This has been a VERY long time coming. I started writing it in my head when I woke up from my op and then 7 months later I’ve finally just got around to finishing it. But in true JK Rowling fashion I cant leave my fans hanging without completing the final chapter. If this is what it is.
Operation New Boob!
On Tuesday 5th December at 4am my alarm went off. The only time my alarm ever goes off that early is when I am getting up to get to the airport and jetting off on a holiday. As soon as I opened my eyes I was not filled with the excitement of two weeks in the sun, but instead the realisation that after a wait of 3 years I was finally going to get my new boob! The uncomfortable, but good looking expander, that was only supposed to be in me for 18 months, was to be no more.
Spence and I set off in the dark to Southmead Hospital. I needed to be there for 7am. In true Amy style, we got there with plenty of time to spare. Checked in and was shown to a pre op room.
It was not long before I had all of my obs checked and then in came my surgeon, Ms Phillipa Jackson. She was in very good spirits and filled me with confidence as always. She got out her sharpie and started to draw all over me. She drew several solid circles around the “Bad boob” and a dotted circle around the “Good boob” with an arrow pointing to it and the word “No”. She then continued with the pen and marked out a HUGE area on my stomach which was the area to be removed and repurposed to make my new boob. This section was from hip to hip and approximately seven inches high. From just below my bikini line to just above my belly button. The whole area would be removed! The belly button also had to go and a new one made. The idea of this freaked me out. I wasn’t massively attached to my current belly button but the thought of it being removed was odd to me. Ms Jackson promised to make me one that looked “very similar”.
On the back of Ms Jacksons hand she had some measurements scribbled. These were notes to her as to where the blood vessels in my stomach were. At this point in her scribbling and measuring, we were joined by another two surgeons who stood and watched as she decided which of my blood vessel’s would be the best ones to use. There was lots of medical muttering between them all and then in came in two anaesthetist’s to chat to me about what was going to happen and to reassure me that I was not going to wake up during the op! phew.
Despite meeting Ms Jackson several times before today, I had a million questions. I asked Phillipa if she would listen to music while she was doing my op., like you see in films. She told me that she had a play list with her consisting of some classical and some country and western! Apparently with a bit of Beyonce chucked too if she felt like it.
The room cleared and after about 30 minutes of waiting with Spence, it was time for shit to get real. I left the room in my surgical stockings, non slip socks and my gown. It was a good look. I had been feeling totally fine up until this point. I had waited so long, I had had years to get my head around all of this but as soon as I left the safety of the little pre op room and kissed Spence goodbye, I shed a tear. I wasn’t scared, just sad at seeing the look on Spences face as I walked away and left him behind. But this was it. At long last.
In the operating theatre there were four surgeons, two anesthetists and four other nurses. This seemed like a lot of effort for just little old me, and I apologised to them for taking up so much of the NHS’s valuable resources just for my new boob. They laughed and assured me they didn’t mind being there at all which was a relief.
I hopped up on to the bed, spun round to lie on my back and laid there while they all fussed around me putting cannulas in the back of my hand etc. I had two inserted, incase one fails. I HATE cannulas so was not impressed with this part and memories of chemo came flooding back to me. And then the time had come. It was out of it.
First night in hospital.
Spence got a call about 14:30 to let him know that everything had gone well and he could come back to hospital to see me. I woke up in the same small room in which I had had my pre op. There was a huge jolly black lady sat next to me saying my name and rubbing my hand, and Spence in the corner. He was sure that I was fine as the nurse told him I woke up and before I had even opened my eyes, was asking her a million questions!
My surgeon came in to check on me. She lifted the bedsheet “I’m just going to have a quick look. Yep. I’m very happy with that. It’s a BIT bigger than the other one but that SHOULD settle” “Should?” I was bloody hoping it would! Last thing I wanted after all this was one HUGE boob. (I’m pleased to say it has since settled in size to match the other one) I was black and blue. There were finger print bruises all over me but it was done. They had also, somehow managed to squish me in to some very tight support pants which came up under my boobs, whilst I was under aesthetic. I would love to have seen how they managed that!
