Once my surgery was scheduled I started to plan my recovery. I'd hoped to recover over Christmas, when I have 6 weeks off from school and fellowship stuff, and use the long boring time of recovery to rest and write.
I decided on implant/expander surgery. This wasn't what I'd planned at all. I do not like the idea of foreign "stuff" in my body, nor am I comfortable with having a new surgery every 10 years to replace the implants. But the last photos my doc sent of the TUG surgery freaked me out. Not only that, but the surgery and recovery are shorter for implant/expander surgery. The plastic surgeron also assured me that I could do the TUG surgery (or another tissue flap surgery) later in my life--after kids, after maintaining a stable weight for a few years.
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| {trench- paul and joe sister; sweater-anthro; jeans-levi's; tank-h&m; bag-furla} |
Anyhow, my mother promised back in April to come help during my recovery; during the first week to 10 days, I'll need a lot of help. But when I told her the date, she freaked out.
Mom: That's finals week. Can you ask the doctor about the following week?
Me: Um, it's two doctors. The surgical oncologist and the plastic surgeon. They go into surgery once a week.
Mom: I have to send in my grades. Didn't you check my schedule?
Me: I can look into hiring a home health aid for the first few days. I'll probably be sleeping most of the time anyway.
Mom: I am insulted. I can't talk about this right now.
I was confused. I know how critical the end of the semester is for professors, but mom had told me that she had plenty of leave coming, and wouldn't hesitate to take it. Also...isn't this my surgery?
But I felt as if my hands were tied: the rest of my family is in Tennessee. I have great friends, but I still consider this surgery mostly a private matter...and couldn't expect round-the-clock care from people outside of family. I wouldn't even ask for it.
The next available date for surgery is January 10, when my mom can get an adjunct or grad student to start the semester for her. I am frustrated and feel a little bullied about the whole thing. But I do realize that this is elective surgery, no matter how essential it feels to me.
So there's my new date: new year, new breasts, eh?
