This is 6 part series about my breast cancer and reconstruction surgeries—some real talk, a bit of education, and most importantly some humor.
Expanders out, implants in. A shorter surgery, a D-cup decision, and Dr. Pacella’s pursuit of perfection.
During my first consult with Dr. Pacella (my plastic surgeon), he said, “Breast reconstruction after cancer is intense. If you choose reconstruction, it will mean three separate surgeries over 8-10 months.” He warned me: if I’m type A, this process will be challenging – control would be completely out of my hands. Good thing I’m not type A.
Surgery number two was the removal of my tissue expanders and placement of silicon “gummy bear” implants (yes, they are actually called that because their silicone holds its shape, even if cut or damaged – like a gummy bear; truthfully, this built-in feature made me feel a bit better about putting silicone in my body permanently).
*my daughters learning all about implants at City of Hope.
It’s strange how cancer reshapes you – not just physically, but mentally. It’s terrifying, but it also brings a kind of clarity and courage, maybe even a willingness to take risks I might not have before.
This surgery was much shorter than the first – a little over an hour compared to the marathon 7 hour procedure that surgery number one required. Intubation was easier, my throat was sore for only about an hour afterward. And while there was some pain at the incision sites, I actually felt relief. The expanders were gone, replaced by much softer implants, and my body was already thanking me.
Dr. Pacella asked me before the surgery if I wanted to “go bigger.” I told him no thanks – I’ll stick with a modest D cup. Let’s not get carried away.
One of the best parts of this day: my mom was able to be there. She couldn’t come to my first surgery because my dad was in the hospital, also battling cancer, and everything felt like a crisis on every front. Having her with me this time felt like something had come full circle. We both needed that.
Of course, recovery meant being back in the beloved mastectomy bra that felt like a corset, complete with the lamb carcass padding. It’s bulky, awkward, and exactly as glamorous as it sounds.
Dr. Pacella is particular about his work. If it isn’t perfect, it’s not leaving the shop. I appreciate his high standards, but it does mean that I get the occasional mini lecture about symmetry or the art of creating “natural curves.” And here’s something I learned: to get the look just right, they actually sit you up mid-surgery while you’re still under anesthesia – like a mannequin test run – to make sure everything “falls” correctly. I guess that’s one way to ensure the goods are gravity-approved.
Honestly, I’m just grateful he cares this much about my boobs.
And so here I am, on the edge of completing this chapter. Surgery #3 is on the horizon next week, and while part of me can’t wait to finally be done with all the physical and emotional aftermath, there’s also this quiet sense of excitement. This last step will be the final piece in this complicated puzzle. I’m hoping it’ll give me the cleavage I’ve been missing and smooth out those wrinkles I’ve come to think of as ziplock bags of water under my skin. So far, I’ve been bra-free, and honestly, I’m hoping it stays that way. I’m ready to close this chapter, but I have a feeling surgery #3 is going to have its own lessons and stories to tell. Stay tuned – fingers crossed for a lot more cleavage and a little less ripple effect!