Tag Archives: boobs

‘Twas a Week since my Surg’ry

‘Twas a week since my surg’ry
To take out the mass
I still can’t believe
It all happened so fast

We started out chatting
And blogging ’bout boobs
Yet somehow this week
We’re onto chest tubes

We’ve learned about mole rats
The kind with no fur
And we’ve all guessed which boobs
Go with him or with her

We’ve met lots of doctors
Who all aim to please
Some say just a lift
Some say double Ds

If you go with an implant
Then, you’ll need to choose
‘Tween saline and silicone
With both you can’t lose

But you’re not done yet
Now you must decide
If it’s under or over
the muscle inside

The scars, anesthesia,
The risks and the price
It all made my head spin
This roll of the dice

And we found a lump
in my breast on the way
But learned it was nothing

Then later an x-ray
Revealed a round mass
Attached to my lung
And we struck an impasse

So a CAT scan, a spec’list,
A loud MRI
Soon gave us to know
that a surg’ry was nigh

So I dealt with my fears
And I packed up my stuff
And I went to the hospital
‘Cause I’d had enough!

Through IVs and catheters
Chills and Code Red
I came out of it all
I’m now home in my bed

My right side’s still achy
It hurts when I cough
So I’ll rest, write & e-shop
Hey, look! That’s half-off!

My friends were amazing
My family divine
But the best thing of all
was to hear “It’s benign.”


Laugh and the world laughs with you (even when some might deem it inappropriate)

I have a lot of goofball friends … and they’re really helping me get through the waiting and ‘bang my head against the wallness’ of everything. Here I share with you some of the nuttier emails, texts, Facebook messages, blog comments, etc. that I’ve received during the last week:
  • That morning is really going to suck. I feel for you. Definitely sleep in your clothes and a pony tail and have gum ready in the morning.
  • Go Xanax!!!!! All spazzing justified!
  • Where is the surgery? How long is the surgery? Do you have to stay in the hospital long? Does your mother play the tuba?
  • Well, that stinks. How about lunch tomorrow to take your mind off things? Or a movie? Or a roll of cookie dough w/2 spoons?
  • I prayed for you last night.  After I reminded The Big Guy who I was (I had to give him my SSN and my DOB), we had some good dialogue.
  • It seems like most of the time when boobs and health are joined together in a sentence, the loss of boobs are the outcome.   Some people out there have dogs that detect illness. You have super boobs to aide in the detection of potential illness.
  • If you want to scream or sing, be happy or sad or just shoot the shit, all you have to do is call!
  • Your boobs totally saved your life. They deserve a spa day.
  • Obviously, these boobs are a blessing so after you get past this scare, you will have to get them for sure. May this pass quickly and benignly into your blog posting history.
  • Well, that sounds kind of scary. Do you recall ever inhaling a jawbreaker and getting it stuck in your pleura? Or a ping pong ball? Sorry, that’s absurd. Why would anyone inhale a ping pong ball?
  • Shit. I’m thinking about you. And text me if you really want Valium. I know people.
And, of course, I’ve had scores of more serious messages offering everything from prayers and childcare to excessively cheesy, meatless lasagna (made to order!) and long distance cookies. It all counts.  It all helps. And it all will not soon be forgotten.


The Ghosts of ODNT Past

As promised, I’ve been thinking a lot about everything. And reviewing my thoughts from the last (almost) three months.  I sat in a coffee shop for hours recently … sifting through every single one of my blog entries to date … searching for clues of where my real feelings lie.  And I don’t even drink coffee!  Chamomile tea and a banana managed to sustain my right to loiter at the bar on my laptop all that time.

