Air expander etiquette
I'm going in for phase 1 of my reconstructive surgery in two weeks. I'm having the air expander inserted under my right pectoral muscle in order to gradually expand the skin where my long lost right breast used to be. It seems awkwardly weird at best and freakish at worst. I will have a remote control device to expand the skin at my leisure, to the size I wish. My plastic surgeon, who’s personality, I must say, is slowly growing on me, was quick to crack jokes when explaining it. I initially decided I didn’t really like him. I didn’t like anyone remotely involved in the cosmetic surgery game, nor appreciate stuff from him like, ‘don’t stand too close to the garage door when using the remote’, and ‘don’t let your husband get hold of it at night when you’re sleeping’. He was so egotistically confident in his own sense of humour, and his judgement of mine, that I don’t think he noticed I wasn’t actually laughing. So I made the booking for surgery and I parked it. I put all the info in my cancer drawer, closed it tightly, had a ‘why me’ cry and got on with my life. Appointment with asshole cosmetic surgeon, done. Surgery booked for 2016, tick.
It's been 18 months now since I lost my breast. Although it seems so recent that I went through the frightening ordeal of a breast cancer diagnosis and then right mastectomy, having two breasts seems like a lifetime ago. I guess you could say I have become very accustomed to my current flat and scarred right side. Although I have become used to seeing it in the mirror, it was always a temporary look for me. And now here I am, ready to change again. Ready to say goodbye to the mastectomy look. I feel some ambivalence about it however. I won't miss that androgynous, concave side to me, but it is me nonetheless, and that's significant. Me with my scar and missing breast is a symbol of both strength and vulnerability. It is both kick-ass, take no shit and it is also a reminder of illness. It makes me think that I could get through any day going forward, because I have the markings of something hard core on me. It also leaves me feeling incredibly unsexy, old at 40, and mortal.
So here I am, about to embark on the next phase. Since being well, I have been very caught up in my work, my small children, the holidays. I have given the imminent reconstructive surgery and months of awkward recovery and expanding and discomfort very little thought. Staff at work ask me where I’m going on my holiday. Ummmm, Melbourne, I say – which is true, just not the shopping, eating and celebrating trip to Melbourne one imagines. I realised that I had not even thought through what prothesis or bra to wear with an expander at work. What's air expander etiquette these days I wonder? I was wondering that this morning as I rushed into my health fund. I had only enough change for 3 minutes in the parking meter and my 2 year old under my arm screaming to get to Kindergym. I needed to enquire about what parts of my whacking great bill (due today), are covered by private health. I didn’t anticipate I’d be met at the desk by 22 year old hotty ‘Brad’ to talk reconstructive surgery and post mastectomy costs through. He was helpful and very respectful, I just still can’t believe this is my life sometimes. I need to slow down, embrace it, breathe. So I feel ready. Ready to rock the air expander, why the hell not? Ready to laugh at my surgeon’s jokes (he’s actually quite a good guy), ready to grab hold of and engage in the next phase.
(I’m hoping my scar will continue to be a reminder of strength, and my new breast creates a sense of wholeness, symmetry and femininity). Such.a.journey.
