Two Down, Hopefully Many More to Come

Today is the second anniversary of my diagnosis.  Reading my entry from last year, I am reminded of what a difference a day makes (or in this case, 364 days).

This time last year, I had just had the first of many surgeries/procedures to reconstruct my breasts.  My friend Dave, who returned from his tour of duty in Samoa with the Peace Corps, was taking care of me after my surgery; I was shouting the praises of Percoset; and my friends threw me a very lavish and loving surprise party in my condo.  That was a very different place for me compared to where I was the day I was diagnosed.

Similarly, where I’m at today compared to a year ago is equally different.  I have a new home in a new city, I’m at a new job with a practice area and in a jurisdiction I’ve never done/practiced in before, I’m living with a roommate (my 1st non-partner roommate since 2001), I’m hanging out with a totally different group of friends, and my breast reconstruction is complete.  My life couldn’t be on a more different path than a year ago.

I’ve spent the last two years of my life in transition and in “survival/fight mode.”  As a result, I’ve learned to be present in my world, live life in the moment, and be unapologetic about stopping to smell the roses.  Now that my cancer and reconstruction battles have concluded for now, I am fearful that I will revert back to my old way of life — spending too much time with the minutia of each day, failing to take stock of my world on a regular basis,  and ultimately allowing inertia to take control.  I’m definitely a different person now than I was two years ago and I accept that I will be a different person in another two years.  I just hope that I will continue to grow and learn from my experiences and not forget the hard path I have just traveled.

This evening, I celebrated my anniversary by having drinks with a bunch of friends at the 500 Club in the Mission.  Shortly after my arrival, this started playing in the bar: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sogKUx_q7ig.  My friends sing this song instead of “Happy Birthday” because one of our girlfriends hates the “Happy Birthday” song and requested we sing her an alternative on her birthday (and the substitution has stuck for every birthday after hers).  I know I’ve listed this as a soundtrack for an earlier blog post, but it is appropriate here because today February 5th is not only the anniversary of my diagnosis, it is also my rebirthday.

That’s a Wrap

Dr. Paige and his nurse tattooed my areolae this morning.  I am finally done with my breast reconstruction and I feel like I’m in a state of shock.

The tattooing process is fascinating.  Dr. Paige consulted with me on areola size and placement, drawing on me with a blue pen and getting my feedback.  Although the pen marks clearly depicted where the areolae would be placed, it was very hard for me to envision the pen marks as areolae.  Then Dr. Paige’s nurse worked with me to mix colors for the tattooing.  Dr. Paige suggested we go with more brown tones than pink tones, given my complexion, and he noted that the tattoo color will fade with time, suggesting I keep that in mind when choosing a color.  Again, it was hard for me to envision the ink colors mixed by the nurse as areolae.  It felt more like arts and crafts, not breast reconstruction.

Dr. Paige gave me some local Lidocaine to numb the areas where the areolae would be tattooed, and I was pleased to find that it hurt when Dr. Page injected the Lidocaine in some of the areas — another affirmation that I am regaining sensation along my mastectomy scars.  The tattooing took no more than an hour total, with very little discomfort on my end.  It is hard to tell what the final color of my areolae will be because residual bleeding from the tattooing makes the area look darker than the ink color we chose, but I can tell immediately that my breasts are different.  Finally, I have all breast parts — not just the mound of a breast or a nipple without an areola.

I have been in shock for most of today, realizing that my two-year journey of battling Karla and rebuilding my breasts had come to an end for now.  It’s weird being “complete” after two years of being in a constant state of change and transition.  I suspect I will have much more to write about on this subject, as I have not had much time to process what has just happened.  It will be weird to define who I am now that I am no longer rebuilding my body.  Perhaps it’s time to start rebuilding my spirit and redefining my soul.  I suspect that process will be just as exciting as this journey has been reconstructing my breasts.

I’ve been listening to the “Miseducation of Lauryn Hill” recently, as I’m going through old CDs and that CD is clearly a gem.  I leave you with this for today’s soundtrack:  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qGUsF-Whb1g.

