Every week I visit my plastic surgeon’s office and get my expanders filled. I’ve been there about 10 times now. In about 6 weeks I will have the final surgery to place my implants and that will be it, except for the 3D nipple tattoos.
What has made this bearable is Joe, the medical assistant to the plastic surgeon. He’s been there quite a while, and he knows the ropes. He’s very kind and gentle, and I’ve never once felt like just another patient.
Joe is the only male that has seen me without a top on since I got cancer (other than some surgeons). I don’t know what I expected – it’s his job, after all. Maybe I thought he’d grimace or something, but he just walked in and talked to me and did his job.
I honestly have felt like a very fat, 11-year-old version of myself. I have felt like one of the Who’s in Whoville, or a giant Teletubby – no boobs at all, and sexless. Not pretty, that’s for sure.
Joe calls me “Ms. McGagin” and treats me with respect and like the woman that I am. He has been supportive in my journey towards feeling whole again. But he did it from the inside.
Slowly, I am returning to my former self. With each visit, my chest is looking better and better.
So, fill ‘er up, Joe, and thanks.