I'm A Mutant

An Award???? Moi????

So a few days ago, I found the following message in my inbox:

You have been identified as a leader in the Breast Cancer community. By sharing your personal, first-hand experiences with this disorder on your blog (I'm a mutant), you have helped others. AccessDNA's mission is to help increase the awareness of both rare and common genetic disorders by creating accessible and reliable information on genetic conditions.  We respect your efforts and are privileged to distinguish your blog with the following award:

 

Believe it or not, this mutant has won an award.  I am a now officially a "Breast Cancer Community Leader" by whomsoever it is that magically designates the "leaders".  So don't mess with me.   

An even greater source of amazement is the fact that I managed to paste the badge into this post.

But in truth, I am actually pleased that someone chose to read my crap-o-blog and give me this award.

So thank you to Jordanna Joaquina, and the folks at AccessDNA.com for this award. 

I hope I can live up to your expectations.

On Good Authority

So I went to see my "regular" gynecologist today - Dr. Lucky, for a routine pap smear.   If you want the full picture of Dr. Lucky (and why I call her that), I suggest you read this post.  

Basically, Dr. Lucky belongs in the Guiness Book of World Records.  Surely there must be a category for "Able to do stand up comedy while poking around in your vagina."

Sad to say that since my oophorectomy I have had some ...er...um.....intimacy issues.  (You'd think a woman who says "fuck" as frequently as I do would just get to the point on this one.) But let's just say that things start out fine but during the act, I get increasingly uncomfortable as it seems that my flower bed can no longer produce adequate amounts of pollen on demand. 

I explained this to Dr. Lucky and she wrote me a prescription for something that ought to solve the problem.  She also advised me to try a certain over the counter product and she felt certain that it must work because, "I have patient who is in adult films, you know porn, and I ask her how they can do it for such a long time and she tell me that all of them use this stuff that makes them able to do it for a long time on camera so I figure she must know what she's talking about."

 

 

Hi Ho

Am planning to write more about the FORCE Conference when I get a chance.  In the meantime I thought I'd share some tidbits.

I started my new job yesterday.  Wore my first-day-of-work-very-serious navy blue power suit.  I don't have much to do yet so I was a bit bored.  How much net surfing can one mutant do in a given day?  (Fortunately, I no longer have a compulsive need to google things like "brain metastasis in BRCA related cancer" etc etc.)  But my new owners and my new co-workers are all smart and professional people so I am guardedly optimistic about this.

Came across photos of myself from my trip to Paris last summer.  I was wearing one of my favorite dresses with a plunging neckline designed to show off some decollete.  I was surprised to note that my boobs (the originals) were so saggy and lacking in well-defined cleavage.  I have a newfound appreciation for my perky counterfeits!

I'm going to try to blog more often even if it's just to post up all kinds of rubbish. . . speaking of which. . .

I never cared much for Vienna but Jake is clearly a dipshit!

Excessive FORCE

And now, a few words about the FORCE conference.     

The People

For me, the most significant and meaningful part of the FORCE conference was the opportunity to meet so many unique and special people.  That was the reason I decided to go. 

To name/describe just a few:

The mother and daughter from South Carolina who sat next to me one day at breakfast.  Mother was diagnosed with advanced ovarian cancer four years ago in her late 50s.  She tested positive for a BRCA2 mutation shortly thereafter.  This prompted Daughter, who was only twenty years old at the time, to be immediately tested.  She tested positive for the same mutation.  And there they were.  Mother is in remission and doing well. Daughter is mature beyond her years, accepting of these facts, unsure of her long term plans but fully able to discuss all of this with a grizzled old mutant like me.  

The filmmaker who made Dear Talula, Lori Benson appeared to answer questions after the showing of her documentary.  By the end of the movie, I had a touch of the weepies.  Okay, I also cried during Toy Story 3, but still. . .

Steph H, the author of Goodbye To Boobs who is every bit as witty, brilliant and insightful in person as she is in her blog.  But here's a little tidbit about GTB that is not obvious from her blog - she is a statuesque beauty and I am so jealous of her height. 

And of course, the Sisters of the Facebook BRCA Sisterhood  with whom I shared some fun evenings.   Extended hugs to Karen, Donna, Lita, Karin, Brandi, and Tricia.  (Teri, we missed you so much!) Thank you for inviting me to hang out.  It was a privilege to get to know each and every one of you and I will try to visit FB a little more frequently to say hi to you guys. 

