The expander implants.

I promised to post these photos. Will ad more narrative later, but these are things they are injecting with cc's.

60 cc's

Two weeks after surgery, I went back to Gurley's office. This visit was specifically to fill my tissue expanders with 60 more cc's on each side. This photo is pretty graphic. I thought about not posting it. But really I don't care. This is how it happened. This is what it looked like. Deal with it people. This is reality.

Colleen got everything ready for the injection. There was quite a bit of loose skin, and this was going to help fill out the lower "droplet". The expanders (which I promise to photograph on friday) have a hard plastic one way valve at the top center. Some how, with a device that looks very much like a physics pendulum, but was basically a free hanging magnet, Dr. Gurley found the exact point of entry, she then presses down on the device leaving a plus sign. The cross sections pointing to the exact point the 3 inch needled was to be inserted. She does this for each "breast" and then covers the area in iodine, staining the skin the dark orange you see in the photo.

This syringe is large. (just double checked the spelling of syringe, and have to include this definition: A syringe is a simple piston pump consisting of a plunger that fits tightly in a tube.) So its nightmare, horror film, cereal killer huge, right. I'm pretty much phased by nothing at this point so through out the process I was trying to take this photo. Dr. Gurley was a great sport about the photography, she even waited to completely inflate while my I gave my mother a quick tutorial on taking photos with iphones.

I just bought a bra at lunch today, it was a 36C. I'm scheduled for another injection. But really, i'm straight on the 36C. I might just stay here. But I think I can go backwards on the final decision, so we might as well see what another 60 cc's does to my wardrobe.

In this photo, the scars look crazy. But after that week, I started to work at getting the glue off. Yes they glued me shut. As it started to peel off, the red lines turned into faint pink lines. Its only one month out, and when they do surgery number two the craftsmanship will be more end result conscious. I'm starting to think the scarring is going to be minimal to almost nothing.

Jackson Pratt Drains

Its been called to my attention that these drains had a name: Jackson Pratt

A detailed account of this drain process is in order and long over due. The week after surgery I started with six. The rubber tubes are inserted during surgery while everything is open. You can see the tubes snaking under your skin. I've been told that the section of the drain within your body is similar to those garden hoses with holes all along them so that water can sprinkle over a long stretch of your yard. Exactly like that, only opposite. The bulbs create a suction. And the fluid that builds up in your body after surgery is slow sucked through the holes, down the tube, out of your body, down the 2 foot length of the tube and into compressed air tight bulbs. At their exit points, the tubes are sewn to your skin with black thread.

So i started with three on each side, six total. On each side 1, 2, 3 was labeled in permanent marker. For the doctors, the amount and color of the fluid draining is very important. I did my best to document accurately. I even set up an excel spreadsheet so I wouldn't mess up the sum totals. Every morning, lunch, and evening before bed they must be striped, drained and measured. Stripping: starting from the very tender entry point you squeeze the tube all the way down to the bulb, this takes all the fluid in the tube to the bulb. The bulb has a valve closing thingy, once it looks like all the fluid is out of the tube, normally if you did a good job, the tube will be flat from the suction. Then you open the valve, air fills the bulb up so its now an flatted bulb. Then you empty its contents into a small mL/cc measuring cup. Hold the cup up to eye level so you can read the cc number and record it on a form. Also take notice of the color. I had a system 0 being clear and 10 being blood red. It was a more or less subjective observation based mainly on the amount of drugs I was on that day and my particular mood at the time.

In the surgery center, the nurses took care of this process, while staying with my grandmother, my mom did most of the work for the first two days. I remember the first time we drained the left number 2. The pain was indescribable, fluid getting sucked out from the depths of your wounded body. I had to take a oxy and val and sit on the sofa in a haze of pain for at least 40 minutes. In prelude, next time, I took the pain pills and then 30 minutes later I was drugged enough to withstand the draining. Grandma tried to help on the third day, but by that time I was ready to do it myself. And had it down to a very quick system.