What I also found out, was that nearing the end of the op, Ms Jackson was surprised to hear that her daughters playlist clicked in and she sewed me up to “Milkshake” by Kelis!!
I was as high as a kite. I had no idea what was going on or really where I was. The painkillers they gave me were doing the trick and considering I’d had my sternum broken, been cut in half and rebuilt like a “Build a bear” I was having a lovely time!
I was moved to the burns ward to recover. It felt like a flew there but really I had just been wheeled there in my hospital bed. My jolly nurse came with me and had some very strict instructions for the nurses she was handing me over too. I arrived at shift change and the handover did not go so well.
24 hours after surgery is a very risky time as the new blood supply to the new boob can fail. I needed to be monitored very carefully and my new boob looked at every hour. I had to be kept still, on my back, hydrated and VERY warm. I was covered in what I can only describe as a heated lilo. Head to toe blasting in 38 degrees of horrid, sticky hot air. It was like torture. I hated it and there was nothing I could do about it. I wriggled and wriggled and tried to escape but I was pinned down under it. After about an hour of moaning/negotiation, it was agreed that I’d be allowed to have my legs sticking out a bit if it would “Stop me fidgeting”. I cannot begin to tell you what a relief this was.
My jolly nurse handed me over to the night shift. To say these ladies were not massively interested in the specific list of care instructions I came with is probably an understatement. I get that they had a lot of people to deal with and probably did not want to be there, but I did need a bit of reassurance they would do their best to prevent my new boob from dying in the night!
The whole operation was very clever, but this bit was crazy……as the new tissue that was making my boob was inside me, under the skin on my chest, there was no way of telling how it was getting
on and if the new blood supply it had was working. To get around this I was attached to a “Doppler”. A tiny, 2mm ring inside me that my blood vessels had been threaded through. Attached to this was a small, fine wire and what looked like an aux lead attachment sticking out of my boob. This plugged me in to an ultrasound machine through which the nurses and I, could hear the blood flow. This had to be checked every hour without fail. Despite being told several times, my nightshift team didn’t seem too bothered about this instruction. My jolly nurse was not so jolly anymore at their lack of attention. She made a few calls and they soon became more interested. I didn’t want to go through all of that to then have my boob die at the hands of an overworked agency nurse who couldn’t care less.
The pain was kicking in now. And my god…….
I was led on my back and was not allowed to move for 24 hours. I was so uncomfortable from the heat. I asked for more painkillers. I was given two tramadol. They didn’t even touch the sides so a bit later, I asked for something else. I was given some oxycodone (Watch the Netflix series called Painkiller if you want to know more about these!) like synthetic heroin! Then they alllllllllllllllllll kicked in at once and I have never been so high in my entire life! WOW. That was some STRONG stuff. Spence said I was talking to him and then I’d just switched off. Like I’d go into standby mode and just stare in to space.
Spence couldn’t stay all night with me. As much as he wanted to watch me away with the fairy’s. He stayed as long as he could and then headed off home to fill the dogs and family in, on today’s antics.
I didn’t sleep at all the first night. I had hourly observations done, I was plugged in to my machine every hour, my duvet was lifted up and my boob poked and then as a special little treat I had my heated lilo tucked back in to me where I’d managed to wriggle it off a bit without anyone seeing. My oxygen levels were very low so I was hooked up to some oxygen too which just blew cold, dry, noisy air up my nose. This was all getting a bit grim. Luckily the painkillers helped me float my way through the first night.
In the morning, I was woken up by the catering assistant asking what I wanted for breakfast. I was so tired I didn’t want to eat at all. I asked for some juice and a yoghurt. 15 minutes later she reappeared, threw this on to the tray next to me and left. After a bit of wriggling, I shortly realised that this was now well out of my reach. I pressed my alarm to call her back and let her know. She stomped back in I explained my predicament she could not have cared less. She pushed the tray over to me and huffed. I politely told her that she didn’t need to be quite so rude. When she re appeared later to clear my half eaten yogurt, she didn’t say a word and neither did I.
