Plastic Surgeon

Ahhh, sweet, sweet silence. I finally got the kids to bed and opened an expensive bottle of wine to have with my bowl of nachos. Don’t judge me.  I already drank all the cheap wine in the house and haven’t made it to the store. I’ve been asked medical questions quite frequently lately and I’ve been tempted to lie about how much alcohol I drink. Two weeks ago I was able to answer honestly that I have maybe 1-3 drinks a week. Today I had to clarify that while I don’t typically drink a lot I’ve been drinking a lot more recently. I don’t think they appreciate my joke.


Today was the appointment with the plastic surgeon. I’ve never been in a plastic surgeon’s office but I was picturing a fancy waiting room with waterfalls and soft lighting and well cared for women reading Vogue while waiting for their Botox shots.  This morning Jeffrey was trying to decide between wearing his Ironman or Batman t-shirt but since he couldn’t decide which one would make him look most sophisticated he ended up wearing his nicest button-down plaid shirt. I went with the F-you and your pretentious office I have cancer outfit of ripped jeans and flip flops. I have to say that the office was a disappointment. I mean, it was a nice office overall but didn’t give me that Dr. 90210 feeling I was expecting. It was decorated in earth tones with big heavy furniture and floor to ceiling windows overlooking surprisingly ordinary landscaping. There were big glass displays holding cosmetics with an advertisement that reads “Everyone seeks perfection”. There was a large full length mirror propped in one corner but with a visible trash can on the opposite wall. The patients in the waiting room all appeared to be normal people and there was even a woman in hijab. I couldn’t help but think maybe she had breast cancer too. I can’t imagine she was there out of vanity.

The only high maintenance looking people in the office were the office staff with their flattened hair, make-up and obviously “done” boobs.  Even though I was warned  by a friend that this doctor was a player, he came in wearing scrubs instead of a $5,000 suit and had visible gray hair. He mentioned his twin baby boys so that must be it. Babies will do that to you every time. I must have the look about me too. During the breast exam he said, “you breastfed your kids” as a statement rather than a question. He said that the same thing happened to his wife’s breasts. Which, I’m sure she must be thrilled about him discussing in the office. He was not condescending in this matter but just very factual. He said I have very normal “girls”. Typing it out it does make it sound like he was an ass but he really wasn’t. He was sweet and caring about our situation.


I explained to him that I may not be having a mastectomy but that I wanted to have the consultation done in case we do decide to go that route. That way we have one less appointment to squeeze in before surgery. He did bring up the option of just a single mastectomy with reconstruction on the left side. He said it’s between me and Dr. Lilly and he’s just there to make it all look nice in the end. He said that with a right side reconstruction he would do a lift on the left side so that I don’t end up with one 18 year old breast and one 31 year old breast. But, he said it in the nicest possible way so it was more comical than offensive. He gave me his cell phone number so that I can text him updates to my pathology and genetic testing results.


More to come in the next post about the pathology results from my biopsy.


Posted on July 28, 2011, in Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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