Wednesday, January 1, 2014

Went Under the Knife...Voluntarily

This isn't exactly something that I would say was on my bucket list but it was something that I thought about for a very long time before actually going forward with the decision. On October 21, 2011, only a month after moving to Colombia, I got breast implants. I thought about having the surgery years earlier and decided not to have it. I wasn't one hundred percent sure that I wanted it and I was scared about being put under with anesthesia. But in 2011 I started doing my research once again, met with the doctor in March and he explained everything to me. This doctor is very well known and he operated on two of my cousins so I felt very comfortable going to him. I had seen his work and heard his success stories. Although, everyone's body is unique and can react differently to the anesthesia. My biggest fear was not waking up from the surgery, I wasn't really scared about any pain because I figured medication could take care of that. But thankfully, the day before I got my blood work done and I was cleared for surgery.

I remember my cousin told me that the day of the surgery I had to be very calm because if the doctors saw that I was nervous then they wouldn't operate. My surgery was scheduled for 6:00am and I went into the clinic at 5:15am with my cousin and I was listening to Alicia Keys on my iPod. I remember changing, answering some questions for a nurse, laying on the hospital bed, saying hi to the doctor and then being rolled to the ER. I only remember seeing a bright light and that was it. I was out for what seemed hours.  But in reality it was only about two.

I woke up flat on my back and in a lot of pain. Unfortunately for me, they had laid me down on the bed upside down, so they couldn't elevate my back. I was in so much pain from the weight on my chest that the nurse gave me morphine. I had no idea that was what she had given me until my cousin who works at clinic told me. This apparently was the cause of my nausea that afternoon. I couldn't keep anything down for the rest of the day. I just drank liquid jello and took my medicine. The next day I woke up very hungry and feeling perfectly fine. To be honest the worst day of the recovery period was the first but I think it was only because of the morphine. The rest of the time I felt fine, stomach wise.

What was uncomfortable about the whole thing was that for the next week I had to sleep sitting up completely. I had about 4 pillows behind my back and a couple on my sides so that I could sleep. But it was so difficult. I luckily had my travel neck pillow, which was a life saver. That definitely made it a little easier to sleep. I basically just watched movies all night, I slept at most maybe 4 hours each night. I remember one night it was 6am and I hadn't slept all. The bed felt so hard and I just hated being in the same position and not being able to move around. At that moment I stood up and walked to the living room and sat on the couch with my back up against the arm rest and put my feet up. The couch felt so nice and somehow I passed out right there. My aunt woke up and was surprised not to see me in my room, then she found me on the couch still asleep and she put a blanket over me.

After one week of sleeping upright I gave up. The reason I couldn't sleep on my back was because my body wasn't used to the extra weight and I didn't have enough arm strength to pick myself up, even rolling over hurt a little. But after a week I figured my body had grown used to the weight. I tried laying down and I was able to do it. My problem then was getting up, I still didn't have the arm strength. So every night before I laid down I had to make sure that I was not going to be getting up. If I had to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night, tough luck. When my aunt falls asleep, she really passes out and there is no way my faint calls were going to wake her up. And whenever I woke up before her in the morning I just had to wait there for her. She came in every morning just to help me get up. I remember even three weeks after the operation I still needed some help getting up. I went on a trip with my cousins and had to ask them to help me get up every morning. Aside from that I was pretty self-sufficient. The first couple of days I needed help getting dressed and combing my hair but that was about it. My aunt has cared for a couple of people after surgeries and she said that I was a pretty good patient and that I had taken the surgery really well.

But anyway, that all passed and I was very happy with the results of my surgery. Of course it took time to know what the final result would be because of the swelling. It wasn't until late January that the swelling completely went down. I was a little concerned at first because my boobs were a little too big for my liking. But then once the swelling went down I started to miss them, haha. But in the end I was very happy and thankful for how everything turned out. In terms of stitching and scarring, I was very nervous the day the doctor was going to remove the stitches, but it took a total of 3 minutes. My aunt and I had been so scared to remove the bandages for fear of the stitches coming out but he pulled those bandages off like a bandaid, literally, just pulled right off, never hesitating. Then he cut and tugged at the stitches and I didn't feel a thing! And as for the scar, it's just a small line that you can barely see. I never see it and honestly forget that it is there sometimes.

I remember wanting to post something about my surgery and I hesitated so much because to me it seems that there is a stigma with plastic surgery in the U.S., or at least where I live. Not many people talk about it and it is almost frowned upon. In Colombia plastic surgery is very popular, everyone has either been through it themselves or knows at least 2-3 people who have had some form of plastic surgery. Everyone talks about it, they share their stories, recommend doctors, etc.

I do not have a problem telling someone that I had plastic surgery or sharing my story. In fact, maybe if more people talked about it then it wouldn't be that big of a deal anymore. Everyone does with their body what they wish and it is not up to any of us to judge them. Why did I do it? Because I wanted to. I don't have a deep or lengthy explanation for it. I wanted them for myself and, frankly, I was tired of wearing padded bras.

That's it. I love them and it was the best decision I could have made.

No comments:

Post a Comment