Anyway, over the course of my walk through ODNTs past, I came up with the following little jewels …

  • August 22,2011I sort of feel like I want to reclaim some of who and what I was before becoming a mother. Physically, I was a woman with a flat stomach and boobs in the right place.
  • August 26, 2011I am unhappy with my post-breastfeeding body and I am merely looking to restore it to its original form. I am not, repeat NOT, looking to Pamela Anderson-ize myself.
  • August 31,2011They’ve never been huge. But, at one time, they were at least what I would have called “inflated” … as well as situated correctly on my chest.  (And from later in the same entry)  So I started thinking about it. And checking myself out in front of the mirror, lifting things up to where they used to be. To where they’re supposed to be.
  • September 14, 2011She (Doctor 1) said that, particularly on a smaller person like myself, oversized breasts will actually create a look of added weight overall on a woman’s frame.
  • September 22, 2011She (the mammogram technician) said that, while there are arguments stating that under-the-muscle placement does decrease the odds of an implant causing a visual obstruction in a mammogram, there are still no guarantees that a problem couldn’t form behind that implant and thereby be invisible to the technicians. Cancer cells, tumors and other problems can occur anywhere in the breast tissue so no placement is one hundred percent foolproof.
  • October 8, 2011He (Doctor 5) said that the biggest mistake women make is going too big or too wide. He added that women should look to correct and improve the shape of their breasts and not just be worried about their volume. He actually said smaller breasts are “more elegant,” which I’m pretty sure makes me Audrey Hepburn.
  • October 30, 2011Okay. I’m definitely getting a lift. That’s the one thing every doctor … and even my mom … agreed on.

I feel like I’m finally starting to get a little clarity here.  And I’m finally starting to see the answer through the murky fog and haze.  Maybe.

Does anyone else see it, too?


My multiple personalities are fighting again

Okay, let’s get back to our ODNT roots here.  We’ve been through five preliminary consultations, two follow-up appointments and one scary emergency mammogram and ultrasound together.  We’ve talked about botched boobs, troublemaking boobs, giNORmous boobs, mystery boobs, saggy boobs, perky boobs, slapping boobs, foreign boobs, holiday boobs, famous boobs, dancing boobs, old boobs, stabbed boobs, insured boobs and uniboobs.

But we’re not done yet.

We still have a big decision to make, don’t we?  I will be calling for a vote down to one doctor in the next few days.  (Don’t vote on this post though please.  The poll will be up soon.)

Anyway, if you think I’ve already made my decision, think again.  One minute I’m looking in the mirror, checking myself out and thinking …

“Okay.  I’m definitely getting a  lift. That’s the one thing every doctor … and even my mom … agreed on.    And I should probably get a little inflation.  Just a little.  I don’t want to be too big.   After all this research and soul searching, I really should do something for myself. Everyone knows that moms don’t stop and do things for themselves enough, right? Come on, Michele. Don’t be such a wuss. 

And then the next minute, I’m all …

“I can’t do this. This is crazy. There are risks. And there are starving people in Africa … and tuition to pay …. and house notes and electric bills and other debts. We’re not rich people.  How can I spend this kind of cash on my boobs?!!?

Yes, yes, I know. I’ve exposed my inner Sybil.  The pendulum of the human psyche.  The fight (sometimes to the death) between the right brain and the left brain.  Sybil presents herself from time to time in all of us when making big decisions. Most people call it vacillating, wavering, overanalyzing.  I just call it a Sybil moment. (If you aren’t familiar with this classic movie, look it up.  Sally Field.  Good stuff.  Long before her current stint on Brothers & Sisters.)

My point? I’m still not sure what to do.  And yes … while ultimately it is my decision to make and I will have the final say … my family, my friends and YOU will also be playing a very important advisory role for me.  You’ve basically come on every one of these appointments with me.  You’ve heard everything these doctors have had to say.  We’ve learned about full lifts, median lifts and mini-lifts together.  And the incisions and scarring associated with all of them. We’ve learned about the pros and cons of saline versus silicone.  And about texturized implant shells.  And we’ve learned about ccs – and how they can SO make a difference. We learned about fat injections as a new augmentation alternative. We’ve learned about an implant’s effect on mammography. And so on … and so on …. and so on …

So, since we’re all experts now, I’m asking that you please take a minute to look back over the appointments.  At a minimum, please review the Doctor 4 and Doctor 5 reports, first  and second round if I may be so bold as to ask.  Both of these doctors are excellent and I would be in good hands either way.