A short while later a lovely nurse came in to check on me and at long last remove this bloody lilo. It was bliss! She was my hero. As she went to open the curtains, she tripped over a chair, flew across the room, grabbed on to the curtains, pulled the rail off the wall and smacked her head on the window! She sat on the floor holding her head and I could do nothing. I couldn’t get up, I couldn’t reach the alarm and the door was shut so no one would hear me shout. After about 5 minutes she managed to stand and hobble off to get looked at. I think she then must have gone home as I didn’t see her again.
Jen came in to see me in the afternoon complete with some Haribo and a sudoku. It was lovely to have a visitor although I’m not sure I was the best company. The nurses wanted me to keep eating chewing gum to “keeping things moving along inside” I HATE chewing gum so as soon as Jen came in, I made her tell the nurses I’d had some, and then got her to throw it in the bin for me. I could tell that lying to medical professionals did not sit well with her but I dragged her into my lies. I showed her my swollen, bruised new boob and stomach and she was very impressed. The pain was starting to kick in again by now.
Wednesday.
In the morning, I had a visit from the surgeon, breast care nurse and the physio. “Right then. Time to get you up and about and moving around” NO. BLOODY. WAY! That seemed like a crazy idea and I did not want to stand up and risk bursting in half. However, to make you move they take out your catheter so you have two options. Get up or wet the bed. I decided to get up.
A nurse came a nurse to help me. We maneuvered the bed so I was in as much of an upright sitting position as I could be and then I had to swing around so my legs were hanging off the bed and stand. This was agony. I felt so bruised and so sore, not to mention doubled over where I had so much of my stomach removed. I cussed and moaned and cried and they had none of it. They got me off the bed and as far as a commode. Bugger if they thought I was going to walk the 6 steps to the bathroom. No chance! Lots of tears and back in to bed with more painkillers. I was still being pumped full of fluids but I was dreading the thought of having to get up again to go to the loo so I didn’t drink anything they told me too. I’d like to say it got easier and I managed to get the hang of getting up but I really didn’t. I cried every time and needed a lot of help. The nurses were great and very gentle with me. This is just what I needed by now. The pain was still bad and I was asking for all the painkillers they would give me. I just needed to rest. It wasn’t worth anyone else coming to visit as they wanted me home the following day.
That night was bad. There is no way I was letting them send me home yet. Mentally there was no way I was ready to be discharged. I needed a bit more looking after in my opinion.
Thursday
Still in hospital. Lots of surgeon and physio visits telling me how I “should be up and walking around by now”. I lied and told them I had been up and sat in the chair for a bit. I hadn’t at all. No chance! This was far too painful.
Friday
I was going home. The surgeon came in to discharge me and said she would see me in March! She was obviously quite confident in her work if she didn’t need to see me before then. I’d have to go back for the nurse to see my dressings in a week (The bit of Sellotape across my boob and stomach) but other than that, I was on my own. I was hopeful id been sent home with some painkillers but was told to swing by Boots on the way out and grab some paracetamol. That was all I was allowed.
The thought of sitting in the car with a seatbelt across my wounds was terrifying. What if we crashed? What if I’m sick? I might burst open! I dosed up on anti-sickness and was wheeled out to the car. Spence drove so carefully the hour home only managing to hit the one huge pot hole on the way. I think the obscenities that came out of my mouth after that put him off it happening again and he saw the error of his ways.
It was a dream to be back in my own bed and my own house. Now it was time for the recovery to really begin. Good food, lots of rest and daily exercise. And another 2 weeks of tight support pants for 24 hours a day.
We had put all of the Christmas decorations up at the beginning of the month so it was nice to come home and feel a bit of festive spirit. Id also done all of my Christmas shopping well in advance so didn’t have much to worry about other than my road to recovery.
I was quite self sufficient after about a week at home and was surprised at what I was able to do despite the enormity of the operation. I was still not able to stand up straight as my stomach was so tight. My back was killing me but I went for short walks every day. I had several visitors who I think were shocked to see me open the door when they arrived and up and about and making cups of tea. I was not supposed to lift much or do much at all so I picked and chose what bits and bobs I fancied doing around the house. Resting and recovering was boring and there was only so much watching TV I could do. Not being able to drive for 6 weeks was going to be hard. It was a rubbish time of year to be house bound.