Show and Tell

For the uninitiated, one of the highlights of the FORCE conference is the "Show and Tell" suite.  In a nutshell, downstairs is a cocktail party, complete with Champagne, cheese and crudites.  Upstairs everybody just takes off their shirts and shows each other their breast reconstructions, or in the case of one brave woman, the results of her decision to forgo any reconstruction. There is also quite a lot of poking, prodding and groping that goes on. 

In theory, the S & T is an opportunity for women who are considering mastectomy and reconstruction to see different types of reconstructions "in the flesh".  They also can make judgments about the technical abilities of different plastic surgeons.  However, the reality is that a majority of the women in the S & T room are women who have already had reconstruction.  Much of the showing and telling goes on between women who are already "done" and can't seem to get out of their clothes fast enough.  I myself confess to a certain eagerness to show off my new rack.  I guess deep down I still want/need affirmation from other women that I still am one.  Women in the S & T are pretty clued into this dynamic.  There's a lot of "oohing" and "aahing" that goes on during these reveals not dissimilar to the sounds one hears when a newly engaged bride shows off the rock.  These sounds usually accompany some sort of inevitable mental calculation - is mine better, worse or similar?  This can be viewed as petty female cattiness, that endless need for comparison, or it can be a source of newfound appreciation and gratitude.  As one mutant put it to me, "when I see so many who are satisfied with considerably less [cosmetically] than what I have, it makes me reconsider my decision to pursue revision surgery."  I feel similarly.  I have some imperfections in my reconstruction and a nasty scar that extends from one hip to the other straight across my back.  But I also have a lot to be grateful for and to feel good about.  

I am also happy to show because I am in the minority of women who have had "free" flap reconstruction.  Comparing the major methods of breast reconstruction that are available today and the pros and cons of each is beyond the scope of this blog.  You can read more about that here.  But I chose free flap reconstruction and I can say with absolute conviction that it was the right decision for me.  I'll never have that degree of certainty about a lot of things (my taste in men, the ballet flats I bought last week) but for me this one falls into the category of no brainer.  As such, I want to inform women that this option is out there (even if you're a petite woman like me) without turning into too much of an evangelist.  The nice thing about the Show and Tell room is that I don't have to preach at all.  Res ipsa loquitur - the thing speaks for itself. 

More on the conference anon. . .

 

The Hangover

I've been meaning to write some posts about the FORCE conference for a while now.  I've been held up for two primary reasons - first I've been trying to process it all and decide exactly what I want to say - it was such a whirlwind. 

But more immediately, we left on a short vacation to Las Vegas the day after I returned from Orlando.  Since then it's been a relentless cycle of cocktails, magicians, buffets, blackjack, pool scene, aqauriums, faux Eiffel Tower, faux Rialto Bridge, faux Elvis, real lions, real Picassos, spa, more cocktails, more blackjack, shopping, fine dining, and Cher.

I promise to Cher share my "feelings" on the conference as soon as I get a grip. 

Viva Las Vegas!  

The Mutant Has Landed

Gotta keep it short cuz I'm blogging on my iPhone.

I'm live at the FORCE conference, the greatest gathering of mutants on earth. People here are very nice and friendly.

Cocktails begin at 8. Further updates this evening unlikely.

Will try to post tomorrow.

Best Laid Plans

I'm a sucky blogger.  I admit it.  I get busy with other things and I don't blog.

But this is important to all of us mutants.  Please read Teri's post here, log into your Facebook account and VOTE!  If a dilettante like me can find the time to do it, so can you!

Okay, quick updates: Yes, I did go back to work two weeks ago following my revision surgery.  And one week after that I quit!  Yippee!  I have three days left at this job and then I'm off to the FORCE conference in Orlando.  Then another week off and new job starts right after July 4th weekend.

Next objectives:

1. Get big kids off to summer activities far away from home.  Fill out truckloads of redundant forms, arrange checkups with doctors, frantic packing, sign large checks and voila!

2. After Item #1 is accomplished - attempt CPR on flat-lining sex life attributable to multiple surgeries, haywire hormone levels, and unreliable and suspect body parts - does my vagina actually work anymore? 

Hopefully, we will be answering that scintillating question soon!

 

Looking Ahead

As I mentioned in a prior post, a few weeks before my stage 2 breast surgery, I turned down a job offer from a competitor.  Much to my surprise, my demurral merely resulted in a more intense courtship.  I've turned down job offers before wherein the prospective employer has returned to his or her pile of resumes and hired someone else.  Refusing to take "no" for an answer was a new experience for me.  Partly flattering, but also a little creepy - kinda like a stalker.  

