Some Mornings Be Like That

My lower back was still hurting a bit when I woke up. I was up way earlier than I wanted to be awake. Every day can’t be Sunday morning which I know makes Sunday mornings all the more special, but I seriously wanted it to be Sunday morning where I could just turn the alarm off and sleep until I woke up (or the cats tickled me with their whiskers in order to be fed). Damn cats.

I got up and whatever. I did the regular stuff.

When I made it downstairs, I found that one of the cats had peed inside my son’s lunch box. I know, right? It’s outrageously disgusting. I’m not sure why she (I think it’s Bonnie) chooses to do this but it’s not the first time. The first time this happened many, many years ago I just threw the lunch box away. We usually remember to put them on the counter but it was left open by accident and cats are going to do what cats are going to do. Now I buy lunch boxes with inserts so that I can clean it properly. The lunch box is soaking on the counter with baking soda until I can address the whole mess tonight.

I woke my son up for school, put on make-up, made oatmeal for breakfast, and we headed out.

It was colder outside than I thought it should be but I opted not to get a jacket because I would only be going quickly in and out of two buildings today before arriving back home. My son’s carpool drive was noneventful and then I drove to a coffee shop before my 10:40 AM doctor’s appointment.

At the coffee shop, I was greeted by two baristas, neither of whom was wearing a mask which still pisses me off so much that I wonder why I even go into public places anymore. Assholes. Wearing a mask is actually a county mandate where I live but it seems there are more unmasked baristas and juice makers than masked. Double-triple assholes.

I know I’m not changing anyone’s mind so I do my eye rolls (internal and external) and order my decaf latte with soy milk. Any more caffeine for me and I’ll be able to see my heart beating right out of my chest.

I got settled into a very comfortable spot when I checked my calendar to see how long it would take me to drive to my 10:40 appointment.

CRAP!

As I saw how long it was to get to the appointment (12 minutes), I saw that it was a 10:00 AM appointment. How in the world did I get that time messed up in my brain? I logged into my patient portal and there it was, 10:00 AM confirmed.

There I was, in a coffee shop with no masked people talking over my drink as they made it, not much in the way of actual paid work to do for the day, and I had to leave like NOW and wouldn’t be able to get the two tasks done that I had planned for.

Fine. Whatever, Day.

I got to my car as I hurried to get to my earlier appointment and I was greeted by a bright orange Parking Violation envelope under my windshield.

Oh, FFS, this day is SUCKING hot, COVID wind right now. I was in the infected coffee shop for less than 20 minutes so I’m hunching they just watch those parking spots for people like me who don’t know the rules.

I shot both my middle fingers up in the air realizing they were probably watching me and I spun around. For what? For some sort of release is what because they are opportunists and not in the way that helps support people and their fellow humans.

I was resigned at that point to simply getting to my 10:00 appointment before it was too late so I just threw the bright orange reprimand in the back of my van and headed out.

On the way to the earlier appointment, I ran into some very backed-up road work because of course I did. I’m an optimist by nature but there are days that can really show themselves as the jerks that they are.

I was sitting for so long at one light that I looked up the practice on my phone (the traffic was at a complete stand-still so I had time and was safe) and called them to say I was probably going to be late (even though it was kind of 40 minutes early. Just sayin').

The lady who answered the phone was gracious enough and said if I was to come after 10:15 I might have to reschedule but they’d be on the lookout for me. Yay, for something that went well.

I got to the appointment exactly at 10:00 so that was happy enough.

Here’s what you need to know about this appointment. I’d been putting it off for more than two years because I really didn’t want to go nor did I feel like I needed to take care of my implant.

That’s right, this was for a plastic surgery issue.

Let me explain. In 2017 I was diagnosed with breast cancer and had to have a bilateral mastectomy with reconstruction (book coming soon – Open In the Front). In 2019 (or maybe 2020), I woke up after having my entire body laying stomach down on my right side two mornings in a row. So this was my full body weight bearing down on just my implanted right breast for two nights of sleep in a row. I’m not sure how long I was laying like that but it felt long enough that something might happen.

Now, I know that my implants are not made of steel so watched carefully but nothing seemed to happen so I just forgot about it while I actively tried to figure out how not to sleep with my body weight on my breasts (bolster under my legs worked pretty well).

