I am walking around with tissue expanders. They are, by far, the most unpleasant aspect of this entire process.
I never imagined that something this hard could be inside someone's body. The thing about the hard brown coconuts? Yeah, that's about right. I feel so sorry for my little boy sometimes, when he accidentally backs his head up into my chest. I can't feel it on a cutaneous level, but I feel the force transmitted through the chest wall, and I'm amazed that he hasn't complained that I hurt his head.
I chose to have the expanders. I could have immediately gotten implants, but they would have had to be small. I didn't have the skin or muscle stock required to become my ideal size. I knew that they would be uncomfortable, but I really never imagined that they would be so intrusive.
First of all, they feel weird. They have valves to enable the expansion. Every week or so, I would go to the plastic surgeon's office, and they would insert a needle into the valve in order to push saline into the apparatus. The feeling could really only be described as tight the first day, deeply sore the second and third. Like you're a nursing mother, and it's been fifteen hours since you last fed your baby.
Next, they seem to have unforgiving edges. I imagine the rigid seams of a ziplock freezer bag. They're pretty sharp! That is what I feel at the lateral border of the pectoralis major muscles, the left being more severe than the right. This is what prohibits me from being to lie on either side, for fear they will just lacerate me and pop right out.
These suckers are just making space for my implants, which will be placed next month. Oh, I'm ready for that.
During surgery, a support tissue matrix called AlloDerm was used to reinforce and support the expanders. The thought of a cadaveric mesh in anyone's body gives me pause. I mean, you have to think about the person that "donated" it, and you have to silently thank them. (I picture the scene in The Silence of the Lambs, where the dude is making the dress out of skin. Too vivid? Sorry.)
I have mentioned the dangers of sneezing post mastectomy. I can tell you that it is entirely possible to rupture stitches that either hold AlloDerm or expansion hardware in place. I don't know exactly what I busted, but I felt and heard a flip and a pop.
When these things come out, I wonder if Dr. Lickstein will let me keep them? I would like to take them skeet shooting or give them another entirely appropriate sendoff. Oh well, Hakuna Matata!
I never imagined that something this hard could be inside someone's body. The thing about the hard brown coconuts? Yeah, that's about right. I feel so sorry for my little boy sometimes, when he accidentally backs his head up into my chest. I can't feel it on a cutaneous level, but I feel the force transmitted through the chest wall, and I'm amazed that he hasn't complained that I hurt his head.
I chose to have the expanders. I could have immediately gotten implants, but they would have had to be small. I didn't have the skin or muscle stock required to become my ideal size. I knew that they would be uncomfortable, but I really never imagined that they would be so intrusive.
First of all, they feel weird. They have valves to enable the expansion. Every week or so, I would go to the plastic surgeon's office, and they would insert a needle into the valve in order to push saline into the apparatus. The feeling could really only be described as tight the first day, deeply sore the second and third. Like you're a nursing mother, and it's been fifteen hours since you last fed your baby.
Next, they seem to have unforgiving edges. I imagine the rigid seams of a ziplock freezer bag. They're pretty sharp! That is what I feel at the lateral border of the pectoralis major muscles, the left being more severe than the right. This is what prohibits me from being to lie on either side, for fear they will just lacerate me and pop right out.
These suckers are just making space for my implants, which will be placed next month. Oh, I'm ready for that.
During surgery, a support tissue matrix called AlloDerm was used to reinforce and support the expanders. The thought of a cadaveric mesh in anyone's body gives me pause. I mean, you have to think about the person that "donated" it, and you have to silently thank them. (I picture the scene in The Silence of the Lambs, where the dude is making the dress out of skin. Too vivid? Sorry.)
I have mentioned the dangers of sneezing post mastectomy. I can tell you that it is entirely possible to rupture stitches that either hold AlloDerm or expansion hardware in place. I don't know exactly what I busted, but I felt and heard a flip and a pop.
When these things come out, I wonder if Dr. Lickstein will let me keep them? I would like to take them skeet shooting or give them another entirely appropriate sendoff. Oh well, Hakuna Matata!
Comments
Post a Comment