Well it only took 11 months of waiting to hear back from the second plastic surgeon Peter, that, Yes, in fact I can have implants (from a surgical perspective)! My first surgeon, Mark, was very unsure that with my DEIP procedure (insert bilateral, radical mastecomy here) if there would be anything to attach an implant too.
I really like Mark and respected his ability to say he had limits - it takes a strong person to tell the that kind of truth, but it was a hard pill to swallow thinking that my chest would forever look like a fat boy's. I guess I didn't realize how much I needed to hear that there was the possibility that I could look like a female again.
Off Darcy and I trekked to Vancouver to meet Peter (very nice guy) - Oh how I love getting half naked in front of a total stranger - please take a look at my scarred chest, with fake, un-tattooed nipples that look more like cat tits...but it was worth it, and then to meet Peter's nurse, Toni - who for the first time in over 2 years, made me feel pretty and normal and like a real woman just by letting me put a stupid little saline bag in this special bra. I looked in the mirror and saw someone I hadn't seem in years - me! (Nearly lost my cool, right there - took every ounce of flesh on the inside of my cheek and lip to hold that composure.) Of course I wasn't beyond begging for the ability to get to keep this special contraption, but alas I could not persaude Toni to give me her magic bra.
Of course with everything that is Me, I couldn't have just all good news, there had to be some catch to it all - I must wait 6-8 weeks for the medical system to decide if I'm worth getting boobs, and of course the 18 month plus wait to get a surgery date with Peter. But I don't care, there is a possibility that with in 2 years I could not be mistaken for a guy, that no nurse will call me "Sir", and that maybe I might just turn my husbands head again.
I really like Mark and respected his ability to say he had limits - it takes a strong person to tell the that kind of truth, but it was a hard pill to swallow thinking that my chest would forever look like a fat boy's. I guess I didn't realize how much I needed to hear that there was the possibility that I could look like a female again.
Off Darcy and I trekked to Vancouver to meet Peter (very nice guy) - Oh how I love getting half naked in front of a total stranger - please take a look at my scarred chest, with fake, un-tattooed nipples that look more like cat tits...but it was worth it, and then to meet Peter's nurse, Toni - who for the first time in over 2 years, made me feel pretty and normal and like a real woman just by letting me put a stupid little saline bag in this special bra. I looked in the mirror and saw someone I hadn't seem in years - me! (Nearly lost my cool, right there - took every ounce of flesh on the inside of my cheek and lip to hold that composure.) Of course I wasn't beyond begging for the ability to get to keep this special contraption, but alas I could not persaude Toni to give me her magic bra.
Of course with everything that is Me, I couldn't have just all good news, there had to be some catch to it all - I must wait 6-8 weeks for the medical system to decide if I'm worth getting boobs, and of course the 18 month plus wait to get a surgery date with Peter. But I don't care, there is a possibility that with in 2 years I could not be mistaken for a guy, that no nurse will call me "Sir", and that maybe I might just turn my husbands head again.
