I want to tell you a story and I hope this helps you get your feet under you a bit better. Several years ago, back before I was a skeptic and before I had a decent sense of self worth, I had a boob job. I hated the way they looked after breastfeeding two kids and I thought that, as I approached the age of 40, it would make me feel better about myself.

I ended up developing necrosis due to unconfirmed surgical complications and I lost both of my nipples and areolae. I don’t know if there’s a worse experience than watching your own intimate body parts rot away but if there is, I wouldn’t wish it on anyone.

There’s much more to the story which you can read on http://boobcast.com if you are interested.

About a year after my chest healed, (I was severely deformed and required two reconstruction surgeries which i have long since had, to rousing success) I was finally in a mental state to start writing about what happened to me. I was bound and determined to write about it because if I DIDN’T write about it publicly, then, in my mind, the hack that did this to me would win.

That wouldn’t do.

There were SO many times when I had to stop in the middle of writing a post and go have a good, long cry. But I did it. I did it because I REFUSED to let my situation dictate my life. I refused to let what others told me change what I truly thought was the right thing to do.

Boobcast has made a real difference in women’s lives. I get regular emails telling me as much. I talk to women regularly who are scared and in need of reassurance and advice. I’m so very grateful I can do that.

When I was a little girl my father told me to “Stand and fight if you believe you’re right”. I learned determination from my mother who, after a motorcycle accident that left her in ICU for six months, taught herself to walk again when doctors said she never would.

Believe me when I tell you that I know it’s hard. I know it’s disheartening and some days you just want to give up and let the world go to Hell in its own little monogrammed handbasket. And some day you may decide you’ve had enough and that’s okay.

But please don’t let THEM make that decision for you.

I really hope that helps her. She’s doing good work in the skeptical and critical-thinking community and I would hate to see her give up because of all the hate mail and awful things people say about her in the blogosphere.

Unfortunately, this good deed of mine seems to have had some emotional backlash. I realized that even though Boobcast is doing good work, I am still in mourning for my loss. It has been four years as of yesterday since that first surgery and it still hurts emotionally. Not to the degree it used to, but it’s still a visceral pain. I feel nauseous remembering what I went through. I have tears in my eyes remembering what it was like and I wonder if I will ever completely heal emotionally from this.

I have had people suggest that I just walk away from Boobcast for a while. I can’t do that. Women email me regularly asking questions and seeking advice. I know what it’s like to be that terrified so abandoning the thing I have created here is not an option.

The upside is that where there were once great, wracking sobs, there are now just tears and a dull ache. Four years seems like forever and a single heartbeat at the same time. I guess I’m healing. They keep telling me that healing takes time. It’s just taking so long. I know that it will never be truly over because I will always bear the scars of reconstruction as a reminder. I will also always be here for others going through this nightmare.

I can’t abandon my post as long as I’m needed.

It has also been suggested that I start talking to women’s groups about what I have experienced. With the settlement I have, I’m not sure I can do that, but I’m looking in to it. The recent cease and desist letter I got about my comments on the Complaints Board scares the Hell out of me. We’re having a lawyer look at that to make sure that it only pertains to the settlement and not the case itself. If that is the case and it only pertains to the settlement, I will probably start doing that.

In the mean time, life continues on. I still need to have one last round of tattooing done and hopefully that will be it for the medical stuff. I’m thinking that perhaps I’ll do it in November or December, depending on the tattooists schedule. I’ll post when I have something concrete.

Since finding the response from someone on the Complaints Board, I have been dealing with a great deal of rage and grief. I haven’t consulted a lawyer about this yet because right now I am emotionally incapable of having a discussion about this without breaking down into a sobbing mess.

My husband has contacted the doctor’s office and requested that their lawyer send us a copy of the agreement that we both signed. Since our original copy disappeared, we need to know for certain what we are dealing with. However, when Ken spoke to our trust lawyer, she said that just because someone on their side violated the agreement, that doesn’t mean that I was permitted to do the same.

I’m really not sure how that works. If someone breaches the terms of a contract, then that contract becomes null and void, doesn’t it? I really feel like I’m back at square one with this whole situation. It’s as if the surgeon and his people can do whatever they want, but I have no recourse. If I DO publish the name publicly, then I could potentially open myself up to a lawsuit.

If any of you have any ideas, I’d appreciate the input.

[Editor's Note: This post has been edited to remove a link and name under advice of my lawyer. Visit here for details]

If you can comment without naming the doctor, much appreciated.