Leaving the Future for the Past

This morning, on my last day on the O`ahu I went to see Lan Vo, a world-renowned psychic.  Don’t judge me yet – I was a skeptic too.  Back in 2001 when I moved to O`ahu to clerk for the Hawai`i Supreme Court after law school, I went to see Lan at the suggestion of the other clerks in my office who had gone to her and swore by her psychic “powers.”  Though a natural skeptic, I am also a true believer in the philosophy of “don’t knock it until you try it,” so I went to see Lan.  She absolutely freaked me out that visit.  The first thing she said to me when she came into the room was, “You’re an attorney from Seattle but you’re not here for very long, why is that?”  Note that Lan took no information from me when I made the appointment other than my first name.  There’s no way she could have known anything about me before my consultation with her.  During my visit, Lan disclosed a lot of accurate information about my and my family’s past and also shared with me some interesting tidbits about my future.  But one thing she said to me that I have not been able to understand was about my weight.  At the time, I was worried about having gained weight from my birth control prescription, so I switched brands to a lower dosage of hormones.  Lan identified this and specifically told me, “You’re worried about your weight.  Don’t worry.  You’re going to lose a lot of weight, but you’ll be okay.”  I never understood the last part of her words to me – but you’ll be okay.  What the hell did that mean?  Only recently, after discussing my visit with Lan with a girlfriend last month as we discussed the cooky world of psychics did I put those words into context.  I lost approximately 50 pounds after chemo.  Perhaps I’m inappropriately reading into Lan’s words , but I don’t care.  Those words made sense for the first time in almost a decade since my visit with Lan, and it freaked the shit out of me.

So on my last day on O`ahu, I went back to Lan for another reading.  Lan is booked several months in advance for private appointments and I did not make a private appointment, so I had to sign up on the wait list this morning, hoping for someone to cancel or miss his/her appointment.  My youngest sister, Camille, and I went to Lan’s early this morning to get on the wait list first, which we did, but after a couple hours, I realized that the people who had signed up for appointments that day were actually showing up, and my flight was scheduled to leave at 1:40 that afternoon.  I turned to Cami and told her that we should leave our phone number with the receptionist and go home.  I figured that I would rather spend my remaining hours with Dad than wait for a psychic to fit me into her busy schedule. 

After heading back to my family’s house, we were able to coax my Dad out for an early lunch at Zippy’s (a local Denny’s-like chain) before I needed to get to the airport.  That lunch was one of the best lunches I’ve had with my Dad.  Cyndi, Camille, and Cierra joined us, and Dad told us stories that we had not heard before.  This is a rare occurrence, as all of us have heard Dad’s stories many times over.  It was awesome to hear a second story about how my uncle Jaime saved my Dad’s life because Dad didn’t know how to swim as a child; to hear that my paternal grandfather was not only an Escrima master, but that he taught Escrima to young men on the plantation; and also to hear how my Mom was so worried about miscarrying me while pregnant (she had a traumatic miscarriage right before I was conceived), that my Dad often found her gardening while laying on her side.

I may not have had a chance to hear Lan tell me about my future, but I think my day was way more valuable listening to my Dad tell us about our past.

For today’s soundtrack I leave you with this from Israel Kamakawivioole’s Facing the Future:  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0ltAGuuru7Q.

An Island Christmas

I’m presently in Honolulu for Christmas.  It is great being able to spend time with my Dad, Stepmom, three sisters, and niece.  I spent the first couple days right before Christmas finishing up some last-minute Christmas shopping and acclimating to the 80+ degree weather.  Since it has been a particularly cold winter thus far in the Bay Area, the warm weather is definitely a welcome change.

Appropriately, I spent a couple days at the beach – the first time on any beach on my home island since my breast reconstruction.  To my surprise, I worried a ton about whether my scars showed through the bandeau top of my swimsuit, which I bought specifically so that my scars would not show.  Such a concern is not entirely frivolous or vain, as the last thing I need is for my scars to get any darker because of sun exposure, but I do feel like I was a bit more conscious of my scars than I needed to be.  I was also self-conscious about people knowing that my boobs are fake.  Specifically when I laid on my back to tan, I was hyper aware that my boobs stayed in place, rather than fall to the sides into my armpits like normal boobs, and I kept wondering if the people around me noticed.  It’s such a weird thing to be aware of, but I do have these inhibitions often, worrying about being judged by people because my boobs are fake.  Sometimes I get the urge to volunteer my experience to obvious critics to justify why I have fake boobs.  After all that I’ve been through, it is so weird to be worried about dumb shit.  I mean, who cares if I have fake boobs, right?

