Sticks of Fire: a Tampa blog

Had my pre-operation appointment yesterday because Dr. Berger is going away for the next three weeks. Turned out to be two hours long.

Learned a lot.

For instance,

- Most women want breasts that don’t fall into our armpits when we lie down. It’s a simple dream, really. Sadly enough, when we give birth and nurse until nipples are sore, that simple dream becomes a pipe dream. A good plastic surgeon will tell you, the choice is clear. Rely on maximum strength undergarments - which is fine until the inevitable unveiling occurs - or fix them permanently. Turns out, even smaller breasts naturally fall to the side when the lady lies down. Who knew? (Note: “breasts” not “mosquito bites” or “implant-enhanced ta-tas” - both of which are perky no matter the position. Even upside down. Don’t ask.) Dr. Berger just wants to prepare me for reality. That’s why I love him.

- Set aside a few hours for the pre-op. I did not, ran out of time, and must go back to take the dreaded “before” pictures. If you wanna help me pay for the procedure, I’ll let you see all the pictures when we’re done. Oh who am I kidding? They’ll be on my site before the year is out.

- The night before surgery involves lots of scrubbing with special cleansers, multiple enemas, and a mandatory sleeping pill. Anyone wanna crash at my place?

- Liquid diet, mandatory the final 24 hours before surgery, does not include pints of Guinness. I asked.

- Morning of surgery, I’m allowed to shower and shave for the last time - for about a week. After two days, you will be able to smell me for miles. Anyone wanna crash at my place?

- Also the morning of, I must take a Valium before my mother drives me to the hospital. I fought this tooth and nail, but doc won’t budge. I’m not like his typical patients, I tried to explain, who need pharmaceutical intervention every day of the week just to get through incredibly stressful manicures and golf outings. Tough as nails, I am. Still. Gotta take it, he says. So I’ll pop my pills, get wasted, and no doubt call to confess my undying love. Don’t pick up. For your own good. And mine.

- No strenuous activity *of any kind* for six weeks after surgery.

Less than a month to go.

And no, you may not crash at my place.

***cross-posted at Out in Left Field***

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