I have written before about how I tried to deal with the legal ramifications of what happened to me. I also wrote about the settlement that currently binds me from mentioning the name of the surgeon. HOWEVER, before I agreed to the settlement that prohibits me and my “agents” from mentioning the surgeon’s name, I wrote a few posts. Those are listed below in my response to the reader’s questions.

Dear Reader;

I am, unfortunately, also bound from talking about the terms of the settlement as well. I DID have the option not to settle. At that point I was deeply clinically depressed and traumatized. I didn’t want that person to have anything to do with my medical care any more. I would start shaking every time I had an appointment. I just wanted it to be over with so I went with the first available way out.

People keep telling me that I’m brave. This is one of those instances where I was not. I DID put up a synopsis of what happened on the Complaints Board [Editor's Note: This post has been edited on advice from my lawyer.Please visit the link for details]

I never spoke to a lawyer about defamation, but I was a journalist so I know that once I signed those papers, I am legally bound, along with my “agents”, not to reveal his name. HOWEVER, those two links were written up before the contract went into effect.

Here is where things get interesting. I just happened to notice that a person I am presuming is the doctor in question or one of the 2-3 staff members familiar with the case (aka one of his “agents”), made a brief response to my initial post on the Complaints Board. I am presuming this because of the use of the phrase “ridiculous herbal remedy’ in the response. That is FAR too personal to have been written by someone just reading entries on the complaints board.

And so, dear reader, I am going to war. For some reason I am having technical difficulties logging on and making a response to that accusation. Once I do, you all may want to stop by for a look because I can guarantee that things are going to get very, VERY interesting.

This surgeon does not know with whom he is messing. He’s about to find out.

One trip to the clinic and a blood test later and the Doc dropped my dosage to 25 mcg. He’s going to ramp me up slowly to a standard dosage because while my blood test results showed improvement, it’s not *enough* of an improvement.

However, now that my metabolism is improving, I’ve started to lose a little weight. How do I know this? I was cleaning out my closet and found some old embroidered jeans that I love in a size smaller than the size I wear now. On a whim I tried them on and while they’re a little bit snug, they fit.

This is, of course, what triggered an adventure in fear. I have told my husband repeatedly that this is an unreasonable fear. I *know* it’s unreasonable. But my emotions and the past overrule reason every time. I am scared to death that if I lose a lot of weight the Twins will shrink away to nothing and I’ll be back to being the deformed, sub-human thing that I was before Dr. Elliott did the reconstruction.

Like I said…unreasonable fear.

Yes, the Twins will shrink as the rest of my body does. It’s just biology. But I’m still terrified.

I’m considering seeing a psychologist about this. I think it may be related to the post traumatic stress disorder flashbacks I had for a while. Those only occur once every few months now and only in the shower. It’s been going on long enough that I may need to see someone though.

And so the Boobcast saga continues.

I have been re-reading comments from my Breast Necrosis Photos article and I realized that I have to address this topic in MUCH more depth. I gave this article such a vague title because a couple commenters on the aforementioned article used the term “excise” for the non-surgical removal of necrotic breast tissue.

Excise means “to remove by cutting”. That is the least common use of the word “excise”. It also means to erase or remove by crossing out. I’m not sure how many surgeons are actually using the word “excise” in relation to the actual removal of necrotic tissue.

My experience was different. The nurses always used the term “Debridement” when talking about removing my necrotic tissue.  Debridement is defined as : surgical removal of foreign material and dead tissue from a wound.

So I suppose you could say they mean the same thing. The definition of debridement, in my opinion, sounds much less violent and painful. I’m guessing that’s why more medical professionals use it instead of excising. No one wants to have things cut off of us. It conjures up really frightening imagery.

I know it sounds downright terrifying to be told that your surgeon is going to remove the necrotic tissue. I know this because I was terrified beyond belief, myself. I want to reassure you, dear reader, that it does NOT hurt. It is in NO WAY painful. And while the entire situation is horrendous beyond my ability to describe, you will not feel anything beyond a tugging or pulling sensation while it is being done.

My advice: Don’t look while it’s being done. Bring your MP3 player and listen to something that will keep your focus off the process. Focus on breathing deeply and slowly. Think about something that makes you feel calm and at ease…a favorite vacation spot or a happy memory. Put all your focus on that.

The Procedure: The day I had my debridement done I came in to the exam room and they had me sit in the big chair with the surgical-style light over it. It looks kind of like a dentists chair but more comfortable.

To my right was a tray with a few instruments: Forceps, surgical scissors, a kidney-shaped tray, gauze, a scalpel and a few other things. The scalpel scared the hell out of me because I was anticipating pain already.