In addition to Christmas shopping, eating out at my favorite restaurants, and spending time with my family, I also had the opportunity to go up to Pu`owaina (aka Punchbowl) to visit my Mom’s grave.  Those who have read my blog for a while know that this is an annual stop for me when I’m home for Christmas, and that visiting my Mom’s grave has special significance for me, given that she died of breast cancer when I was three years old.  I find myself able to discuss things at her grave that I have a hard time addressing with myself (or even with my therapist).  Somehow I feel like my Mom – wherever she is – “gets it” and understands what I’m going through.  I have the same sense of emotional honesty when I talk to a fellow survivor. 

This year’s trip to Mom’s grave was not as eventful as last year’s trip, but it still felt good to speak openly and honestly about everything going on in my life – including a significant career change, moving to a whole new city, love conquests over the year, and of course, my fears and inhibitions about my breast reconstruction and continued cancer risks.  I specifically addressed my fears about the cancer risks potentially shared by my older sister, Cyndi, and her daughter (my niece), Cierra.  There is a good chance that we share the same genes, and unfortunately, my genes include a couple bad ones when it comes to breast and ovarian cancer.  Cyndi promised me later that day that she’s having the BRCA 1 and 2 test done soon, which makes me feel very awkward for reasons I’ll explain in a future blog post.

Although I was raised Catholic, for various reasons, I am no longer a practicing Catholic.  But as I sat there staring at my Mom’s headstone, I ended my visit with her the same way I have ended every other visit  to her grave – saying three “Our Father”s, three “Hail Mary”s, and one “Glory Be.”  For as long as I can remember, when visiting my Mom’s grave with my Dad, we would say these prayers — he would start each prayer and I would finish it.  And when I was able to drive myself to her grave to visit her, I’d still say the prayers on my own.  Today at Mom’s grave I said all the prayers again, hoping I wouldn’t forget the words.  I’m not sure why I said the prayers.  Perhaps it’s just because of pure ritual.  Perhaps it’s because I respect that my Mom subscribed to that doctrine.  Or perhaps I fear that the Catholics have got it right and my Mom’s spirit will be stuck in the waiting room of purgatory until enough prayers are said for her.  Whatever the case, I smiled while saying the prayers, having flashbacks to my Catholic upbringing while iterating each line. 

Unlike last year’s rainy visit to Mom’s grave, this year the sun shone the whole time I sat on the grassy hill in which my Mom is buried.  The warmth of the sun from above and emanating from the grass that had absorbed the sun’s rays made me feel like I was being enveloped in a big hug.

For today’s soundtrack, I leave you with an island favorite this time of year: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jAMwsBPfRIc.

Finish Line in Sight

Forgive the hiatus.  I moved to San Francisco two weeks ago and was in crazy packing mode the month before my move over Thanksgiving weekend.  There’s obviously lots to report about my move, my new job, my new apartment and roommate, and the new city I now call “home,” but for now I’ll to limit this entry to the progress on my reconstruction, as I am nearing the end of this process.

My nipples have healed quite nicely.  I’m sad I didn’t have time to have my friend Miguel come over  to take one last set of pictures before my move.  Miguel has documented this whole process on film, and unfortunately the last set of photos were taken right after Dr. Paige installed my nipples.  As someone who sees my body everyday, it’s easy for me to downplay how much my body has changed between then and now, but my nipples have shrunk down significantly and look like very real.

Right before my move, I got a final massage from my amazing massage therapist in Seattle — Matthew Gaylord at Evergreen Chiropractic in Capitol Hill.  In prior massages after my nipple reconstruction surgery, I’ve been hyper sensitive about the amount of pressure Matthew exerts on me when he works on my back — specifically the amount of pressure on my nipples as I lay on my stomach.  However, I had no fear or anxiety about my nipples during this final massage from Matthew.  I felt comfortable knowing that my new nipples were going to be just fine, no matter how hard Matthew pushed down on my back.  Though weird and quirky, I view this as a milestone.

