“What should we have for my last meal,” are the words I spoke to my parents who occasionally (emphasis here) appreciate my dramatic nature. Am I going into surgery or being executed? Although I realize an execution is a tad more permanent, I feel as though these final hours before they “chop off my boobs,” as I like to call it, are like my boobs’ version of going into the chamber for a double homicide. No suicide watch is necessary, but you know what I mean. So, everything is in reference to my surgery and its impending arrival—my last meal, my last jog (wont be doing that for 4-6 weeks), my last outfit (ya a girl’s gotta think about these things)…dead boobs bouncing.
I went to New York to check on my bite-size apartment last week (I am getting my treatment done in Ohio where my family is but I was living in Manhattan) and one of my friends gave my boobs a special tug and said goodbye to them. Weird? No, I liked it. If you have to go through this as well, say goodbye. Mourn your loss. And then focus on your new breasts. Ya, the cancer free ones. The ones that don’t want to KILL you! Those are the ones we want. Get out of that dark place because honestly your boobs were on their way south anyways and luckily enough we can just get nice new ones! Any size you want for the low, low price of…No wait! Insurance will cover it! Yet another score!
For me, the days before my bilateral mastectomy are filled with concerns over the potential complications of the actual surgery. I am a worrier—we will get to that later. The Internet is not my friend in these final hours and may not be yours. Assess and deal accordingly. Any potential risk is a problem for me because I obsess over it. For you, it may be different. You may not have slept the last few weeks and are eagerly anticipating that special cocktail the anesthesiologist has whipped up just for you. Get your REM on, girl! So my advice during these final hours is to do whatever you need to do to get through it. Whatever keeps your mind off it—you have thought about it enough—do it. Use your “C” card as I like to call it. Be as selfish as you want. Spend all day at Dairy Queen (can I join?), go to Bloomingdales, watch an 80’s movie marathon, have a going away party for your boobs, START A BLOG perhaps. Do whatever you need! If that means calling your surgeon 30 times in one day then do it. No I did not. Did I want to? Absolutely.
You most likely will need to see your team of doctors the day before your surgery but other than that you have time to kill. After I head over to my plastic surgeon where he will draw on my chest with a sharpie, I plan on getting a pedicure and baking pumpkin muffins and perhaps some kale chips. Kale is your friend. Remember this. Ya these plans are girly I know, but I also watch football, I am at least aware of who is in the World Series, and I can bro-down with the best of them. But I am excited for a majority of my day and am focusing on the good parts. Tonight may get a little dark but that is where the movie marathon comes in and several family members are flying in to be with me as well, which will keep me both happy and distracted. Here is to my final hours pre-op!