Embarrassment preparing for the TRAM flap surgery

Today was my pre-op appointment with my plastic surgeon for my upcoming breast reconstruction surgery. I am having the TRAM flap done. I wanted to have the DIEP flap procedure done – less down time and no muscle cut -- but there is only one doctor in DC who does that procedure and I could not get onto his calendar. I also did not want to travel out of the state/region to have it done because I thought that it would be too difficult to navigate the return trip home afterwards. Going through the airport is already a pain in the butt...imagine after you've had hours of surgery and have been in the hospital for a few days. Yikes. No thank you.

So, after a detailed conversation with my plastic surgeon, I opted for the TRAM flap a few months ago. And promptly put my mind on other things.

This morning, I completely FORGOT that I had this appointment. I was on my way to work, thinking about cupcakes and then the reminder notice pinged on my blackberry. I was stunned. Between me and you, I think that I’m in denial about having this procedure done. I feel like I’m on a runaway train and I can’t find the brakes. And that is really not how it’s supposed to feel.

George Washington University Hospital is a teaching hospital so it is not unusual for student doctors to be with a member of my medical team when I have an appointment. I think that I have a reputation as being a relatively easy patient because it seems that many of my appointments are ones where students are in the room with me and my doctor. Normally, it doesn’t bother me. Today…the two students were guys and it bothered me. Deeply.

After all that I’ve been through; all of the doctors and nurses who have seen my body in various states of dress…I was not prepared to be so embarrassed when the plastic surgeon asked me to drop my pants while she examined my belly area. It felt very invasive. Not cool.

Considering that normally I only get undressed from the waist up…I had not considered dropping my pants. I had not thought about her touching me, in front of two strangers and examining me so intently. Yet, there I was, face burning hot…trying not to look at these two young men too directly because I felt…so exposed and really embarrassed.

I was relieved when she asked them to leave only to be further embarrassed when she pulled out a camera to take pictures of me.

Before my mastectomy and my chemotherapy, I took a picture of myself naked so that I could remember what I looked like before my treatments. However, since my mastectomy, I have refused to take a picture of my body in its current state of disfigurement. I did not want to keep a picture of this crazy radiation scar (hyper-pigmentation) and I did not want to see a picture of my mastectomy scar. Its difficult enough looking at it when I’m in the bathroom alone. I didn’t want proof that breast cancer had changed me so much.

But today…proof does exist. And it’s proof that I won’t even be able to control or hold in my hands because its part of my medical files now. I am so embarrassed and I’m not completely sure why. I am unhappy today. There is so much to do before the surgery and I am still seriously contemplating cancelling it completely and just pretending that I’m okay just the way that I am.

So many things can possibly go wrong. The surgery scares me, to be honest. And while I want to feel like myself again, I’m starting to really accept that I’m never ever going to be that person again in my life. The normal for Nicole before breast cancer just doesn’t exist anymore. And that really hurts.

Today is a day...I could use a big ol' hug. But a cupcake from Red Velvet will have to suffice.