big deal

I never realized what a big deal boobs are.

Especially my boobs.

Especially to other people.

I went into this thinking I knew what I was going to do - scorched earth policy, no child left behind, don't let the bra strap hit you on the way out - double mastectomy, no reconstruction.

But damn - literally everyone has an opinion on this, and all of the second guessing has been the worst part of this experience so far.

It started with the first doctor. I said I wanted a DX, he said it was his job to make me consider all of my options. So I cried that day, because I hate decisions, and I thought I had already made one.

But then I doubled down - I wanted this nightmare to be over, so when I met with the surgeon I said I wanted a DX. She told me she'd support that, but that I was a good candidate for a lumpectomy, and I should at least think about it. So I went home and cried some more. 

Then new results came in - I am indeed, not a great candidate for a lumpectomy, cancer in the right side and cancer literally sitting there waiting to happen in the left. So now the decision was made for me - DX. But no.

Technically, I could wait and not do the left side until I absolutely had to. (Who would do this?) So I told them I'm not waiting and I want them both gone.

And then it started all over again. . . "What type of reconstruction do you want?"

"I don't know if I want any. I just want everything gone."

They insisted that a meeting with plastics wouldn't hurt. But it did. It was more weeks of ruminating and researching and wondering why anybody cared if I had boobs at all. They've always been too big, they're always been in the way and now they are trying to murder me. They lose all sensation after surgery, they require at least one more trip to the OR, at least 4 additional weeks of recovery after that, and put off my heart surgery for months - new boobs are just dangerous decorations for me.

And yet . . . there was a trip to plastics. The entire scenario was traumatizing - the photos, the measuring,  but hey - props to my boyfriend who was able to stay chill while two dudes with European accents fondled my chest and drew pictures of how good new boobs would be.

Silicone implants give you an increased cancer risk - nope.

"Goldilocks" reconstruction has your spare skin rolled into the equivalent of an 89 cent bean burrito - and looks about as good. Also nope.

Grafting takes your own tissue, but 50% of the time it needs to be evened out with a third or even fourth surgery. Nope, nope, nope.

DIEP flap reconstruction uses your own tissue and connects vessels, nerves and skin, and has the added bonus of that tummy tuck I’ve wanted since c-section number three, but the additional surgery takes 8-12 hours, includes abdominal and chest wall surgery, and has an 8-week recovery period. This option doesn't bode well for my heart situation, and I still wont be able to feel these boobs either - I'll just look better in shirts. I meannnnn - free tummy tuck . . . but also nope.

Although I was assured that any choice I make will be the right one, at no point did anyone offer "flat" as a real option - I had to ask about it. At no point did anyone say "I can see how you'd want that." It was a lot of "think about it"s, "sleep on it"s, and "let us know"s.  Needless to say, I didn't make it home before the tears started this time. I like my boobs - they've been good to me, but now they're a hassle, we're in a toxic relationship and they've gotta go. It's like everybody is trying to set me up with a new boyfriend while I'm still dating an abusive soon-to-be-ex.

Well, not everybody was doing that. There was a lone voice of reason - and no shocker here - it wasn't me.

No, the singular voice of unwavering, unbiased support came from the guy who dried my tears while feeding me coconut cake - the guy who gave me forehead kisses and said, "Don't make this hard for everyone by trying to make it easier for everyone. Let us take care of you. Let me love you. Your joy and your spark make you beautiful, so that's what you'll always be to me."

Yeah, I know - he's basically perfect.