My areolae tattooing is presently scheduled for January 26th.  I am flying back up to Seattle to have Dr. Paige do the tattooing.  As I may have mentioned in a prior blog post, Dr. Paige’s nurses informed me that I could go to a “certified” tattoo parlor to have my areolae tattooed (for cost and convenience), but there’s no question in my mind that Dr. Paige is the only person I want to complete this final step.  My boobs were his vision from the beginning, and I want him to finish it.

I’m already starting to worry about what I’ll blog about when the tattooing is done.  It’s not like I don’t have other stuff going on in my world that is blog-worthy, but my experiences won’t necessarily be an “Adventure with Cancer” — at least I sure hope they won’t be.

For today’s soundtrack, I leave you with something new I’ve been grooving to: http://www.sade.com/ (click on play).  Her new album comes out in February 2010, and I’ve been listening to the title track a lot.

More Criticisms RE: Insurance

So the U.S. Preventative Services Task Force, a panel of “experts” who advise doctors on medical care, recently released recommendations that overhaul the current preventative tracking methodology for breast cancer.  This task force recommends that women under the age of 50 need not be subjected to automatic, routine mammograms.  The task force also notes that women between the ages of 50 and 74 can be tested every other year instead of annually.  Notably, this task force indicates that breast self examinations and breast examinations done by gynecologists during annual exams do no good.

I know I’m anecdotal evidence that probably did not make it onto the task force’s radar before they made their recommendations and observations, but I know in my heart of hearts that the only reason I am still here today is because I had my annual exam and Dr. Rothblatt two years ago, and he found that lump in my breast that he thought was worrisome enough to send me to have an ultrasound and digital mammogram done immediately.  For the task force to implicate that breast examinations done by gynecologists during annual exams have no good spits in the face of my survival and triumph over Karla, and it just straight up pisses me off.

What’s the disadvantage of being screened earlier?  Additional cost to insurance companies?  I can’t think of any other disad and if you do, I encourage you to post a response to my blog so that I can be better educated and continue a dialogue on this subject.  However, until I hear otherwise, the recent observations and recommendations by this task force worry me because they appear to be an “out” for insurance companies to deny coverage for early screening.  I don’t want to think about how many women would be dead right now if they followed the task force’s “recommendations.”  Fuckers better explain themselves better.  Even one life saved is worth it, and I suspect there have been many more than one life saved by screening starting at age 40 instead of 50.

On a lighter note, I saw Dr. Otero for my one year follow-up after concluding chemo last year.  I appear to be okay and continuing on the path of a positive prognosis, however Dr. Otero did recommend that I have an MRI every 3 years to check my implants and also to check any residual breast tissue for changes.  I can’t wait to find out whether insurance picks up the tab for the MRIs without question.  And yes, I’m being sarcastic.

Dr. Otero also reiterated what I learned the last time I met with him approximately 6 months ago, which is that I need to be hyper aware of and observant of my body.  Any weird changes should be reported to my doctor as soon as possible.  I’m freaked out that there’s really nothing I can do except “be in touch with my body.”  I’m not sure I know what the hell that means, though I’m grateful that I’m ignorant.  I suspect that I’ll know when something is wrong, and I hope I never get that feeling.   

All this talk about insurance crap and the pressures of my upcoming move have motivated this as the choice for today’s soundtrack: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xtrEN-YKLBM.

Switchin’ -N- Bitchin’

I just returned from a “switch-n-bitch” — a ritual with my girlfriends where we clean out our closets and bring our unwanted clothes, accessories, shoes, jewelry, and unopened bath products to someone’s house to exchange stuff over a few bottles of wine and appetizers.  Whatever’s left over we donate to Dress for Success Seattle and Goodwill.  When sending out the email invitation for today’s event, I titled it the “Switch-N-Bitch to End All Switch-N-Bitches,” as I have gone into super purge mode in preparation for my move to the Bay Area and decided to get rid of 3/4 of my closet.  I’m an absolute clothes whore (many of my items still had tags on them), so the ladies attending tonight’s event all left with more stuff than they brought to the party.  I, on the other hand, took only a few items home.  Mission accomplished.

While trying on a few items at the switch-n-bitch, I realized that I have to be more aware of the fact that my nipples are constantly “on.”  I have gone so long without wearing a bra, that I don’t think about putting one on when I get dressed in the morning.  I didn’t have one on today.  So when I tried on a few form-fitting tops today, it was funny how surprised I was by the sight of my nipples piercing through the fabric.  Hopefully I will get used to them soon.