When the scalell was unpackaged from it’s sterile holder, I closed my eyes and started breathing deeply, focusing on trying not to cry or panic. Then they turned on the very bright surgical light above me. The nurse told me very softly that they were starting and all I was going to feel was some tugging. She urged me to try to relax and reassured me that it would be over with soon.

She was right. Since the tissue they removed was dead, there was nothing (no nerves) to transmit pain signals. I heard the occasional metallic snip of surgical scissors and felt some tugging and pulling, but there was NO PAIN.

As terrifying as debridement or excise sounds, as horrifying as having dead tissue removed from my body was, it wasn’t nearly as bad as it sounded. When it was all over there was a bed of healthy tissue so that I could start healing properly without the interference of the necrotic tissue.

Recuperation really IS a long, drawn out process. It is SO much more than physical. I’ve talked about the mental and emotional aspects before as well. It’s a convoluted aspect of healing wherein each state ties in to each of the other. It’s the Gordian Knot of Recuperation.

Here’s an example. I know that I am temporarily satisfied with the Twins. I know that I eventually want nipples. Surgery is just a four letter word right now. The idea of more surgery stresses me out to the point that I almost start crying. On the opposite end of the spectrum, not EVER having the surgery makes me tear up.

The thought of more surgery makes me fearful. I’m terrified of something going wrong and developing necrosis again. I’m also not thrilled with the idea of being cut on again even if it IS only surface work and outpatient surgery. I’m angry that I have to make these decisions in the first place.

I also own that if I had not put myself in this position in the first place I wouldn’t have to be making these decisions. Nor would I be putting my family through everything we have been through since this whole ordeal began.

Regular readers know that I am indecisive. It takes me ages to to come to a final conclusion. Usually I am anxiety ridden about a thing for months, if not years. Making the nipple surgery decision falls into that category without a doubt.

It’s also a very individual decision. I have seen a woman who bought prosthetic nipples without having reconstructive surgery. She felt that even without the mounds, what she missed most was not having nipples. Other women I have spoken to are simply happy with just the mounds and nothing else. Others don’t want to take a chance on a second surgery, so they find prosthetics and still others are so afraid that they don’t do anything at all.

Trying to make the “right” decision is enough to drive you mental. Just make sure that whatever you decide, it’s what YOU want. YOU have to live in your body. No one else does.

Originally written on Oct. 26, 2009

This is another one of those issues that comes with being mostly boob-less.  Clothes shopping is frustrating.  I feel more comfortable in the Men’s section than the Women’s. The women’s section, even if there is no one else there, is a constant reminder of what I don’t have.

It’s also more difficult to find clothes that fit. Anything that fits tightly across the chest shows the outline of my deformity. And lets face it, most women’s clothing is geared to fit close to the body and accentuate our breasts. Even the camisoles with foam cups give a minor indication that something isn’t quite right because  of how the cups move since they’re not filled with breast tissue.

The men’s section offers a better selection of loose-fitting clothes. So I shop at Goodwill because I know that when this is over I can take the clothes back and donate them again. Someone else will be able to get use out of them when it’s all done.

Aside from this mangled thing that once was my chest, I think that shopping in the men’s section is one more reason I just don’t feel feminine. (see other Girly Girl posts).

Now in the movie “Dogma” the character called the Muse talked about how what defines a woman falls between two things…her legs. From a biological standpoint that IS true. Boys have a penis and girls have a vagina, after all. From a societal standpoint, however, women are judged by their breasts. If I don’t have breasts, am I still really a woman?

Breast cancer patients go through the same thing WHILE fighting a disease that could kill them. That’s why I can’t begin to compare myself to a breast cancer survivor. Not in the physical sense anyway. Mentally we go through much of the same thing. We question if we’re still actually women. We feel diminished; as though we’re somehow not fully human and wonder how our partners will EVER find us attractive again.

Yes, that complicated ball of emotions comes with clothes shopping. In the men’s section.

As the title says, this is the 200th installment of BoobCast. Today I am writing about you, dear reader. Today’s installment is all about the support and the stories that people have shared with me since I first started this blog on Oct. 11, 2008.

When I first started writing this, I was also fairly active on a website called All About Plastic Surgery (http://www.allaboutplasticsurgery.com). When I posted what had happened to me it didn’t take long before I was inundated by questions about various aspects of the surgery. You can find that entry here: http://boobcast.net/2008/10/14/questions/ People expressed a great deal of concern about how well I had checked out the surgeon, what indications I might have had and what legal recourse I might have taken. During that period so many people gave their support and I am grateful for it. So my thanks goes out to the women of the All About Plastic Surgery forum. They were the ones who inspired the idea for BoobCast.