But … which doctor is the best fit for me?

Or … should I leave well enough alone and scrap the whole damned thing?

This is the moment of truth.  Please read over whatever you need to help me decide … and then be on the look out for the next round of voting in a few days. I LOVE you people for riding shotgun with me throughout everything. 🙂


Round 2 – A Second Visit to Boob Doctor 4 (with my husband AND my mom)

Alright, let’s address the title of this entry right off the bat.

My husband is coming to the second round visits for two reasons: (1) He cares about my welfare. (Yes, I am making an assumption here but I think on most days it’s actually true) and (2) He is the co-signer on all of my financial accounts. This statement makes it sound like we have sizeable accounts in Switzerland or the Grand Caymans.  We do not.  We do, however, have one at the local branch around the corner.  There – I am important.  They always have ice cold water available for me at no charge that I may drink in as many two-ounce dunce cap-shaped cups as I desire.  And I’m pretty sure if I asked that they would give me a Saf-T-pop.  For free.

My mom came to this visit (she couldn’t make it to Doctor 5’s second visit) because she is curious about everything and wants to be sure I’m making a good decision here.  She cares.  A lot.  And if that makes me a dork then it’s really just one more thing to add to the list.  Which grows.  Every day.  Especially now since I’m a … blogger.

Anyway, you know the drill. Woke up. Kids off to school.  Got myself ready to go and waited for my ‘committee’ to arrive so I could leave for the appointment.  My husband came back home first, then my brother came over (no, he wasn’t part of the original plan) and then my mom.  No one was in a hurry to get there and get this thing done except me.  My brother and my husband actually started to talk football.  I resisted the urge to kill them both and managed to send my brother on his way and herd my spouse and mother into the car with me. And off we went.

This morning, we paid a second visit to Doctor 4. He’s the doctor that suggested a mini-lift and saline implants (270 to 330cc).  The implants he uses (Allergan) are texturized and come with an impressive 10-year insurance policy.  My friend, Vanessa, came with me last time.  Remember?

We weren’t in the waiting room long before my name was called.  I immediately introduced my husband and my mom and explained their presence and was met with smiles and complete understanding.  (Exhale.)  The three of us were escorted to an examination room by the doctor’s assistant.  She was just as helpful and friendly as she was last time and put me and my entourage immediately at ease.

We chatted with her only a few minutes before the doctor came in.  (I still like him so much.)  He began explaining everything we talked about at my first appointment to my husband and mother to get them up to speed.  I could see that they both felt comfortable with him.

Having just been to Doctor 5 again, the comparison was fresh in my mind.  One of my first questions was about the texturized shells used with the saline implants. If you remember, Doctor 4 swears by them as they are said to adapt better within the chest wall and prevent scar tissue from forming around them. Doctor 5 said he feels they don’t always drop into place as well as the smooth shells following surgery.  And I shared Doctor 5’s comment at this appointment.

Doctor 4 said he hasn’t had any issues with the texturized implants and said they always drop perfectly into place.  He stood by their ability to maintain a pocket for themselves where they are inserted rather than becoming embedded in scar tissue.  He added that prevention of scar tissue means prevention of breast hardening which can occur over the years with the smooth outer shells.  Never wanting to be a guinea pig for science or progress, I asked how long these texturized shells have been available, expecting to hear somewhere in the neighborhood of five years. “Twenty-five years” was the answer.

So I’m guessing they’re tried and true then.

We talked a lot about his specific recommendations for me and asked a few questions here and there.   My husband asked his same ‘What about any complications that arise during this elective surgery? Are they covered by insurance?” question. Similar to our other second round doctor, Doctor 4 said that the number one complication risk is infection but it is extremely rare. He said he personally guarantees all of his work as well as the products he uses during surgery.  He said an infection can be treated, with the implant even removed if necessary, immediately and in the office.  His assurance and surgical history served to satisfy all of us, especially when added to the fact that the implants carried an additional insurance policy of their own.