Although I have nipples, my breasts still do not look 100% ”normal.”  I have taken for granted that an areola is an integral part of a breast.  Right now, I have everything but areolae, and my boobs do look incomplete.  I cannot wait for the tattooing process to begin.  I even found a photograph of me in Cancun, Mexico flashing my boobs to a tour bus from my hotel room balcony so that Dr. Paige will be able to mix the tattoo dyes appropriately to match what my areolae looked like before.  Thank God for crazy shenanigans while on spring break caught on film.

If I’m near a computer or radio on Sunday morning, I listen to Johnny Horn’s “Preachin’ the Blues” show on KEXP.  I find rhythm & blues grooves my soul the most out of any genre of music, so I absolutely adore Johnny Horn’s show.  Today this one grabbed me by the horns so strongly that I had to find it and listen to it again several times today (the first song of two on this clip by Big Maybelle):   http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SzWFhKcLAYo.  Too good.  Just too good.

Insurance Fears

I’ve personally avoided engaging in the health care debate too much because it is overwhelming to process.  If anyone should be well-informed about the debate, it’s me, but I am still in survival mode –  perhaps more accurately “get-through-my reconstruction-in-one-piece mode.”  And I don’t have the mental or emotional bandwith to take on the health care debate with any level of academic rigor.  But as I plan my future treatment to ensure Karla doesn’t return and my reconstructed breasts are well cared for, I realize that I do not know the true implications for my future treatment when my COBRA coverage ends and I am forced to get on another health care plan.

On November 1st, my old firm switched health care plans from UnitedHealthcare to Group Health.  That means that if I wanted to continue with COBRA benefits, I would need to switch plans with the firm.  The problem is, continuing treatment with my providers through the Group Health plan (and being covered the same way UnitedHealthcare covered me ) would be extremely difficult, if not impossible.  Thankfully, I was able to get insurance that will allow me to continue treating with my doctors with less hassle than through Group Health.  However, it will be interesting to see how my new insurance bills for my continued treatment.  I’ll find out soon enough whether my new insurance will deny coverage for my treatment because it’s for a “pre-existing condition.”  I believe Washington state has laws that prevent insurance companies from denying coverage when the patient has had continuous coverage, but I’m unsure what the story is in California.  I think it’s time I call the Insurance Commissioner down there to get the skinny.  Wow.  Add that to my humungo “To Do List” of things I must complete for my upcoming move. 

Shit, I have so much crap to do between now and my planned move date (I hope to be on the road the day after Thanksgiving).  I’m dealing with the stress by procrastinating, which is easy to do when I return home from work totally mentally exhausted.  I shared with my therapist last week that I don’t think I’ve had the ability to process what’s going on because everything is happening so fast.  I fear that my failure to digest and process will continue up until it’s time for me to go and by then it will be too late — I will be in the Bay Area dealing with a whole slew of new crap to deal with.  And by then, my therapist won’t be available to help me sort through the crap.

On a lighter note, my nipples are healing quite nicely and should be totally healed up with all stitches dissolved by next week.  I had a chance to “test drive” my nips this past Halloween, where I dressed up as a “Gold Digger.”  I wore a tight gold lame strapless dress that was tight around the chest area.  I haven’t had nipples for so long, I didn’t think about the implications of wearing a tight dress around my boobs.  But when I went to a very large party that night with a bunch of friends and kept getting a lot of male attention that night — much more than normal — I realized that being in constant “nipping out mode” will attract attention.  And honestly, it’s not always welcomed attention.

For today’s soundtrack, please bear with the obvious (and kinda cheesy) selection: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DR2DPrcFXeM.

When It Rains, It Fracking Pours (Part II)

You know you’ve been blogging a while when you recycle an earlier blog title.  The last time I used this title, I had just found out I did not have the CA 125 marker for ovarian cancer but had also been let go by my old firm.  That was mid-March of this year.  Again, it’s crazy how fast time is going by.

