I've had two surgeries since the beginning of this year. One was elective and one was unexpected.
I have thought and thought about whether or not to post about these experiences and I have come to the conclusion, that each experience can either tear you down or wake you up and build you into a new and better person.
Each time I face a challenge, I face that choice. Let it tear me down, or let it let it build me up.
Challenge #1: Elective surgery
I've been saying since I was 16 that I would get breast augmentation. So when the money was saved up I was the first one in line to the plastic surgeons door. I set a date and was ready to go!!!
I was so excited.
Now. I think all women's bodies are beautiful so to each their own opinion. For me, I thought my self esteem could use some help and this might do the trick.
I was nervous for the surgery but figured that was normal.
I waited and waited and waited.
Finally it was surgery day!
Here's where the story starts to twist. Here is where my challenge begins.
I get prepped for surgery, say goodbye to my husband, and last thing I remember thinking is, "Next time I wake up.......I will have boobs!"
Instead.......I woke to a nightmare.
The two figures in front of me were incredibly blurry. Despite the disfigured people I saw in front of me, I could tell one was some kind of medical staff and the other, my husband.
I try with all my might to keep my eyes open, because I can hear them whispering to each other. My intuition kicked in and I could tell by the feeling in the room, something wasn't right.
"Should you tell her, or should I?" says a woman's voice.
"No. I can tell her." says kirt.
"Teeeeeeellllllll mmmmmeeeeeee wwwhhhhaaatttttt?????" I slowly slur.
They both turn. Not only surprised I am awake but that I am understanding what they have been talking about.
Kirt rushes to my side.
"Hey babe......You're awake! How are you feeling? What can I-----"
"Tell me what?!" I interrupt him.
"Oh honey. You just woke up. Maybe--"
"Tell me what?!" I ask again.
Kirt hesitates for a moment and my heart sinks a little and I don't know why, "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry niki.......it didn't work......."
I look down at my chest and it is wrapped and I feel pain. I am so confused. I try to sit up and am too weak. A single tear falls down my cheek and I say....
"What do you mean it didn't work?"
So Kirt began to explain.
It turns out that I have a severe, severe, severe connective tissue disorder. We knew I had a connective tissue disorder, we just didn't know how severe. Despite this knowledge, we all felt that plastic surgery would be ok for my body. The Surgeon proceeded with the surgery and as soon as he opened me up, to his surprise, I had slim to no connective tissue to work with. (Apparrently, if you have no connective tissue, there is nothing to hold the implant in place.)
When he made the incision, instead of having to cut through flesh and connective tissue to get through or close to the chest muscle, my chest just opened straight to the chest muscle. There was just no connective tissue to work with.
On top of that my blood vessel walls were so weak that every time he tried to move tissue out of the way to see if he could put the implant in, the blood vessels would rupture.
I was told the bleeding was very hard to control. The doctor faced a decision he had never had to face in his 20 years of practicing plastic surgery.
He cancelled the surgery.
He told me later how shocked he was at the situation he was faced with. But knew deep down inside my body could never handle those implants. He followed his gut.
He name is Dr, Rose. I would recommend him to anyone. He puts the patient first.
Meanwhile, I was in pure shock. "How could this happen? Is this some kind of crazy joke? I'm so confused."
In fact everyone in that clinic was shocked. My surgery was a first for all of them. And apparently my body was one big medical mystery to them. They had no idea how I was still able to function with how delicate my body is internally.
One Nurse came over to my bedside as I was still trying to process all of this new information and said, "I'm so sorry about all of this. This must be just aweful for you."
I smiled and nodded and thanked her for her concern.
She then stated, "Well, I'm guessing you don't have any children then, do you?"
"Actually yes, I have four children. Why?"
"Oh my gosh!" You should be dead by now!!! With the connective tissue disorder that you have you should've bled out with the first child you had. WOW! Someone's watching out for you, girl!"
Now I know she meant this in the kindest way possible, but, she scared the crap out of me.
This was too much to process all at once. I needed to sleep. Boobs or no boobs, a good check out of life for a few hours would do me some good.
And that is how Surgery #1 went. But the challenges I had to face were far from over....
Emotional Scarring
I felt so ugly.
I had not only had surgery and felt crappy, but, I had just had a Failed boob job.
My failed boob job means=I get to heal just like someone who had an actual boob job and I have all the scars of an actual boob job, BUT, I DO NOT have the implants.
Now, I am sooooooo grateful for my the way my "failed boob job" went. Because as far as failed boob jobs go, mine went pretty smoothly. It failed and I moved on. I've heard of other failed boob jobs who aren't so lucky. So I'll take what God blesses me with. It's just the emotional scarring that is hard to deal with.
I've always had a poor self image of myself. I wish I didn't. Even when I had a great body and no kids and ran 5 miles a day I still thought I could look better. Wow. If only I could rewind time:)
I thought this surgery would "fix" me.
Naked and me don't mix. I am sooooo self conscious. I HATE my husband seeing me naked. I thought this surgery would "fix" the way I feel about myself.
Instead, I just added more scars to my body. I cried for the first week straight.
Now this isn't going to be some cheesy inspirational "I found myself" story. Because I battle my self image everytime I look in the mirror. The first thought that comes to my mind is not positive. BUT.......I turn it into one.
The scars on my body are permanant. Slowly those scars on my body are getting lighter. I wake up each day and look at myself in the mirror and sadly, subconciously think those negative thoughts but always try to change then into a positive. As I have done this, I have noticed my perspective truly is changing.
I'm actually starting to believe I don't need fixing anymore.
(PART 1 Of 2) Part 2 "Operation Day" Prolapse
