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More of The First Two Weeks

This is another BoobCast Flashback episode originally dated Oct. 8, 2009. There are a few more drafts that I will continue to flesh out and post over the next week or so. Then I will really start more on the medical aspects of plastic and reconstructive surgery.

As the days passed, I saw that there were places where the bruising was getting lighter. There were other places that the skin just got darker and turned black. In the black areas, the skin felt a bit like rubber. It was slick but firm, a bit like what a dolphin’s skin feels like. It’s rather like thick, slick rubber if you’ve never petted a dolphin. Normally my skin has a slight grainy texture to it. These areas didn’t.

It was also about two weeks in that I noticed that my chest felt heavy. Yeah, I know. It seems obvious that my chest would feel heavier with two big water balloons shoved under my skin. My chest was insensate though. It wasn’t weight. It was pressure. For those of you who have read previous installments, you know what the cause of the pressure was.

For those who are new, there was a build up of 300ccs of serous fluid in each pocket. At one checkup one of the HiQ’s nurses even pointed out a place about two inches long on the outside of my left breast where it looked like there was a big bubble.

There was also another point where I took off the post surgical bra because I was having difficulty breathing and it felt better without the bra. So my husband called the after-hours line. When we explained to the HiQ what was going on, the doc actually had the nerve to suggest to Ken that I needed a Valium rather than try to figure out what was REALLY happening.

This person had all the bedside manner of flesh eating bacteria and most assuredly suffered from MDiety Syndrome.

HiQ stands for Hack in Question since I can’t legally reveal the doctor’s name.

Out The Door

07 Jan

I was drugged to the gills after I woke up and I don’t remember a whole lot. I remember feeling like the nurses were rushing me. Since the surgery took place at an outpatient center everyone seemed to be in a hurry to get home. I remember being in some pain and having difficulty moving. I remember having vitals taken once and then being bundled up into the stuff I bought to wear back to the hotel. Button-up-the-front PJs and a big, fluffy robe and slippers.

When I was semi-conscious they sent Ken for the car. I felt like they practically shoved me out the door when he brought it around to the side door. I was wheeled from the recovery bay to the door and I felt like I was basically shoved into the vehicle. Getting in was an adventure in pain. And on top of that, it was raining and cold.

Once I had been shoved into the car, I heard the nurse lock the door behind me before Ken even got the car door shut.

I’m pretty sure I fell asleep again on the way to the hotel even though part of the trip was rather jarring. I remember being grateful that we didn’t have to drive all the way to Melbourne.

We got to the hotel and I remember that it took me quite a while to get from the car to the door of the room. I also remember feeling embarrassed that here I was in PJ’s, a robe and slippers in the parking lot outside. The vague image of a bag lady with a shopping cart slipped briefly through my mind as I inched my way towards the side door of the hotel. I still thank the powers of coincidence that I didn’t have to go in through the front door.

I don’t remember much after getting into the hotel room. I know Ken set up pillows for me so that I wouldn’t be lying down. I’m pretty sure I slept for a long time because when I woke up there was pizza in the room. The thought of solid food made me want to hurl so Ken made me soup.

While the soup was cooking I took a few laps around the hotel room because I was told repeatedly not to just lounge around or it would be worse later. So I walked. I had soup and then I went back to sleep. I don’t remember anything else until the next morning. And that, I will talk about tomorrow.

Right now I am cleaning out drafts I have worked on over the last year or so. I want to finish them up before I move on.

This was from August 17th of ’09.

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Posted by Maria_Myrback on January 7, 2010 in anchor breast lift, boob job, breast, breast implants, breast lift, complications, cosmetic surgery, implants, Pain, plastic surgeon, plastic surgery, Plastic Surgery Disaster, Surgery, Surgical complications, Uncategorized

How To Tell?

12 Nov

This post is going to be even more personal that I usually am about my experiences. Those who have issues with bisexuality or sex outside of marriage should skip this post and come back tomorrow for more about dehisience.

