just a little bit each day.

I have another session with a physical therapist on Friday, and then a few more next week. My schedule is spotty since I signed up with the office so late in the year and I can only stop by in the early morning or late afternoon. Hopefully I’ll be able to set up a steady plan for 2013.

Speaking of 2013, what’s everyone doing for New Year’s and the holidays? Bryce and I are going up to Yosemite for Christmas, where we’ll see my parents and my cousin Justin. Then we’ll be celebrating New Year’s in Redondo Beach. But before all that there’s my company holiday party this Friday night. I stumbled upon a Forever 21 gift card in my wallet (lucky find), so I’m going to treat myself to a new dress for the party–my first since the implant exchange surgery!

Well, I’m signing off. It’s bed time! Now if I could just pry this giant sleeping baby off of my lap…

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I’m sorry Bryce, I had to do it. You just look too cute in that onesie.

Ten days after my implant exchange surgery

It’s been ten days since my implant exchange surgery. I admit that I originally planned to post about it much sooner, but emotions took me by surprise and I decided to wait a bit longer. Details about that to come later in this post.

My implant exchange surgery was at the UCLA Outpatient Surgery Center. I was told to arrive between 9:30 and 10 in the morning. I got there on time and completed the necessary paperwork after changing into the lovely surgery garb. Then I waited. And waited. And waited. By 11:45 am, Mom and I were rather annoyed. We were told that Dr. Festekjian was still in surgery from an earlier case.

It’s frustrating…but there’s nothing you can really do in that situation. If some sort of complication happened during my surgery, I’d want Dr. Festekjian to care about fixing it instead of trying to rush so he could get to his next case.

Finally Dr. Festekjian came by around 12:30 pm and drew all over me in marker. My chest looked like a game of Connect the Dots. Then the anesthesiologist stopped in to ask me a few questions and to start my IV. If you’ve been following my blog, you know about the IV drama. Well, the saga continued with this most recent surgery:

I mentioned to the anesthesiologist that I have very bad veins. After much prodding and examining, he informed me that “whoever said you had bad veins was wrong; you have NO veins.”

Well, shit.

He first tried my left hand. The needle went in and he poked around for a while but couldn’t get into a good vein. Ouch. Then he got wise and gave me a numbing shot, got down on his knees and poked my left wrist. After a few minutes he struck gold. Rejoice! No more poking. After he finished, he remarked that I could now put it on my CV that I “bring doctors to their knees.”

My veins really piss me off. Let me just rant for a minute: WHY ARE THEY SO AWFUL?! The day before my surgery I drank more than 80 ounces of water just to plump them up. And it was all for naught, because I still had to get stabbed multiple times! BLEHHHHH.

After the IV fun, I was wheeled into the operating room. That’s always a strange experience, because the anesthesia sleepy medicine has just been administered so I start to feel a bit giddy but I’m still coherent. Also, the operating rooms are never what I expect them to look like. I guess I’ve seen too many dramatic operating room scenes on TV.

Well I guess I conked out, because a while later I woke up in a recovery room to the sight of my friend Dustin, a first year UCLA medical student. Dustin and I went to high school together. He stayed with me for about 45 minutes, which was nice because it forced me to stay awake and to come out of my loopy state.

I was discharged around 4 pm and at my parents’ place in Redondo Beach by 5:30 pm. Bryce had a nice cold Jamba Juice waiting for me, and my mom whipped up some tomato soup. Yum. (I could really go for that right now, actually…)

All in all, the surgery process and immediate recovery was very reasonable. I did not take any narcotic pain meds (Tylenol was fine), and I could move around the house with relative ease.

Wednesday morning was the “big reveal,” the first time I would see my implants after surgery. I woke up early, excited to see them. I stood in front of the bathroom mirror, eyes closed, while Mom helped me cut off the ace bandage bra. The bandages were removed…I opened my eyes…and…

bleh. Bleh bleh bleh. I was not happy. My new breasts looked completely uneven. The left side was small and tight, while the right side seemed large and droopy. The nipples were no where near even. North and South Pole!

I stared for a while and then started to get emotional. Mom snapped some pictures and fired off a distraught email to Dr. Festekjian. I texted Bryce a very cryptic “my boobs look bad I’m sad leave me alone” kind of text, posted a quick “OMG” message to the Facebook previvor group, then cried myself back to sleep.

