Scar Tissue That I Wish You Saw..

Hi Everyone,
That Chili Peppers song has been stuck in my head for two days now. When I woke up from my surgery, which I thought was going to take two hours, the first thing I noticed was the clock. It said 2 PM. I went in at 8 AM. Even in my post op groggy state, I thought, 'what the hell?'. So then Dr. Foster comes in and tells me that it took him twice as long to do the implants because I had such bad scar tissue. He said it was like leather. I knew I had this scar tissue. My breasts, with the expanders, had these indentation creases on both sides, under the nipple. Like folds of fabric. They made my breasts look a bit deflated as if they needed to be expanded more. But in fact, it was scar tissue on the inside of my breasts pulling the skin inward so no matter how much you inflated me, the fluid just went somewhere else which led to my totally misshapen boobs. This whole time I was told that during the final surgery (which I just had), this scar tissue would be removed leaving me with nice round boobs. I guess it was a lot of scar tissue because not only did it take a really long time, but I still see the hint of a crease under my bandages. After all this, it seems silly to worry about something cosmetic like creases in my breasts only me and Greg will ever see, and my girlfriends or sisters if we are sharing a dressing room, which we don't really do anymore thankfully, so never mind. But, here I am, fretting away and worrying I am going to be forever fighting the formation of scar tissue. I think Dr. Foster mentioned physical therapy too. I was so out of it. They had to go in and give me extra drugs during surgery because I went in with one IV and came out with two. One of the IVs leaked fluid and I was left with a swollen hand which I thought was lymphoedema. Lymphoedema is that horrible condition that happens to a lot of people who get lymph nodes removed. It screws up their body's ability to circulate fluid and it gets trapped resulting in big puffy limbs (elphantiasis style) and they have to get a lot of massage therapy and wear spandex bandages for the rest of their life. I am a candidate for this lovely condition on my left side since I got twelve nodes removed. In the hospital there's lots of drama over where to take my blood pressure and start an IV since both procedures trigger lymphoedema. Some nurses like to put a sleeve on the left side as a reminder, some like to write a big note above my bed, others like to give me a bracelet. And even with all these warnings, there are still the nurses who grab my left arm and are about to prick or squeeze me and I have to say, 'Yeah, wrong side (moron)', but I leave the moron out because nurses are great and are only there to help and I am a nice person who just has no patience left which is different than a mean person who never had any to begin with.

Anyway, surgery in itself was fine. Greg drove me in with the baby in the backseat being a total angel. We had to be there at 6 AM and couldn't bear to ask anyone for help that early in the morning. It was very strange waking Sadie up for a change. She thought it was great and cooed all the way to the hospital and then fell asleep on the way back. We have the best baby.
I had to check myself in and do all the pre-surgery stuff by myself. It reminded me of the first time I went to chemo, when I was pregnant. There was this young woman there getting chemo in one of the chairs. She looked like she was in high school on her lunch break. I couldn't believe she was there alone. I couldn't believe anyone could go through any of that alone. She was very familiar with the whole procedure. Knew everyone by first name. She was hooked up, did her thing, and then grabbed her backpack and left. I thought I would never be comfortable with cancer in that way. Then there I was, filling out forms, tying myself in to the bleach scented gown and squeezing my (RIGHT) fist to get a vein to pop out without any thought about it. Like I lived there. So weird. The last thing I remember was being told to think of 'happy people and happy places' by a nurse who sounded like she had used that line one too many times. Waking up sucked because they really knocked me out. They knocked me out so much I forgot how to pee. Seriously. This can happen. Your body loses the ability to tell itself what to do. I had to get a catheter in me because I had so much urine, but could not pee. It was a nightmare. Think about it. You have to pee and you can't. Awful. Then all I could do was sleep for almost two hours straight. The post op nurse, who was great, her name was Kim, I think, kept saying it was because I was so comfortable. Yeah, no. It was because I had just been put under via massive drugs that were still in my system! Greg showed up around five and we started to make the moves to leave, and then I threw up. So we all slowed down a bit. They shot me up with some sort of anti nausea drug and then we were good to go. Finally. It's done.
I have been sleeping for the past two days and feel like I just woke up today. Linda helped out all day Saturday and part of Sunday so Greg could get a break. He's on tomorrow full time too after working all day today and having to work all day tomorrow. Hannah visited yesterday with Whitney. Here she is with the baby.



Hannah has the baby today. She's off with the baby doing errands for burning man and visiting her friend Susannah. Last minute decision. Hannah needs a break and what better way than Burning Man. I sat on the porch while she organized last year's burning man outfits (I mean costumes). If it wasn't for the heat, the dust storms and the porta potties, I would go just to see Hannah in all her burning man glory.
So now it's full on daycare decision mode. Wish me luck on that. And wish me luck that when these bandages come off on Wednesday, I see something like this...



This was my inspiration tear sheet (which will make my work mates giggle). It's a photograph from the book Nudes by Manuel Alvarez Bravo.
And let's hope they do not look like this....



Though seeing this makes me feel sorry for Vivica. Stupid Perez Hilton doesn't know this is scar tissue making those indentations. I feel for her.

And for no other reason than just because here's some family time courtesy of me, in bed, with nothing else to do but take videos of Sadie. I am calling this one Sadie, Greg, Frida, My Messy Bedroom and the Olympics.



Love,
Rosalie