Check up
We arrived back at Southmead a week after my operation. The walk from the car park to the plastics department is a long one. I checked in and the “here to help lady” approached me “Oh you poor thing. You look in a lot of pain, do you want a wheelchair?” I was in agony but determined to walk it. The nurse was delighted at how my wounds had healed and how everything was looking. My surgeon popped in to say hello and admire her hard work. She also took the opportunity to tell me I needed to start trying to stand up straight. I’d like to see her bloody try after having that op. But I appreciate that on this occasion, she probably did know best.
Everything was looking great. The boob was less swollen although still very bruised, my stomach was amazing and completely flat. Yes ladies, a tummy tuck and boob job all in one. (Heard that a MILLION times now) My new belly button was also healing well and looked good. I think it might be a bit higher than the old one but who knows. I’m not complaining. I had now had body confidence like id not known in years. I love my new boob and I love my new body shape after the op. I have never had a stomach this flat in my entire life!
I used this check up as an opportunity to ask when I might be able to get back to the gym. “12 weeks” 12 weeks?!! I was going to go mad. Id been taking part in classes as part of my build up to this since Feb. I was getting so strong and seeing a huge change in my body. To let that slip for nearly 3 months was depressing. I was itching to get back to it.
To nipple or not?
When I had my mastectomy, they removed the nipple. To be honest I didn’t care. They had to do what they had to do and its never bothered me at all. They have always asked me if I wanted to have tattoo or even have another one made and I was not too fussed. However, on the visit in March to see the surgeon I was offered a prosthetic one. Yep, that’s right, a stick on nipple!
Why not, I will give it a go. Its free.
The surgeon went off and came back with a HUGE box of prosthetic nipples. In every possible shape, size and colour you can imagine. She very proudly presented them too me to pick from, like an expensive box of hotel chocolat! Not going to lie, none of them looked anything like my remaining nipple but we agreed on one that was roughly the same colour and size. “Go home, stick it on for a few weeks and see how you get on with it. If you like it, we get you back, make you own and then you can decide if you want to have a permanent tattoo or not” I hadn’t taken a handbag with me so put my new, stick on nipple in my pocket. Off I went, back to the car always checking it was still there.
Went to the loo, hand in my pocket, nipple still there. I decided to stop on the way to the carpark and get a coffee. Hand in my pocket, nipple still there. Got my coffee, hand in my pocket, nipple still there. Walked to the machine to pay for the carpark and the nipple had gone!!!! My heart sank. Was it on the counter at costa coffee? Was it on the floor? I frantically retraced my steps, and it was nowhere to be seen. I have no idea where it went. For all I know it was now stuck to the bottom of someone’s shoe, or a child might have picked it up. RIP nipple. Sorry NHS.
So what now?
On Thursday 8th August I have an appointment in Southmead to get another prosthetic nipple. This will be specially made for me and not one from a box of “NHS value nipples”. They take photos and moulds of the other one, and they will have one specially made for me. I then I go back two weeks later when they present it to me (in a gold box I hope) and apparently show me how to “Care for it, keep it clean and where to position it” (Sounds like a Tamagotchi!) I could probably have a good guess at where to position it, but I will humour them and take their advice.
“Is that it now then?”
Something I get asked all the time, and do you know what … I don’t know. I don’t know what will happen next week or next month and I am totally ok with that. I have spent years, and I mean YEARS, of my life worrying and stressing about things that ultimately are out of my control and I refuse to do that now. I have turned “What if…” in to “even if…” and it’s giving me a different, refreshing, carefree perspective on life which I really am loving.
I’ve been meaning to write about my op for some time, but it felt very odd. I kept putting it off as I feel sad at the thought of not sharing my journey with you all any more. But of course, hugely grateful that this chapter of my life has come to an end
What I do know is that all of the treatment I have had over the past 4 years was to remove as much of the cancer and the cancer cells in my body, as they medically could get rid of. It has been horrid and there have been times where I have struggled to see the end to it all but I have learnt so much from this experience and it has made me the person that I am today.
So for now. Hopefully, yes …. I think that is it xxx