A few hours later I woke up to a reply from Dr. Festekjian and a bunch of comforting messages on Facebook. Apparently I was the only person in the world who did not know that you cannot judge the implants’ appearance immediately following surgery. Things are swollen, bruised, tight, uneven. They need to settle, and that takes time–weeks to months, even.

In addition to his email reply, Dr. Festekjian called later that day. He explained in detail that my left side had more scar tissue from the infection, so he did much more work on that side. Over time that side will drop and adjust to match the right side.

Well…that makes sense. The more he explained, the more I understood. He said he was still very happy with the results and could see symmetry in the breast folds. I don’t particularly know what that means, but a happy Dr. Festekjian is never a bad thing.

The reason I didn’t post on my blog that day or even the day after is that I didn’t want to be too emotional and scary. Emotion is good–and it’s honest–but I didn’t want my uneducated, post-surgery freakout to worry someone else who might be having the surgery. I hope that makes sense.

Yesterday I had a post-op appointment with Dr. Festekjian. Already he can tell that the left side is settling more. He said I should give it about eight weeks to relax into place, and that my right side will not drop anymore. We discussed options for after that eight weeks is up, incase I’m still not happy with the results. Fat grafting could be done to fill out “bumpy” areas (such as underneath the breast) and nipple alignment could also be adjusted. Insurance will cover those procedures since they are still a part of breast reconstruction.

I’m very pleased to know that I have options in the near future if I’m still not happy. But for now I’ll try to give it a rest and let nature take its course. Dr. Festekjian advised me to “stop thinking about your breasts for a little while.” I’m not so sure I’ll ever be able to do that, but I’ll try.

For now I leave you with these two comparison shots of the tissue expanders and implants. The implant shots were taken this evening. Also, if you are interested in seeing a comparison shot without the sports bra, send an email to rachel@tickingtimebombsblog.com. If I determine that you are not a creepy spammer/stalker, I will send you the pic.

 

My implant exchange surgery is on Monday!

That’s right. You read that correctly: I GET MY SILICONE IMPLANTS ON MONDAY.

I’m going to be honest with you–that’s something I never in a million years would have expected to ever say, write or even think in my life. Me? Breast implants? Nah, never, not for me…but it’s happening! I’ll eat those thoughts with a fork and spoon (just not after midnight on Sunday).

After more than one year since finding out about my BRCA mutation and more than eight months since my original mastectomy, I am finally going to be done with surgery.  I almost don’t believe it’s real, but it is–two breasts, four Jackson-Pratt drains, three tissue expanders, one cellulitis infection, two falsies and many wireless bras later.

I had a pre-op appointment with Dr. Festekjian on November 8. He told me my implants will either be 700 ccs or 800 ccs, most likely Natrelle style 45 silicone. A few posts earlier I said that I probably wouldn’t get those implants because they’re very narrow, but Dr. Festekjian knows that I am most concerned about projection and they offer the highest projection. The total size of the implant (700 vs 800 ccs) depends on the width he needs to cover (13.5 cm or 14.2 cm).

At this point I’ve really stopped worrying about what size my implants will be. I trust Dr. Festekjian’s judgment completely. He did such a good job with my tissue expanders; people are always surprised to find out that my tissue expanders aren’t actually my permanent breast implants.

The night before my surgery I plan to take some photos of my chest with tissue expanders. I really want to create a visual of the different “stages” of breast reconstruction. The final stage photos won’t be ready for a few weeks since there will be swelling after the surgery.

Sigh. It’s happening. Finally.

It’s the most wonderful time of the year!

And no, I don’t mean Christmas…

It’s time to think about implant sizing! YAYYYYYYYYYY!!!!! [as I type this, I imagine children across America are cheering with delight–because the only thing better than Christmas coming early is that annoying girl with the blog getting her damn breast implants already!]

But seriously. It really is time for me to start thinking about what size I want my implants to be. No pressure, though. I’ll only be stuck with them for ten to fifteen years.

On Thursday morning I had a tissue expander fill with Dr. Festekjian. He filled me up with 75 ccs on the left–yowza, slow down there, Dr. F! No but please don’t, 75 ccs was awesome, thank you. I am now at 525 ccs on the left and 550 ccs on the right. We’re almost even!!!!