My mom had some questions about his recommendations.  (1) Would the mini-lift do the trick for me? (My mom was the one who first made the lift diagnosis for me years ago. What? I said we were close.)  (2) What effect would the implants have on my mammograms?  And the doctor answered them with her the same way he did with me.  (1) Yes, because of where I measured, a mini-lift should achieve the result I need without subjecting me to all of the additional incisions and thus scarring involved with a full lift.  (2) With additional views taken during my mammograms, the technician should be able to achieve as full a view of my breast tissue as a patient without implants.

When everyone’s questions had been answered, I asked to see the ‘Great Big Book of Boobs’  again.  And there I sat with my husband, my mom and a complete stranger flipping through page after page of saggy-to-braggy breasts. I figured my spouse had suffered through two boob appointments so I’d at least score him the book. But I hadn’t really considered the fact that he’d be looking through it with his mother-in-law.  Looking back, it seemed more like a Farrelly Brothers movie than real life.  Although I think I did hear him comment about someone’s “cans” while flipping through the book at some point. So maybe it wasn’t a total loss …

And now I really need some time to digest.  And mull.  And ponder. And contemplate, meditate, formulate, deliberate.

Great. Now I’m thinking of that stupid INXS song.


How about another game? Let’s play Boobs Around the World!

Across the globe, breast cancer is the most common form of cancer affecting women today.  According to the Susan G. Komen for the Cure Foundation, “it is estimated that more than 1.6 million new cases of breast cancer occurred among women worldwide in 2010.”

Generally speaking, the more developed countries tend to have higher rates of incidence, which has been attributed to lifestyle and reproductive factors as well as lower screening rates and incomplete reporting in the developing countries. In any event, I think it’s time we all became a little more multi-lingual today and learned to talk about boobs wherever we find ourselves.  You never know when that skill may come in handy. So, without further ado, I bring you our second interactive ODNT game …

Boobs Around the World

… and welcome you to play along.   The rules here are very loose so have some fun with it, amigos!

  1. Play as often as you like but please don’t take two consecutive turns.
  2. Please include the word and its language in your comment.
  3. And, if you’re feeling especially creative, try using it in a sentence.  Then, tell us what it means.

I’ll go first again to show you how it’s done.


Observations (firsthand and overheard) during a full school fair weekend

(1) You should strip completely before entering your home at night. Shaking out your hair does not rid you of the deeply-implanted results of multiple confetti-eggings. I think I’ll be finding white bits of paper around the house for months. I’m hoping the cat will learn to eat them.

(2) You should never … ever … eat three forms of fried foods in the same day. You will think it’s a great idea at the time. You will wonder why you hadn’t thought of it sooner and will try to encourage others to join you in this whole new decadent, artery-clogging world. You will laugh at the future. But don’t do it. I can’t explain what it does to your body … all through the night … and you really don’t want me to try.

(3) Leave your checkbooks at home! You should still plan to bring lots of cash for all of the crap your kids simply must buy/eat/take a chance on. But having your checkbook makes entirely too much money available to you when your brain and good judgment are clouded by excessive quantities of grease and sugar.

(4) Wait until your child is on his or her own to hand them their spending money. I like to keep the amounts small to ensure that they’ll actually check in with me (often!) throughout the weekend for more. Not everyone operates this way. And you don’t want to be caught handing your kid $5 when their buddy is being handed $50. It creates a bit of an ugly scene … and your child will not wind up displaying his or her best side.

(5) Silly string should never be sprayed into a little girl’s hair. My husband and I took shifts working on its removal process when we got home. And the bits didn’t break up small enough to go down the tub drain so then IT needed to be cleaned. And it was approaching midnight.

(6) Do not think your child really wants you to join her and her friends in the Rock Band booth. She doesn’t. You’re “embarrassing” her. Decide you don’t care and do it anyway. Sing as loud as you can. Own the experience. How many of these do you really get these days, right? Oh, and realize now that you’re most likely going to be singing “Don’t Stop Believin.” (Does that song have a G at the end or not? I’m not sure and I refuse to google something so ridiculous.)