A few days after I had slept with my full body weight on only my right breast, my right implant sort of just “popped” while I was at work. I remember the moment vividly as one would when something of this nature happens. I was talking to my friend Morgan and my right breast just kind of boinged out as if it were trying to escape from my shirt.

I’m not quite sure what my face did but I remember that I shifted my breast back into my shirt and excused myself from the conversation. We weren’t supposed to be chatting anyway. We were meant to be working.

It didn’t seem to be a huge change once I got home to inspect further. It was like I had two grapefruits sticking out of the front of my chest in the morning, but after my right one tried to escape, it was like I was left with one grapefruit and one flying saucer.

I had left the flying saucer breast for a solid two years until my OB-GYN was like, “You know, we have a great reconstruction team. It might be a really quick fix.”

And I was all, “It doesn’t matter because I’m not dating anyone and it doesn't bother me so why would I get it fixed?”

She said, “I’ll put the referral in the system and you can choose to go or not.”

This day was the day I had made an appointment to talk to a plastic surgeon about my flying saucer breast.

Insert a deep breath, a kind pause, and a step into my big girl pants.

I got checked in, went to the little patient room, and got dressed with the gown open in the front. I sat in the side chairs in the small office. I opted to not sit on the patient table which I found interesting. I have learned to follow my intuition and I was more comfortable sitting in the side chair.

The doctor came in and asked me where I lived. I thought that was a very odd question considering I probably lived near his office but I answered with the getting-to-know-you patient tone.

I paused a beat and said, "Uh, Charlotte."

"How long have you lived here?"

Another pause, "More than ten years I'd say."

Then we talked over each other as he asked me where I lived before Charlotte and I said that he and his partner's names were totally awesome together (Note: I'm not going to share but just know that their names were quite compatible so far as the symbiosis of life is concerned).

His geographical inquiry seemed weird to me but I’ve met a few people in my life who love to start with the places people live. Maybe he did this benign banter because he was about to examine and touch my breasts, but I'm not sure about these things?

I answered his third geographical question and then I launched into my reason for being there at that moment. I explained my rationale for not coming in two years ago when this first happened and it doesn’t really matter but my OB-GYN suggested I come to see him and … deep breath … here I am. I was way more nervous than I thought I would have felt normally, but I also hadn’t been in and out of these types of medical rooms for several years. I felt completely out of practice (get it? practice... like a medical practice).

By the end of my time in treatment (surgeries with no radiation or chemotherapy) in 2018, I was completely okay being naked in front of anyone. Repetitive exams can do that to a person.

But on this day I felt vulnerable again, which was probably why I sat in the side chairs and not the patient table stationed in the middle of the room.

I went on to explain that I thought the implant had just kind of turned around, like a baby growing in its mama. He agreed after a brief exam so we opted to see if he could just turn it back around.

Here’s what happened next – he quite literally grabbed my implant and proceeded to maneuver it like a sculptor maneuvering fresh, hard clay. He went for it and that shit hurt like hell! OMG.

He said, “Just keep holding on for me. I know it might hurt but I’m pretty sure I can get it.”

Wowza, it hurt! It felt like my skin was being twisted two separate ways at one time. He was totally great about it and I knew it was just something I had to move through. At one point, he said, “Try to breathe.” That helped tremendously. I had been holding my breath because of the pain on my skin so I relaxed, imagined my breast turning back around, and voilà.

He did it.

And I now have two grapefruits sticking out of my chest instead of one grapefruit and one flying saucer. I was pretty pumped and thanked him. He probably felt good about it as well.

Then he typed away at the computer for several minutes detailing his heroic twisting and shifting of my skin and implant while I sat with my legs dangling from the patient table.

I proclaimed that I would wear tight-fitting tanks and bras for the coming weeks to help my right breast remember its grapefruit-shaped roots. If either of my breasts tries to twist to the flying saucer phase again, I’ll probably try to DIY my implant back in place, but only if I feel called to do so. Sometimes we’re truly meant to be something else and I’m fully supportive of unharmful change.

I drove home, let the cats play outside as I wasn’t going into the office, and sat down to journal out my crazy day that ended up resolving a two year old issue.

Deep breath.

I hope you have a fabulous day and if it turns out to be anything like mine, I hope you can find the joy and humor in it.

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You can find my crappy-site-soon-to-be-not-crappy-site at micasworld.com to sign up for emails announcing my upcoming book and other such things or follow me here on Vocal if you're a member. Love to us all, Mica