expand your chest and your mind will follow

WArning: this post contains graphic descriptions; idiotic, anna nicole type confessions; and disses of moms and apple pies.

Yes, I had my 2nd chemo, and so far the nausea is nicely under control. I discovered that I had suffered some form of chemo brain last time, because instead of taking 3 of my anti nausea meds per day as instructed, I took ONE.

D'OH!!!!

like, uh, no wonder I was walking around seasick. I blame it all on my christian scientist upbringing, and resultant unshakeable med-phobia. THEY'RE poisoning me!!! (Ah. I should tell you all sometime about my mother, who was taken to the hospital in an ambulance b/c she was turning blue, and turned right around as soon as they looked the other way and signed herself out. Long story, but one of the highlights is that she confided to my brother that the hospital was a scam, and at night they turned off the lights and turned it into a disco. Oddly, those two evils must have been related in her mind....)

OR, maybe my chest has something to do with my lack of, um, brain power?

So...I'm not here today to speak to you about chemo, (incidently, YES, I'm tired.) nor am I here to dis my mother. I am here to give you a much needed EXPANDER update!!!

yes, for those of you who wonder, I had bilateral mastectomy with simultaneous reconstruction, which means that after they lop off your boobs, they put in two flat devices which, over the course of several filling-sessions, become rock hard, hockey puck shaped mounds in the area which used to contain fleshly glandular objects. You become, against all belief, a real life barbie doll (although I kept 'em small, deliberately. I mean, I love Pam Anderson as much as anyone, but it would REALLY hurt to inflate to that size. Also, I just don't have that much extra flesh).

The idea behind expanders (as if I have to spell this out) is to EXPAND the skin so that you can later put implants in. I mean, after a mastectomy, the whole thing is pretty much flat, and you don't have much skin there to work with. So they gotta STRETCH it. This is accomplished by going in every week or so and having them put in 50 ccs of saline.

After the saline fills, I'd be in some serious pain for about 24 hours, then it'd stop. It felt something like you'd expect, something like the incredible hulk must have felt when in the process of busting out of his clothing and turning green. Some weird kind of torture...yeah, we're gonna EXPAND you....
it wasn't sexy.

Anyway, all that's over. I also battled with a seroma for a while, which is fluid build up that isn't serious, and isn't painful, but is annoying as hell. slosh slosh. But that passed too.

Now, I don't see the plastic surgeon until after chemo is over, then I get my implants, AND (get this) I get tattoo on nipples. Heh.

The odd thing is, none of this seems to bug me at all. Should it? In fact, my plan is to be almost completely artificial by the time I'm 60. Perhaps I'll even consider uploading my mind into a computer. If my current med-instruction following ability is any indication, I won't need much disc space...


oops, forgot to dis apple pie. Well, dammit. Pie sux. There.