The saturday after my Tuesday surgery, I decided to escape family care and pack up and go back to the city. So I made plans to have all my friends meet me at my dad's pool first. Makes perfect sense right. RG picked me up, she didn't have a swim suit so we stopped by the Walmart on Manchester in west county. Did you know that rich people have WAY nicer Walmarts than us middle income city people. We had a shopping spree. I got some booty shorts to double as a swim suite bottom, and a tank top, and a very adorable fluffy skirt (perfect for hiding the drains), I also scored the cutest short sleeve pink cardigan. I spent like 50 dollars. Crazy huh?

RG and I then headed over to my Dad's new bachelor pad. MU and Jeff were already there with a cooler of beer and some mendota sparkling lime water for me. JT showed up shortly after, BW following not too far behind him. In an attempt to "hide" these six drains, I simply gathered them all together in the middle and tucked them under my booty shorts. This created the illusion of me having a giant cock bulge. I can only imagine what the other pool goer's thought, if i even gave a what. But it was pretty hilarious. At least we all thought so. Jenn gets rid of ridiculously big boobs and replaces with giant balls and monster cock. The laughter was a tad painful, but worth it.

As the days passed, the drains came out two at time. Number 1's at first, then a week later they took out number 3. I still have two left. I'm getting creative with wearing baggy skirts and shirts to hide them. sometimes i spread them apart and put one in each pocket, other times i swing them low and center under a skirt.

The final still pumping out about 30 - 50 cc's a day, each! A new antibiotic will hopefully end this flow. But I'm ready for this stage to be over.

Not to mention they are dangerous man leg hair grabbers in bed...

Dr. Gurley's Office

As a non cometic altering citizen my pervious notions of plastic surgeons where based off hit tv shows like Dr. 90210 and Extreme Makeover. Who's that guy on that bev hill show, with the hair... and the muscles, and the wife with the big fake boobs. They keep having kids. He does ty quan doe or something. And has the worst hair. Full circle there.

Gurley's spot is located off highway 40, you exit at timber manner court drivelanelakeway. Follow the outer road through a few stop lights and turn, err veer right, and follow the amusement park of parking lots to the last building. Over the past couple of visits, I've been watching the landscaping crew manicure the parking lot, dividers and mediums. Its developing quite nicely and rivals what i imagine Disney Land is rocking these days. Minus the mouse shaped box wood bushes.

I always check the building doctor directory for the floor button to push in the elevator. I know now its 3, but now it's habit, and I've been showing up with different people each visit so I like to take them through the discovery process I went through on my first, second, third visit.

Enter through sexy frosted glass door, allow man person who drove you to appointment to grab the curved steal rod that opens the heavy glass threshold. Andrea is at the front desk. She has a really fantastic attitude. I'd totally hire her. She juggles looking important and busy with being social and
not overly invasive but skillfully copacetic to whatever situation you have behind your eyes.

Visit one, I drove myself. My mom met me out there to talk one on one with DrJG. Visit two I came on my own. This was a pre-operation meeting with one of DrJG's nurses? assistants? I'm not sure what their titles are. So far I've met Suzie, and Colleen. Suzie's quote of the situation is "Dr. Gurley just makes the most beautiful nipples!" Can you imagine having a job where this is a statement you not only state several times a day, but also have absolute faith in the factorial purity of the declaration.

Colleen met with me to lay out the deal. She arrived with a Rubermaid container similar to the ones I organize my art supplies in sometimes, only hers was filled with drains, tubes, measurement cups, and pain pumps. She threw a lot of cards on the table. Like the drains. And the pain pump. And the fact that i'd have to actually look at my "breasts." Of all the things she explained to me about what would happen post operation, the single phrase that physcologically changed by fear approaching the situation was the fact that she continued to refer to the post-op scars being "My breasts." At the time, in my mind, my breasts were the ones i was carrying. These new these they were going to build certainly didn't belong to me. Or so i thought. The concept of having breasts made a big dent in the pre-surgery terror meter.

