A wonderful reader recently asked me if I had received my breast augmentation and how it went. It was fine. I did take a little longer to recover than I had hoped, but I’m feeling great now. I decided that perhaps I should go ahead and share what I wrote right after my surgery. So here it is.
Ouch! Post augmentation-mammoplasty, it feels like the parade from Dr. Seuss’s Mulberry Street is taking-five on my chest. Some patients have analogized it to an elephant taking up residence on your breasts.
I’ve already explained in previous posts why I chose to forgo the padded bras for the built-in padding. If you want to know why I chose to do it or how I made my decision, feel free to check those posts out. I have two goals here: (1) to describe how it went; and (2) to tell you how on earth this relates to my Christian marriage (and it’s not the answer you might expect).
How it went. My last recall before “going under” was the friendly anesthesiologist chatting it up with my husband about mutual knee injuries they had experienced and their subsequent surgical fixes. Gee thanks, Honey! He (the husband, of course) did manage a peck on my lips and an “I love you” before they wheeled me out. I don’t even remember crossing the threshold. The anesthesiologist had administered a sweet-dreams drug in my IV minutes before.
I woke up less than three hours later. Pain was fine then; I was still in a thick London fog. But I was beyond groggy, to downright Dwarf Sleepy. Still, my whole time in the hospital was just over six hours.
We headed home with a barf bag (anesthesia can cause nausea and vomiting), my post-surgical instructions, and the old bra I had purchased in the girls’ department now begging to be burned.
A day later, and I’m sticking on the pain medication, muscle relaxers, and antibiotics. It will be about a week before I feel like getting around much and up to four weeks before I see the results. For now, the pain is more discomfort than anything else. I am nervous about my doc removing the ace bandage binding my breasts when I go in for post-op this afternoon. Who knows what that will look like?
My marriage.I happened to have chosen a man who finds it hard at times to put two appreciative words together to compliment a long-prepared meal or who stumbles over words in telling me that I look pretty in a particular outfit. He’s not great at that small stuff.
But he is terrific in a crisis. When the chips are down, and the breasts are up, he reminds me why I love him. Even as I pound on the keyboard for this blog, he walked in and placed a bowl of soup on my night table. He has supported me as I walked, tracked down nurses, gotten me food and drink, and lifted things as needed. Not to mention that, as of this particular moment, my children are still alive!
Mind you, he doesn’t anticipate what I need. Most guys aren’t attuned like that. I have to ask: “Honey, will you…?” “I could use some help with…” “Thanks for taking care of…” Give most men a specific problem that needs fixing, and they’re there. Direct requests are best.
Maybe my husband’s somewhat motivated to help me out because he’s eager to see the final result. He’s never asked me to enhance any part of my body, but he’s a guy. Guys like breasts.
And my new set will definitely be bigger than the original model. Perhaps he’s looking at it as shining up this new baby before he takes it for a spin. Who knows?
Meanwhile, my breasts are painful because they are full. But my heart is joyful because it is fuller.
So how do you feel about plastic surgery? Have you had any? Is there a procedure you have considered? If you have or want to have surgery, what are your reasons for doing so?
Also, how have you taken care of your spouse after a surgery, injury, or procedure? Or how has your spouse taken care of you? How does this kind of attention make you feel about your relationship?