I am in tears. Big, fat, hot tears. I'm not used to this much reality in my life.
I won't even go into detail about the ghetto broad at the reception desk who conveniently "forgot" to check me in for my appointment... even though I got there almost 2 hours early (had my times mixed up). Although she tried to ruin my day... her part in the tragedy is really minimal.
First, let me say... the plastic surgeon is really nice and she seems to be really on top of her game. I see why she's rated so highly and is so very busy. With that said...
she scared me to pieces.
The procedure that she and I agree would probably be best is the TRAM flap. I won't explain it here, but its a pretty intense procedure that uses the fat from my belly and some of my abdominal muscles to create a new breast. Its one thing to know that and another to hear that the procedure takes 12 hours to complete.
12 hours. Half a day.
To me, that's a very long time to be under anesthesia and lying with my body open and people digging and cutting on me. I didn't cry at the office, but I am certainly crying now. Afterwards, I will be in intensive care to recuperate from the operation. ICU... that's where my dad was last summer after his aneurysm. I don't want to be there.
There's more to add... but I'll have to do it later. I'm so freaked out and scared right now, all I can do is cry.
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