Breast reduction surgery: two weeks later

(image caption: a cropped image of a person with large breasts wearing a black lace bra, showing only the torso, with the word 'censored' across.)

Content warning: you may find images included in this post to be offensive or disturbing. The intent is to educate and inform, and if you don't want to see breasts, this is not the blog for you.  

I couldn't tell you how many men have asked me for photos of my bare breasts. Back when I was actively dating and putting myself out there to meet people, it was a weekly, if not daily, occurrence. (However, not as regular an occurrence as random strangers sending me pictures of their penises, which seemed to coincide particularly with any time I commented on a BBC article.) I never did take any pictures, or shoot the home movie that a partner in my 20s was always wanting to make, but I decided I would take one "before" picture for the purposes of educating people on how a surgeon prepares you for the knife.

 (image caption: a large pair of breasts, covered in black marker pen, showing the lines of incision for the surgeon).

In order to avoid censorship, you will see that there are no nipples on this photo. My breasts were so large, the nipples were practically down by my waist, and were very turned out as well. 

Getting drawn on was a weird and uncomfortable experience. Of course I knew that I was going to be cut apart, with a sharp blade, but seeing exactly where the incisions were going to be made definitely gave me the urge to run out of the hospital and call off the whole thing. I asked the surgeon if anyone had ever run, and he said "not yet." 

In the two weeks since the surgery, there have continued to be ups and downs. The crippling back and neck pain, headaches, nausea and dizziness finally tailed off after about 9 days. I contracted a stomach virus, so that was an extra burden. 

My first bandage change, a week after the surgery, was unpleasant. Imagine tape being pulled off your breasts/chest for an extended period, and then imagine that everything is super sensitive and sore. I was very lucky that my mum came with me to hold my hand, and whilst I sat with my eyes shut, she assured me that everything was looking good. I decided not to take any pictures of that first set of bandages, because there was a lot of blood and pus, and I didn't want to keep a memento of that. 

I did however decide to take a picture of the new set of bandages, which show how much things have changed since before the surgery. 

(image caption: a medium sized pair of breasts, with gauze over the nipples (and heart emoji's for censorship purposes), and bandages across the underside.)

This picture was taken 10 days after surgery, and healing is well underway. The right breast continues to have a very slight bleed, but scarring is minimal, and there have been no other issues.

The shape and size of my breasts will continue to change for the next year.

At time of writing this post, it's exactly two weeks since the surgery. I'm still not feeling back to full health, and I'm completely over wearing this stupid giant surgery support bra, but I do have growing confidence that it will all be worth it in a few months time.

Surviving the surgery

(image taken from: https://medium.com/@dhanwantarischrysalis/breast-reduction-surgery-what-it-is-benefits-procedure-risks-and-much-more-8de29bd0212) (image caption: a 4-step cartoon showing the stages of 1 type of breast reduction. 1: Incisions outline the area of the excess tissue to be removed. 2: Escess skin and fat are removed. The nipple and areola and then moved to a new and higher position. 3: The incisions are brought together to reshape the now smaller breast. 4: Sutures are placed around the areola and can extend downwards and horizontally under the breast crease.)

Content warning: some people may find the following post distressing. 

I had hoped to get a post up in a day or two after surgery, but recovery has been a lot harder than I thought it would be.

The day of my surgery was 7th March 2020, which feels like months ago but was less than a week. I wrote before that I felt ready to go under the knife, but on the morning of the surgery I found myself with doubts.

I checked in to the hospital at 7.45am, into a private room, since I was paying the hospital £5,800 for the pleasure of being there (not including surgeon consultation fees). My mum and partner came with me, and were allowed to stay all day, which was another perk.

The surgery was not until after 12pm, and so that was a lot of time to fret about it. Dr Stephenson (I've since been told that surgeons are Mr and not Dr, but I feel I've committed to this now) came to see me and put a lot of black marker over my breasts, giving him a guide as to what to remove and where to move my nipples to. (That picture will be going up at a later date).

Looking at all the black ink was a tad horrific. It really brought home the fact that my breasts were actually going to be completely cut apart, and that this was actually quite an undertaking. I felt bad then for not being body positive enough, and for failing the body positivity movement by being unable to love my gigantic, painful mammaries. I still feel a bit weird about it all to be honest, even now it's done.

The nurse and anaesthetist took me in to the preparation room outside the theatre, and did their best to make me comfortable. I knew from experience that I would soon be out, and that the next thing I knew I would be waking up in recovery, and that's exactly what happened.

I did so much reading beforehand, I thought I knew what it would be like. Everyone talked about waking up feeling lighter, but it wasn't anything like that for me. My boobs had gone from being down by my waist to being shoved up under my chain, and felt like two rocks. 2 kilos in weight had been removed, but I didn't feel any difference at all.

And then came the vomiting. Maybe people don't talk about this, or I was just really unlucky, but my skin felt about a thousand degrees, and I needed to vomit a lot. Projectile. It wasn't like vomiting at home, in the toilet, when you're a bit unwell, it was animalistic heaving. I couldn't eat that day, and I hadn't eaten since the evening before. Even the day after, I was nauseous.

Up my nose were oxygen tubes, because whilst on the operating table I experienced tachycardia. That's when your heart is beating so fast that it can fail to fill with blood, and it's a very bad thing. For days afterwards, I still felt my heart racing, and it's something that still needs to be addressed.

I was wearing an extremely tight compression bra, which holds everything in place, and over the top of that is a tight band. It was hard to move, and hard to breathe. I had so looked forward to waking up and feeling a weight off my lungs, but instead it was the same as ever, and probably worse.

All I could do was vomit, and try to sleep, and hope that things looked a lot better when I woke up.

Running the gauntlet

(Image caption: Obstacle Course To The Voting Booth art print by Brendan Loper.  A cartoon image showing various obstacles, such as tyre rings and burning hoops.)

Back when I made my appointment to meet Dr Stephenson in January, I didn't think about the steps that would come afterwards. I think if I had, it would have been overwhelming, and the surgery would have been put off for another ten years. By the end of that appointment, we had picked a surgery date of the 7th March, and then I just had to get on with it.

When you have a surgery like this, you have to show that you are certain you want it done, and demonstrate that you have taken time to consider it, or back out. Before the surgery could go ahead, I had to have a second consultation, which ended up being on my birthday, 26th February.

The appointment was short and straight forward, but it is not what I would have liked to be doing on that day. Unfortunately there were no other appointments available, and so I made the best of it.

I also had to have a separate appointment with the hospital nurse. As with Dr Stephenson, their time was a precious as gold dust, and they had only one slot available that I could feasibly attend. It was somewhat awkward, as I had to fit it in around a training session I was attending for work, and luckily the time slot just about fit in with their schedule.

And then, after the appointments were scheduled and later attended, I still had the biggest issue to deal with: how the heck was I going to pay for this? The surgery alone was £5,800, plus I had to pay separately for the consultations.

Early on I had seized on the idea of crowdfunding, but to date, I have only raised £100, from four very kind souls. I went out to family members, and got a 3rd of the money as a loan from one relative. After that, I had no other option to go to the bank.

I was very lucky to be approved for the amount that I requested within fifteen minutes. It was a carefully considered sum, taking into account money that I already had, my disposable income, and the possibility of needing emergency funds.

Now, the surgery is about five days away. Around this time, on Saturday 7th, I will be in the operating room. I feel ready.

If you would like to donate to my campaign, please clink the link below:

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(Image caption: a person in a wedding dress with a tiny waist and very large, overflowing breasts, with a caption that says "just giving - lisasweddingbreasts - because not everyone can pull this off.")