The reason for the title this time is the fact that not only do I have new nipples installed, but I’m also moving to the Bay Area.  After several months of applying for jobs in the Bay Area, I landed a gig with a disability rights firm in Oakland.  The timing is so crazy since I recently accepted a position with my current firm that I adore.  This job came out of the blue — a job I had applied for before accepting the position with my current firm.  It is all very fitting, given my journey with Karla for the last couple years.  I’m switching sides (as you may recall, I do defense work right now), jurisdiction (although I passed the California Bar in 2002, I’ve never practiced in this California), and practice area (construction defect vs. civil rights) – not to mention moving to a whole new city!  Holy fucking crap.  I’m finally fulfilling my dream of moving to the Bay Area.  I’m not sure if I will live in Oakland or San Francisco, but I have enough friends in both to couch surf while I decide the best living situation for me. 

I have a whole life in Seattle I need to pack up and fit into a U-Haul that will ship my ass to the Bay Area, and although I am sad to leave my family here in Seattle who has taken such good care of me during my battle with Karla, I am ready for the next step.  If Karla taught me anything, it’s to stop talking and start doing, and right now, “doing” means moving to the Bay Area and working for an amazing civil rights firm.

The other big event is that I’m having my uterine fibroids taken out on Tuesday.  Complications with my health insurance have made it imperative that I have any major procedures/surgeries before November 1st, and I’ve had this surgery planned for a while.  Yesterday I had an intravaginal ultrasound yesterday to track my fibroids, which I’ve described in prior blog posts as the most fucked up experience I’ve ever had in a hospital.  Here’s a dildo that I will maneuver around inside of you for the next 45 minutes.  Would you like to insert it yourself or would you like me to do it for you?

I go in this Friday for a pre-op appointment with Dr. Rothblatt, my gynecologist and fibroid surgeon.  If the only benefit to this surgery is the fact that my periods will be lighter (i.e. less of a murder scene in the bathroom), I may opt out of the surgery, but if removing my fibroids will increase my chances of conceiving a child in the future, I’m on board 100%.

Given my recent news of moving, I am feeling my close friends in Seattle start to pull away from me and my friends in the Bay Area fight over where I will live.  I recognize that the Bay Area will not be the panacea to all my woes here in Seattle — I will still struggle with the fears of recurrent cancer, I will still struggle to find an appropriate mate, and I will still deal with financial difficulties galore (even with my new job).  I just hope I will find a space that is my own to carve out and to own as mine and mine alone.  I’m excited for the new path on which I’m traveling.  I hope it will be healthy, happy, and fulfilling (in mind, soul, and body).

I’m being swept up in a sea of change that I can’t control right now and it’s so exciting and scary all at the same time.  I’m not sure how this will all end, but what I do know is that every bit of it sounds right.  I’ve been looking for appropriate cliffs to dive off of for a while, and I think I found the appropriate ones from which I’ll soar.

That all said, I leave you with an amazing soundtrack from Shawn Lee & Clutchy Hopkins.  These peeps grooved my soul today and deserve some props: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ytcKXCJrx8A.  If this link no longer works, the track is called “Ancient Chinese Secret.”  Given my part-Chinese ancestry and the bumpy-get-me-in-a-good-mood-feel this track has — it’s appropriate.

How You Like Me Now?

I have new nipples.  I can’t believe it, I better type it again – I have new nipples!  And how fitting that I got them almost one year after my mastectomies.  My how time flies.

I went in on Wednesday for the “in office procedure” to have my nipples installed by Dr. Paige, and little did I know how involved this procedure would be.  My girlfriend, Kiko, picked me up very early to take me down to Federal Way (about 30 minutes south of Seattle) for my 7:30 check-in time.  Immediately upon my arrival, I went through full surgery prep with the nurses, stripping down to my underwear and socks and putting on a hospital gown.  Dr. Paige came in to greet me and mark where my new nipples were to be installed.  He then escorted me to a mirror and asked me if I agreed with the marks.  It’s been so long since I’ve had nipples, I had a hard time envisioning nipples where these two sharpie pen marks were on my chest.  I exited the bathroom and told Dr. Paige that the marks “looked fine.”  Inside I prayed that he really did mark them in appropriate locations. 