In an effort to put this to rest, I told the prospective employer (whom I shall refer to as the "PE") the truth - that I had a mind-numbing medical condition, that it was life threatening even though I wasn't actually sick (talk about a mind-fuck), that I had already been through two surgeries and I had one more ahead of me, that it was utterly impossible for me to consider a job change when I needed every once of my mental reserves just get me through this last surgery and then I needed to recover and only then would I be in a position to figure out what I wanted to do with the rest of my life.

The PE was not at all put off by any of this.  In fact, she told me to take it easy, get well and the job was still open to me.  "Come in July.  Come in August.  Come whenever you're ready."  And then she sent a lovely bouquet of flowers with a get-well soon card to my hotel in New Orleans. (I had mentioned in passing where we would be staying.)

All of this would just be silly if not for the fact that (a) for reasons that I will spare you, my current employer sucks, (b) the PE is a much better outfit with a business model that is much more suited to my skill set, (c) the PE has smarter people and more resources, and (d) as a result of (a), (b) and (c) I stand to make much more money in the long run with the PE. 

I have consulted with colleagues in the industry and the verdict has been unambiguous and unanimous - go with the PE.  And I would have done just that already if I hadn't spent so much time and energy worrying about the size and shape of my breasts and butt - Valid concerns to be sure but the time is rapidly approaching when I need to put all of that behind me (yes!) and make positive choices about my future - take some chances, seize the opportunities in front of me.

And Boy Toy and I talked it over at length.  He pointed out that in some ways I used all of my surgeries over the past few months as an excuse, albeit a very good one, to avoid dealing with every other aspect of my life.  But if I really wanted the job, I should take the job.  And because I've spend so many hours going over and over this, it had become increasingly clear that I really wanted the job.

And he was right - affirmative - I DO want the job.   

So I'm going to take the job.  I'm having drinks with the PE on Friday night and I'll tell her then. 

Then I'm going to have to quit my job (for the second time!)  Ugh.  I hate that part.   

But I'm excited too.  .  .I think it's going to be great.

 

Looking Back

After my initial euphoria at being "all done" etc etc, some serious post-surgical depression set in.  Some of this is attributable to an unexpected cosmetic result. While inspecting the "new me", I turned around and looked over my shoulder and a feeling of pure horror washed over me:

Where the fuck is my ass? 

I always had a cute little butt.  Nothing big and dramatic, mind you.  But little round globes that filled out my jeans. 

But apparently, it's all been stretched out, flattened, shrunk, smoothed out and sacrificed to clean up my hip area.  There's no junk in the trunk.  No bootie.  What remains is a wide flat expanse of skin from hip to thigh.  Drape a checked cloth over it and you could serve a five course meal complete with wine pairings right off my butt - it's that flat.

Every time I see it, I just cry and cry.  I keep thinking that I look like a boy.  

You would think that with all the bits and pieces of my femininity that have been taken from me bit by bit over the past few months a flat ass would just be one more indignity to endure.

But for some reason, I took one look at that flat ass and I cracked. 

Twins

Stick a fork in me cuz I am done.  Done. Done. Done.

On Thursday, I had my third and final surgery. I flew down to New Orleans last Tuesday and checked into the hospital on Thursday.  I was released yesterday.

The purpose of this surgery was to correct flaws from my original reconstruction and optimize the cosmetic results.  Thus, I had a breast lift, liposuction on my thighs, and revision to the scars on my back.

Since my immediate reconstruction made my hips and waist so narrow I needed the lipo on my thighs because they looked like tree trunks in comparison. 

The original scars on my back did not heal well and they had become thick and scaly so the doctor cut out the scar tissue so we could start again.  He also gave me some cream and a product called Mepiform to try to minimize scarring going forward.

But the real story here is about my breasts. 

WOW! 

I thought the original reconstruction was fine, despite some unevenness and some gaps where the transplanted fat had been reabsorbed. But when I saw them after the revision, I was blown away. 

Teri Hatcher said it best when she guest starred on Seinfeld: 

They're real and they're spectacular.

All of the fat that was sucked out of thighs was injected into my breasts.  My original breasts were kinda flat on the top and then droopy and round on the bottom.  But my new breasts have full volume everywhere.  They are round, gently sloping and completely even.   

It will take a few weeks to discern the final results of all this because I am still very swollen. 

But so far, I'm delighted.