Now you’re probably asking yourself, “Gee Maria, why do you call it BoobCast? Were they wrapped in plaster or something at one point?”

No, dear reader. There are reasons this site is called BoobCast.  In 2007 the podcasting community lost a precious member by the name of Joe Murphy. He died of a vicious type of cancer that took him quickly. During his medical treatments he talked in vivid detail about what was going on, the testing and all of it. His strength inspired me. I wanted to be as strong and as brave as Joe Murphy. So I planned to podcast what was going on with my breast necrosis. The name of that podcast was going to be BoobCast.

I never met Joe but his life inspired me. It just turns out that I’m not that strong or that brave. To honor that bravery I have kept the name.

I also owe thanks to a very dear friend, Tee Morris. When I was trying to find the strength to create BoobCast, He was there for me. He gave me mental and emotional support by letting me know that I *could* do it. I’m sorry I disapointed you Tee but want to thank you for being a friend when I needed one.

In the time I’ve been writing BoobCast I have had people email me directly for advice. Of course, after reading the email, my advice was always “Contact your PS (plastic surgeon) and ask for [fill-in-the-blank]. Whether it was about bruising, skin texture or pain, I advised talking to their doctor. If they couldn’t get a decent answer from that doctor, talk to another one.

The one that really broke my heart was the husband of a woman who, a few days previous the email,  had the same procedure I had. According to her husband, the pain pills her PS had given her weren’t doing much and she was in constant pain. She couldn’t eat or sleep and she was suffering. I told her husband to call her PS immediately and insist on different pain meds and not take NO for an answer. i explained that, right now it was his job to advocate for his wife since she couldn’t do it herself.

A couple days later I got an email from him saying that her PS had changed her meds and she was doing MUCH better. It’s emails like those that made BoobCast well worth the emotional pain of writing those early posts.

I also want to thank everyone who talked to me about BoobCast at DragonCon last year. Being told in person that I’m making a difference means the world to me. Thank you for taking the time to talk to me.

Finally, my thanks to Carol Montoya, Lolly Daskal and the Woman At Denny’s. I promise that once I’ve had nipple reconstruction and recuperate from that, I WILL write the book. The foundation is in the works already.

My thanks to you all for reading, commenting and talking to me. Here’s to another 200!

I’ve said for months now that I love the Twins. They’re beautiful and I’m so grateful for Dr. Franklyn Elliott and his skills as an artist and surgeon.  As happy as I am with them, that doesn’t negate the fact that they are, well let’s face it, Gazongas. These aren’t sweater puppies, they’re sweater Great Danes.

Remember Fluffy from the first Harry Potter movie? Yeah. Like that.

And so, because I now have Monster Tits, I have “outgrown” my formal wardrobe. I have a stunning fully beaded silk sleeveless shell. It won’t zip. Why? Monster Tits.

I have a full length chocolate-brown velvet gown. It’s threatening to rip. Why? Monster Tits.

My beautiful red and gold velvet pattered bolero shrug with beaded fringe? You guessed it. It fell victim to Monster Tits. And sadly, the matching shirt must go with it.

And finally, my black sheer silk with the beaded blue and green floral pattern with sheer jacket? About one size two small.. Through the chest.

I LOVE those pieces. Now they get to find a new home through a local consignment shop.

I was going to say that perhaps disappointment was too strong a word but it isn’t. Adding to the disappointment is frustration. Now I have to lay out more money for formal wear because my dear, sweet husband has surprised me with a four night cruise for my birthday (Jan. 30). If you have ever been on a cruise or have seen cruises shown on the Travel channel, you know  that there is a Formal Night. Rather than waiting, now I’ve got to spend the money for a formal gown.

On TOP of all that, at the beginning of March we’re going on the Amazing Adventure 5: Skeptics of the Caribbean Cruise. Since that’s a 7 day cruise, there are not one but TWO formal events.

I’ve already found a gorgeous evening gown on IGIGI.com http://bit.ly/6HbPfJ Now I have to find another. I’m hoping that the consignment shop that I’m going to tomorrow will have something reasonable and stunning in my size.

I knew that I would have to replace wardrobe pieces. I’ve already talked about having to donate a big chunk of my casual wardrobe. I just didn’t make the connection to my formal wardrobe as well.

And so, tonight Dear Reader, I am signing off as:

Disappointed and Frustrated

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.