Monday, May 30, 2011

Up next? Nipple origami

   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!

Friday, May 27, 2011

Capping off graduation

   A big sigh of relief.
   My daughter graduated college in mid-May back East. The trip required the lengthy flight, followed by swelling of my arm and hand, packing up 19 cartons and shipping them back to Cali by mail, loading up the car with the essential items (snowboard, saddle, boots, electric guitar & amp) and shipping it via auto trailer. (I'd pay the price upon return home with extra visits to the lymphedema therapist.)
   And then finally, graduation.
   My daughter, who has always had a need to be different, decided she'd decorate her cap for the outdoor graduation on the campus front lawn. To my surprise, when we went to Michaels to get the necessary supplies, she immediately gravitated toward pink rhinestones and a pink glittery breast cancer ribbon. Nothing else even occurred to her.
   I couldn't have been prouder. I have to admit I was a little nervous about whether the school actually would allow the decorating of caps, but she didn't care. "Mom, I can't imagine they wouldn't let me walk just because I put this on my cap. After all, I'm doing this for my Mom!"
   And sure enough, she walked, graduating summa cum laude (much to our surprise and hers!), and standing out amongst the sea of graduates in a glittery cap and gown.


Wow! A mom who has survived breast cancer couldn't be more proud.