If you google mastectomy you find a lot of photos of lesbian women rocking their flat chested scars and pot bellies. Ok there is one specific one in my mind that came up too often, i think she had a salamander over her nipple. Her left breast was untouched. Her shirt was plaid.

My monday may 29th visit, i asked bw to drive me. We went to the office, then near my dad's west county apartment'd'viva. We drank a couple of New Castles at Harpo's. Which is across the street from Peach Hill, my dad's bachelor pad. Dave was on some sort of business conference call. So we had a few minutes to kill. I like it when I stick to a schedule, but occasionally the schedule allows you to stop and sit out side and enjoy a tasty beer with a good friend. After 3 NC's (combined) we cashed out and my dad rolled up in his SUV of the month. He dropped off a few bags of Vivianos': bread, salami, olive antipasto, cole slaw with red peppers. We do a grab and run and head over to Wildwood. I had intended to shoot a few more photos after lunch with the grandparents with this really heavy shot gun they had in the basement. Turns out my gpa paid like 65 dollars for it. Pound for pound, thats a damn good deal. But I forgot the flash card for the camera. Was totally bummed. BW and I headed back to the city, stopping at the bird mall to fix my refurbished ipod. This took a really long time. I am quite in awe of the patience exhibited by BW during this Apple store visit. I think if he hadn't have been there, i would have just left and fixed noting. Although it was quite fun for at least 30 minutes making a SIMs JT. We really got close to his exact description. I attempted to do some other people i know, but it occurred to me, that there is no one who's descriptive features I'm more familiar with than JT's. We get a lot of face to face time.

16114 Port of Nantucket

The county is the strange place. Everyone religiously takes care of their lawn. There are plenty of lawn novelties, but instead of sunflower wind mills and pink flamingos, you see more boxwood bushes and white birdbath fountains. If you leave your car unlocked, someone will actually come by and armor-all the dash board for you.

My grandparents, Jack and Joe, have been living out in wildwood for nearly ten years. Since they fled from Galaxy Lane, a lovely ranch style north county home on a sort of half circle cul-de-sac I used to ride my tricycle around and around. They also had a crab apple tree. The neighbors kids and I would pull off the apples and pelt each other with them, leaving large red welts on our exposed skin.

Tuesday night was spent in the surgery center. Then around 9 am I headed to my grandparents for what I thought might be two to three weeks. Wednesday I made an appointment with my Grandmother's hair dresser to have my hair washed and blowed dried. My family was extremely helpful caring and supportive. I've never seen people so focused on food in my life. While we eat breakfast (me a protein shake), they talk about what is going to be for lunch. Lunch is at about 11:30. While they make lunch, my grandpa likes to snack on a baloney sandwich, then the homemade chicken soup is finally ready. This was amazing by the way, my grandpa can really made some soup. Then while enjoying the soup we talk about what might be for dinner, pulled pork sandwiches? Stuffed grouper? chicken catatori? And after every meal I was offered cheesecake. I drank alot of iced tea and water. I said no, no, and no. Stuck strictly to my protein, mangos, berries, and veggies. I also found it generally less painful to be sitting up rather or moving around than vegged out on a sofa or bed. Thank goodness for facebook, my macbook, and free wifi.

My mother spent the first night there, then was back and forth from wild wood to pleasantville to take care of Bob.

JT took my car to fenton at night, since he wasn't allowed to spend the night. And came back later in the after noons, where we went to the pool, ate dinner, and watched a Tropic Thunder, Dan in Real Life (really enjoyed that one), something else with that kid who was McLovin in that other movie. I passed out for large portions of most of these. Because valium and oxy are some serious shit. I got off those narcotics asap. The valium however... man... They make EVERYTHING allllriiggght.

Even still, it was hard for me to get to sleep at night. My cognitive theory books where a bit too challenging for my state of mind. And "Youth and Revolt" fell between the bed and the wall on the first night. Plus the words were very fuzzy. So instead, the moments before loosing consciousness I spent texting BW. (Thank god i stopped him from reading those out loud last night. God only knows what I was typing at 3 in the morning with val and darv.)