Under Construction

Reconstruction of my breasts will be done in two phases. First – the insertion and ‘infill’ of the tissue expanders. Second – another operation to have permanent implants put in place.

The ‘expansion’ process is quite extraordinary. The ‘spaceships’ as we’ve dubbed them, due to their UFO-like appearance are ‘pumped-up’ once a week until the desired amount of saline has been injected. The expanders are the size of a saucer (for your tea cup), made of thick silicone which is moulded into a kind of envelope/bag, with a special chamber the size of say a 20-50 cent piece. It has a special magnetic response system which allows the surgeon to find its position, and start injecting the saline.

My Mum came to the first infill. It was like another mini-surgery by the time my chest was bathed in betadine, covered appropriately and Dr D had worked out ‘X marks the spot’.

A bag of saline hung from a drip pole connected to a needle and he started injecting. After checking whether I felt okay he said “Now we’re going for the Dolly Parton look aren’t we?” “No way!” I exclaimed, as Mum chuckled in the background.

I felt the insertion of the needle in one breast but not the other. From here it got even more strange. Although he was injecting the fluid, it wasn’t like when you have a needle for say tetanus or pain relief. Makes sense really, the fluid was going into the bag in my body – not directly into my body. What I felt was my breathing becoming more shallow, while the skin on my chest, underarms and back tightened to a point where it seemed entirely possible it may split.

That of course didn’t happen.

Mum was truly amazed at seeing the shape of my body change before her eyes. For me, the focus was on breathing, while trying to keep as still as possible.

With two (or maybe four) helping hands I was up and adjusting to yet another unusual feeling. My top half felt compressed – like in a vice. And heavy – like there were a couple of besser blocks sitting on my chest.

These sensations persisted, but the following morning I was happy to be marking ‘two weeks’ since the big operation. (You thought I was smiling and signing peace didn’t you?)