Tomorrow I head into another surgery, this one minor, to rebuild my nipples. It's an odd concept to begin with; the thought that plastic surgeons can even do such a thing.
They call it origami, yes, like the paper origami animals you learned to make as a kid, though this time we're not making swans. I'm not really sure how they ever came up with this concept, but it's far better than earlier alternatives, which I won't even go into here, because it's just too crazy to even think about. And probably most women just avoided it.
Today's methodology is fascinating. Somehow, Dr. Askren will cut my skin, do some tucking and manipulating -- and fashion a nipple. It's an art (his own words) and I'll bet it is.
It requires only a local anesthetic (I could drive myself home, the nurse said, but she'd rather I bring someone). What I can't imagine is being awake and aware during the process. What if I have an itch? What if I move? Will the good doctor be talking to me as he performs this intricate procedure? Will there be a mirror so I can see what's going on? Do I really want to see? While I'm fascinated that they can even perform such a feat, I'm not sure how I'll feel while it's going on.
Dr. Askren prepped me for what part I'd be involved in. When I enter the surgery center, they'll give me two round tabs (like the tabs they use for an EKG) to place where I think my nipples should go. Then, he said, he'll come in and place them where he thinks they should go. Guess who wins?
I'm totally confident he knows what he's doing. After all, it is an art and he's a perfectionist. So I'll leave it in his trusty hands.
I'll let you know how it goes. Hopefully, the doctor didn't overindulge this holiday weekend and I won't end up lopsided!
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