As Cammy christened them, my noobs are on board. Swollen – well the surrounding tissue – a little uneven, and sore, but they arrived with much fanfare.
As usual I required an elephant-sized dose of midazalom (sedative) before heading back to the OR. So I have little memory of anything until the recovery room when I awoke to a gravely voiced nurse asking me if I wanted more pain medication. I asked what she was giving me. “Morphine”, she rasped. Crap. The pain receptors in my brain and elsewhere really enjoy fentanyl so much more. “I can’t convince you to dribble in a dash of …” “NO. We only use that for patients being admitted.” OK, but I warned her that I would get really chatty with morphine. Not like a mean drunk chatty, but very mouthy. She quickly found this out when the computer terminals at each bedside started winking out. “It’s the server”, I sang. She mumbled across the aisle to the nurse who had pre-op’ed me to reboot. “Noooo. It’s a hospital-wide server issue. La-la-la.” Glaring at me, she pushed more morphine and went to call the help desk. As I drifted off, I heard her barking at everyone to stop rebooting because it was a server issue. “Now can I have my fentanyl?” All that got me was a really quick discharge from the recovery room and into the arms of my sweetie. I was poured into the back seat of the car (not wanting a deployed airbag to hit my
foobs noobs) and mumbled directions to the nearest Starbucks to cure my caffeine headache. Suddenly I grabbed my chest wall. “SOFT! SUE! THEY’RE SOFT!”
That night the phone range and on the other end was my surgeon! He called to advise me (starting with, “Hey, dopey”) that I would experience significantly more pain than he had led me to expect. Apparently my weight loss had left the “pockets” for the implants very loose and required mucho extra suturing, some into my sternum. (Ouch) Two days later, the great unveiling occurred in Dr. N’s office. All 3 of us were impressed despite the swelling and unevenness, which will subside with time. I do have 2 drains and a lot of restrictions on arm movements and exercise (specifically, no exercise). This morning, however, I got to take a shower and have not had anything stronger than Tylenol for over 12 hours. I’m stiff. I bitch about the drains and wearing a compression bra 24/7. I get back spasms, but this surgery recovery has been much easier than the mastectomy – much to Sue’s relief. By Monday I should be ready for a very nice dinner for our 20th anniversary. Isn’t that what you get on your 20th? New tits?