At next week’s fill with Maria, I will get 75 ccs on the left and 50 ccs on the right, putting me at 600 ccs on each side. I’m sure what you all want to know is what cup size is that?!

Yes, I’d like to know that, too. So this morning I started to investigate.

The world of tissue expanders and breast implants is terrifying. I have emerged from the deep, dark pit of the Interwebz even more confused than when I started.

This is what I have discovered: I have two Natrelle Style 133SX tissue expanders. They are each 14 cm wide. According to the Natrelle catalog, they have a height of 12 cm and a projection of 7.1 cm and are considered “extra-projection range.”  What does that all mean? No idea.

At this point, I am abandoning the science of it until I can talk with Dr. Festekjian, Maria or Jeani about it in person next week. Instead, I am going to play a kind of twisted form of dress up: the Breast Implant Rice Test! Or, in my case, The Breast Implant Israeli Couscous Test!

A few months ago, Jeani explained this test to me but I brushed it off as pretty much ridiculous. However I came across it again today and decided to just try it. 7/8 cup of Israeli couscous and a knee-high nylon sock (sorry Mom) in hand, I ventured into my room.

If “gummy bears” are the Prada of the implant world and silicone is the Coach, then Israeli couscous and nylons must be the Walmart brand.

Why 7/8 cup of Israeli couscous? Well, the handy little chart from www.justbreastimplants.com said that 1 cup of rice was roughly equivalent to 236 ccs, while 3/4 cup was about 177 ccs. Since my tissue expanders can hold a maximum of 750 ccs and my right expander is currently at 550 ccs, I wanted to experiment with about 200 ccs…so 7/8 cup of couscous sounded accurate.

Here’s the results–keep in mind I only tried the test on my right breast, since my left tissue expander is still a few ccs smaller:

Now obviously it looks a bit awkward with the rest of the nylon sticking out, but the test was more successful than I expected.

Yet I still don’t know how I feel about the size potential! The fact is that tissue expanders are shaped differently than breast implants. I need to find out from Dr. Festekjian what kind of implant he plans to use. Right now, when I look at myself head-on, my chest seems to be very filled out; but when I see myself from the side, it still seems very small. I guess this has to do with the tissue expander being wide?

Perhaps next weekend I will try the rice test again, but on both sides (since they’ll finally be the same size again!)

Can anyone speak to their experience with implant sizing?

In other news, I’m sick–but don’t worry, it’s (for once) NOT related to my tissue expanders! On Tuesday I started to develop a sore throat, and by Wednesday afternoon I could barely talk. I stayed home sick from work on Thursday. I felt AWFUL…couldn’t swallow because my throat was so sore, couldn’t sleep…finally saw a doctor on Friday and I’m on antibiotics now. I know, right–more antibiotics?! Ha. Let’s hope I don’t get sick for years after this, because all that nasty little bacteria is going to be SO antibiotic-resistant!

I’m feeling much better today. My mom is coming home today from Yosemite. I heard my dad on the phone with her yesterday, remarking about how I was a horrible patient. (Note to Dad: Yeah, yeah, stick it in your ear. Who do you think I got it from anyway? Plus, here’s a direct quote from “Jewish as a Second Language“, the book you gave me to read:…should illness or injury strike you, it’s your duty to stay sick as long as you can. Keep using those crutches. Prop them up where everyone can see them. Flash that sling. Enlarge that bandage. Who knows when you’ll be dealt this card again?“)

It’s a good thing Mom is coming home now, because it’s probably her fault I’m sick. Let’s think about this for a minute: where was my mom when I got my cellulitis infection? The Grand Canyon. Where was my mom when I thought I had another infection a few weeks ago? Yosemite. Where was my mom when I got sick this past week? Yosemite, again.

COINCIDENCE? I THINK NOT! Once again, my mom has found a way to SINGLE-HANDEDLY ruin my life.

OK, I’ll stop dicking around now–I hope you all know I’m just being a brat for the sake of humor and that it’s an inside joke with my mom that was started in like, middle school.

I only mention being sick this week because, as much as it sucks, it’s kind of cool in a way that it wasn’t related to my mastectomy or reconstruction at all! It was just because I’m a normal person who can contract normal person contagions from other normal people. I’m normal, ya’ll!

Now go wash your hands so I don’t get sick again, thanks.