First, for anyone that hasn’t read my Twitter or Facebook profile or doesn’t know me personally, I’m bisexual. That means that I am attracted to both men and women. Not ALL men and not ALL women. Just, well, just the ones I think are cute.

When I realize six years ago that I’m attracted to both genders, hubby and I sat down and we had a series of discussions. Several of those discussions covered dating. Thanks to a book called “The Bisexual’s Guide To The Universe” we laid down rules that we were both comfortable with so that I could actually experience what it would be like to be with another woman.

That was four years ago.

I’ve been on a few dates and even had a short term girlfriend. Nothing ever happened though.

Now I’ve met someone and I like her. If things keep progressing I can see where this might go.

But there’s a problem.

I have NO idea how to tell her about what happened. How do you tell someone that you’re…incomplete? I’m sure divorced and single cancer survivors have had to go through this. And I understand that it’s not just something you blurt out.

Nothing puts a damper on a fun evening like “Oh by the way my boobs rotted off, I had to get them reconstructed and in case I haven’t freaked you out enough yet, I have no nipples.”.

Yeah. THAT’S a real show stopper.

I don’t want to just give her my blog URL either. That’s a WHOLE lot of trauma right there as my regular readers know. And I REALLY like this woman. I don’t want to scare her away.

I’m thinking that if or when this turns romantic, that’s when I’ll tell her. But I have to tell her soon enough that it doesn’t seem like I’m keeping secrets but not so soon that I scare her off. She’s had to deal with enough medical crap herself lately as it is.

As for the actual telling part, I’ve learned that starting with the phrase “We need to talk.” or “There’s something I have to tell you”. usually sets someone on edge. I need to find an opener that will set her at ease. Maybe “There’s something I want to trust you with”. Perhaps “Can I confide in you?”.

I guess this is just something I’m going to have to work on. I’ve got about a week before I see her next, so I have a bit of time. Trust me, you all will probably hear about this again.

After all you already know that Ken enjoys the Twins and he doesn’t seem to care that I don’t have nipples yet. But that’s because my first set was so sensitive that he couldn’t really do anything with them anyway. This is definitely a different twist to this tale though.

The ER – Pt. 2

11 Nov

Let’s hope I can finish this part of the story tonight. I genuinely feel like I’m going to throw up. It’s amazing how visceral my reactions still are even after all this time.

By this point I was absolutely furious but I felt totally helpless to do anything. The news that I couldn’t be stitched back up was devastating. Couple that with the results of the culture and I was even more of a basket case than before. The culture discovered five different types of bacteria: three of which the tech never even heard of. So they put up a bag of the most badass antibiotics they had.

Unfortunately about 1/2 way through the bag I started getting EXTREMELY itchy. My throat started swelling a few minutes later and it became a bit difficult to breathe. Well Ken called the nurse and within a minute or so he had a syringe of something in the IV. He SLAMMED the plunger in and within moments I felt like I was going to pass out.

I got tunnel vision and then the tunnel started narrowing. My body felt very heavy and I felt like I was being pushed down. I told the nurse that I thought I was going to pass out. His reply was “Isn’t it a good thing you’re in the hospital then?”.

So…yeah. I was allergic to the first antibiotic. So they put up something else really badass and I was off again. This one made me a little itchy too so the nurse injected a little syringe of something else. This time much more slowly. In a matter of moments I was doing just fine and made it through the entire bag.

After a bag and a half of serious antibiotics, they also made an appointment for me with an infection specialist. Then one of the nurses packed my chest and they sent me home.

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Posted by Maria_Myrback on November 11, 2009 in anchor breast lift, Anxiety, boob job, breast health, breast lift, complications, cosmetic surgery, dehiscence, Depression, Hospital, mastopexy, plastic surgeon, plastic surgery, Plastic Surgery Disaster, situational depression, Surgery, Surgical complications, Uncategorized

The Calm

06 Nov

After the second surgery there was actually a brief time when I thought that everything might be alright after all.

I should have known better.

I don’t know HOW I should have known better, unless past experience told me that the HiQ had no real idea what he was doing and the man was/is a menace and a disgrace to the medical profession.

I had just hoped that the worst was over.