I was transported to an operating room where the nurses situated me on the operating table and strapped my arms down (at my request so that I’d keep my arms in place).  As I lay on the operating table, I noted how cold the room was and realized that I would have to withstand the whole hour-long procedure with my bare chest exposed to the cold.  I was thankful that they didn’t hook me up to a heart monitor, as I could feel my anxiety level rise. 

Dr. Paige entered the room and explained that he was going to give me the local anesthetic to numb the area.  As he started injecting Lidocaine into the area of my left breast where the nipple was to be installed, my gut twitched with every other stab of the needle.  I realized that I could feel a lot of what was going on in that area.  Dr. Paige noticed that I was in discomfort and apologized.  I looked at him and said that I was very grateful to feel some of the needle work, as it is a sign that some my nerve endings are rejuvenating.   Dr. Paige smiled and commended me on my positive outlook. 

As he injected a bunch more Lidocaine in my right breast, I realized that I have been in this exact situation before.  You may recall that before my mastectomies the radiologist performed a lymphoscintigraphy to identify the sentinel lymph node (the first node to receive lymph from a tumor) in each breast.  This procedure involved him injecting a bunch of Lidocaine in each nipple before injecting dye that would ultimately drain into the sentinel lymph node of each breast, allowing him to identify the nodes for my breast surgeon to remove for biopsy.  I cried on the radiologist’s examination table while he injected me with the Lidocaine in each nipple.  The procedure was fucking painful.  I sobbed, knowing that this would be the last sensation I would remember of my nipples.  By the end of that day, I no longer had breasts or nipples.  So as I lay on Dr. Paige’s operating table this past Wednesday, I realized how fitting this whole procedure was — this is the way I lost my nipples, and this was going to be the way I got them back.

After Dr. Paige completed injecting all the Lidocaine, he left to give the Lidocaine some time to take effect and to allow the nurses to prep my chest for surgery.  The nurses sanitized my chest area, put rolled up towels around my chest area, and then put up a blue sheet to block my face.  I suspect this blue sheet had two goals: (1) prevent me from breathing on and contaminating the surgery area; and (2) prevent me from passing out or otherwise freaking out by being able to see what Dr. Paige was doing.

Dr. Paige returned to the room within 10-15 minutes, checked the areas to make sure they were numb, and then proceeded to make the incision that would serve as the basis for my nipple on my left breast.  It was surreal to lay there and feel him poke, prod, and tug on me without feeling any pain.  I experienced a lot of cognitive dissonance in that moment — Dr. Paige was cutting, pulling, and stitching in an area that has always been a very sensitive area for me.  Although I have not had nipples or very much sensation in that area for almost one year to the day, not being able to see what was going on or feel any actual pain was making me anxious.  I felt like I should have been feeling pain, and with each stitch that Dr. Paige made (I could make out some of his movements based on sensation I felt in other areas of my chest), I was deathly afraid that I would feel the needle go in.

One of the nurses sensed my anxiety and started talking to me to distract me from what Dr. Paige was doing.  I was grateful for the distraction.  By the time Dr. Paige was done with my right nipple, he had spent less than 45 minutes doing the whole procedure.  The nurses cleaned up my chest area, put on these dome protectors for my nipples that look like Slurpee cup tops, and brought me to the recovery area. 

Dr. Paige warned me that the nipples would look huge right after the procedure, but they would soon heal down to nubs that would be more reasonable in size.  When the nurses brought down the blue sheet covering my face, I saw what he was talking about.  They have a bunch of stitches in them and they look Frankensteinish, but I can totally see how these will heal into attractive nipples.  I pray that I don’t experience any complications.

The nurse in the recovery area helped me get dressed, went over my post-op instructions, and immediately released me.  My girlfriend Eza picked me up, we had brunch, and then she took me to work, where I proceeded to work a full work day.  Dr. Paige prescribed some pain killers for me, but I haven’t picked up the prescription and I don’t think I will, because I don’t need them.  As long as I don’t stretch my chest area, I’m not in any pain. 

I have one more step in this process – areola tattooing.  Dr. Paige tells me that he wants to wait a couple months to allow me to fully heal from the nipple installation before starting the tattooing.  I can’t wait.

For today’s soundtrack, I heard this on one of my favorite online radio stations, KCRW.com, and immediately got into a great mood.  The title of the song became my battle cry after my new nipples were installed:  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sVzvRsl4rEM.