(7) You can’t buy too much glitter for your child’s costume for the fair performance. Every kid wants a ton and you will find yourself putting it on ALL of their faces … and then your own. And then later your daughter will decide her dad needs some, too. Which he will agree to, thinking everyone will understand that it’s because of his daughter’s role in the play. But they won’t and he will just feel foolish and be trapped under a layer of glitter the whole day. After he’s sufficiently frustrated with the fact that it’s all anyone is talking to him about, call him ‘Pretty.’ Get others to do it, too.

(8) If you want to take on the hamster ball, do it early in the fair when you still meet the weight requirements. You will be fatter by the end of the weekend and thus potentially ineligible.

(9) Limit your kid to one goldfish win or you will find yourself in our predicament of last year … with SIXTEEN! We only had two bowls at home so we split them up evenly and decided to let nature take its course. After fifteen fish funerals in five days, we admitted that it was probably not the best idea for the fish or my kids. Oh, and yes, ONE made it almost a year. He died as soon as we put a second fish (that we received as a party favor!) in the bowl with him. And then the party favor fish died, too. We decided it was some kind of fish murder/suicide pact and moved on with our lives.

(10) If you’re writing a blog about your boobs … and boobs in general, expect that they will be a pretty consistent topic (or should I say topics?) of many of the conversations that you have at your kids’ fair. Which, of course, makes for an interesting weekend.

Hope your weekend was as fun-filled, fattening and completely exhausting as mine. Now … let the detoxification begin.


Let the voting begin! And then there were two …

Okay … I want you to think very carefully  … as your input will help me make my decision. Please take a moment to look back on the five consultation reports and get a feel for the doctors again.  Honestly, I was the one there … and it was my boobs being handled over and over and over again … and I STILL needed to go back and review everything just to write the cheat sheet yesterday.

Pretend like it’s YOUR boobs.  I need you to help me pick two doctors to advance to round two.   My husband will be joining me for these two appointments.  Hell, my mom might even be coming along.

What would you do? Remember … my girls are counting on you.



Shall we play a game?

Okay, who’s thinking about War Games now? I can’t hear those words without hearing a monotone, oversynthesized robotic computer voice, too. Admit it. If you’re a child of the 80s, that’s where your brain went when you read this title. Matthew Broderick, the WOPR, “The only winning move is not to play” … you know what I mean.

Anyway, I’m home with my boy today who is as sick as a dog. At the moment, we’re attempting a little nap, which is likely only to result in 15 minutes of fitful rest. The kid’s never been much of a sleeper. And the cat, who I may bake into a pie very soon, is hellbent on keeping him awake right now. For those who don’t know, Milo is a very loud and needy cat.

So, with only 15 minutes or so of potential free (writing) time today, I thought it would be fun to play a goofy little game inspired by an idea from my friend, Chris.

We’ve all heard them. From hooters to headlights, there are a million names for boobs. And, in this very special month dedicated to breast health, let’s see if we can come up with a boob word for every letter of the alphabet. Using the comment boxes below, the first person would list an A-word. Then, the next person would list a B-word. And so on. Follow?

And here are the rules:

  1. You may only submit one answer per comment.
  2. You may play more than once but the same person can’t answer for two letters in a row.
  3. Funny is fabulous. Racy is fine. But so vulgar that I will start crying and run screaming to hide under my covers ’til morning is not. Be nice!

And I’ll start us off with the first boob word. A is for … (see comments below)



Introducing the family freak

Today was consultation appointment number five. FIVE!!!

A moment of silence please for my overhandled boobs.

Some things about the experience were the same and others were different. And, as always, I have a lot to digest … and then regurgitate to you. (Yeah, that sounded way better in my head.)

So until I’m ready … and until my appointment buddy, Melissa, signs off on everything … I will leave you with this picture.

“Introducing Milo, the amazing … spineless … contortionist cat.”


I don’t even want to know what he was doing when I walked in on him.