And for a little while everything WAS okay. I actually had a period of about 12 days when everything looked like it was going to work out. Sure I was going to need one more surgery but at least I didn’t have to deal with the necrosis. I just changed the gauze over the surgical tubing drains and changed dressings like I was told.

Little did I know what was ahead of me.

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Posted by Maria_Myrback on November 6, 2009 in anchor breast lift, boob job, breast, breast health, breast implants, breast lift, breast reconstruction, breast size, complications, cosmetic surgery, mastopexy, necrosis, plastic surgeon, plastic surgery, Plastic Surgery Disaster, Surgery, Surgical complications

Surgery #2

01 Nov

As my regular readers know I developed necrosis two weeks after the October 2nd breast augmentation and lift surgery in 2007. After several weeks of Hell I was scheduled for a second surgery on November 2. This surgery was for the purposes of removing the implants and the remaining necrotic tissue. We showed up in the afternoon at the surgical center – which we had to pay the fee for – I was prepped and before I knew it, part two of my nightmare had begun.

When I was able I looked at what had been done. It seemed, in retrospect, Frankenstinian. The line of vertical sutures looked like someone had whip stitched the skin together. I also found out that, on the left side, there had been a half inch spot left open.

I also found out that over 300 ccs of serous fluid had built up in each pocket. The implants were both intact. That explained the pressure and the bubble under my flesh. Fortunately this time the HiQ put in what passed for really crappy drains. He had inserted open-ended surgical tubing. The outer ends were covered in gauze to absorb the leaking serous fluid that my body produced. Compared to the closed-system drains I had after my reconstruction, these things were positively primitive.

I was also an A cup now down from a DD cup and before that a C cup. This wasn’t nesecarilly a bad thing. I finally had the ski slope breast shape I had been after from the beginning. By ski slope I mean the breasts that are heavy and rounded on the bottom and on the top the breast gently slopes down to be capped by a pert, rosy nipple.

I was just missing the nipple.

The HiQ assured me that after i had healed, we could do reconstruction. At this point I was already starting to have my doubts. But I’ll talk more about that later.

For those of you joining me from NaNoBloMo and reading my blog for the first time, please go read the first post for more information about what BoobCast is all about.

Zombie

31 Oct

While I was doing the wet to dry bandages before the debridment, I frequently felt like I was a zombie. No, I didn’t want to eat brains, though I DID want to severely damage the HiQ.

***WARNING! GRAPHIC CONTENT AHEAD***

No what I mean is that when I would peel off the wet to dry dressing and pull away bits of dead flesh, I couldn’t help but feel like I was, at least in part, an undead zombie. Here I was dropping bits of flesh. And that’s what zombies do…walk around, eat people and drop bits of their body.

Instead of eating people, I felt like this situation was eating me alive. And not just in the literal sense. I began losing myself to this situation. I WAS a bouncy, vibrant, spur-of-the-moment type of person before I became Zombie Maria.

It has only been in the last month or two that I’ve come back to myself. I’m not there yet. I still shamble a bit, though there are no brain cravings. And unfortunately I still haven’t gottten past the point of wishing the HiQ ill. I really couldn’t actually do anything myself. I’m not that kind of person. But you can damn betcha that I wouldn’t be feeling bad if he were to accidentally get his hands crushed.

Misty Watercolor Memories

29 Oct

The human memory is an odd creature. Or at least mine is. I have been trying to remember incidents from the first four or five weeks after the initial lift and implant insertion surgery. I’ll try to zero in on that time and then my mind will slip sideways as though the memories had a silicone shield. Everything just slides right off. Non-stick memories.

I’m guessing this happens because I tried so hard to repress and not think about what was happening WHILE it was happening. I just dealt with one second at a time, did what I had to do and cried about it afterward. I was on what amounts to auto pilot. Either that or I detached and focused on the anatomical details. Although that really started more after the second surgery.

I wonder how much of this is a coping mechanism. Avoidance used to be a major part of my modus operandi. From what I learned when I was (briefly) a psych major, avoidance isn’t considered a healthy way of coping. Though I’m not so sure I WAS avoiding. I was changing the wet to dry dressings twice daily and going to my regularly scheduled doctor appointments with the HiQ.

I have to wonder how clearly people remember incidents of severe trauma. Does our brain initiate a response that allows us to be protected from the harshness of those memories? Is it some sort of conscious mechanism in which we tell ourselves that “this gets filed back here and we’re not going to remember this any more”. Rather like sticking our fingers in our ears and yelling “LALALALALALA I CAN’T HEAR YOU LALALALALALA!!”

***WARNING – VIVID DESCRIPTION AHEAD***

And then…sometimes I get some vivid memories back. Like one of the times I was pulling off one of the wet to drys and a big chunk of flesh the size of a quarter came away with the necrotic tissue and I felt like Imhotep from “The Mummy”. Or a Zombie.

I actually spent a moment or two trying to put it back in the spot. You know…like when you’re a little kid and you break your favorite toy. You try to put it back together and it won’t go but you just can’t figure out why it won’t go back together.

Yeah, I think I was a little insane for a while.

The Reality of Malpractice Law Suits

28 Oct

In the third week after the first surgery I called two different malpractice lawyers. They both told me the same thing. In the state of Florida a plastic surgeon is only required to carry a minimum of $100,000 in malpractice insurance.

That amount would cover the investigative and legal fees and I would be left with very little. In all likelihood it would not be enough to pay for reconstructive surgery.

In the investigative part of the law suit they subpoena the records from the surgery. Once the records are subpoenaed, (or even before that) anyone can go in and change the records to indicate a more favorable position for the surgeon and the surgical team. So by the time the attorney gets them, there may be no evidence at all of malpractice.

It is also difficult to define what exactly constitutes malpractice. Who’s error was it? WAS there even an error?

Much later I spoke to a surgical nurse an another site who said that she thought, from the bruising I described, that something must have gone catastrophically wrong during surgery. But there wasn’t really a way to prove it.

So there you have it. Make sure you know what you’re getting into. Ask how much malpractice insurance your PS carries. You only get one body. Make sure it’s protected.

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Posted by Maria_Myrback on October 28, 2009 in anchor breast lift, boob job, breast health, breast implants, breast lift, complications, cosmetic surgery, Insurance, malpractice, Medical, Medical Insurance, negligence, plastic surgeon, plastic surgery, Plastic Surgery Disaster, Surgery, Surgical complications, Uncategorized

Packing Up

28 Oct

Even after the debridement the HiQ still had me packing the area with saline soaked wet-to-dry bandages. Every time I asked why this happened his reply was the standard “I don’t know”. When I asked him what was next, his standard reply was “We’ll just have to wait and see.”.

After the debridment I told him that “I don’t know” is no longer an acceptable answer. I let him know that I would accept “I don’t know but I’ll find out” and that I would expect an answer at my next appointment. When he DID finally give me an answer it amounted to “Sometimes these things just happen and we really don’t know why”.

Emotional meltdowns were a regular occurence. Ken still wasn’t allowed in with me. I wasn’t going to expose him to the horror I saw twice a day.

After the debridement there was just raw fatty tissue and flesh. Granular tissue started filling in some of the areas. granulation tissue the newly formed vascular tissue normally produced in healing of wounds of soft tissue, ultimately forming the cicatrix. A Cicatrix is a scar resulting from formation and contraction of fibrous tissue in a flesh wound So I was starting to heal.

Since the HiQ had removed all the necrotic tissue that he could, the next step was the other bad news. There was no way the implants were going to stay. They had to come out. So they scheduled me for the second surgery on November 2nd 2007. And lucky me, I got to pay for the cost to use the surgical center. Yes. You read that right.

In the next post I’ll talk about the shocking reality of law suits for malpractice.

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Boobcast

Category Archives: anchor breast lift

More of The First Two Weeks

Out The Door

How To Tell?

The ER – Pt. 2

The Calm

Surgery #2

Zombie

Misty Watercolor Memories

The Reality of Malpractice Law Suits

Packing Up

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