SO.... with all the "are you going to post pics" emails, Im baring all....and it ain't pretty.
The shadow underneath is bruising... promise... its not fat...
Monday, December 31, 2007
The boobs are released
Its now been three weeks since my operation, this morning I got my mummy to take some pics of my boobs - dressings included. There hasn't been much pain, just soreness. I had a slight accident picking Dylan up and had a little tear, but a steristip soon covered the damage and I was back on track.
SO.... with all the "are you going to post pics" emails, Im baring all....and it ain't pretty.
The shadow underneath is bruising... promise... its not fat...
SO.... with all the "are you going to post pics" emails, Im baring all....and it ain't pretty.
The shadow underneath is bruising... promise... its not fat...
Thursday, December 27, 2007
Stitches out.
The 27th of December dawned and I headed off to the hospital again, this time to have the stitches removed and the dressing checked.
Took myself off with a box of chocolates and a thank you card for the staff of ward 46. I eventually found the ward, sadly non of the staff who looked after me were on shift, but I left the chocolates and headed off to the outpatients dept.
The nurse I saw - Shelly - took me into a little room and again I undressed. Im begining to get used to taking off my clothes for complete strangers, maybe I should think about a career change.
My stitches, unbeknown to me, were dissoluble ones. Once the dressings were removed, there I was in all my glory. I could hardly believe how little scaring or bruising I had. Shelly put on some soft dressing stuff that holds the cuts together like stitches but doesn't actually invade the body. That was it. I was cleaned up a bit, Shelly said how good everything looked, and on with my clothes.
In a weeks time I'm allowed to have proper bath, which will dissolve the dressing stuff, from then on I have to follow these rules for the next four weeks:
Don't drive.
Don't lift anything heavy.
Don't do anything that hurts!
Easier said than done.
Took myself off with a box of chocolates and a thank you card for the staff of ward 46. I eventually found the ward, sadly non of the staff who looked after me were on shift, but I left the chocolates and headed off to the outpatients dept.
The nurse I saw - Shelly - took me into a little room and again I undressed. Im begining to get used to taking off my clothes for complete strangers, maybe I should think about a career change.
My stitches, unbeknown to me, were dissoluble ones. Once the dressings were removed, there I was in all my glory. I could hardly believe how little scaring or bruising I had. Shelly put on some soft dressing stuff that holds the cuts together like stitches but doesn't actually invade the body. That was it. I was cleaned up a bit, Shelly said how good everything looked, and on with my clothes.
In a weeks time I'm allowed to have proper bath, which will dissolve the dressing stuff, from then on I have to follow these rules for the next four weeks:
Don't drive.
Don't lift anything heavy.
Don't do anything that hurts!
Easier said than done.
Tuesday, December 25, 2007
Christmas, pain and alcohol free - almost
The last couple of days have been a real pain in the boobs - Gosh get me the comedian. Ive been on pain killers much of the time, so pretty spaced out and sleeping for England. It hurts to move my arms, my back hurts, my head hurts and most of all my bally lips hurt. The swelling on my boobs and lips is finally starting to go down. Mum has been pretty fantastic, keeping me fed, cleaned and controlling Dylan.
I guess the hardest thing has been not holding Dylan, not being able to pick him up when he fell over, or cuddle him when he was going off to sleep. Mum has had him in her bed at nights and Ive really missed waking up with the little bloke. Mind you she hasnt had the best of sleeps with him in her bed and I really couldnt thank her enough for looking after him. But have to admit that all in all things have been hard. Ive attempted to help at times, but most of the time all Ive been able to do is potter round the house moving a glass here, a cup there. I couldn't even open my beloved coke bottles without assistance.
Shane came home for Christmas, so he helped mum with the Christmas dinner. Keefe dropped the wee man off at about 11ish Christmas morning, I was fretting to open the Christmas presents, but Dylan chose to sleep. Bugger!
He finally woke up at 1o'clock and the unwrapping began. As normal I'd told everyone not to buy anything much and as normal everyone ignored me.
Dylan got:
A Boat
A cleaning set - perfect gift for my perfect man.
A Tweenies bathset, some stickly bricks, lots of puzzles, a fire engine and
Pumkin - Gandie had a go on him
Nanny San had a go on him
Then Dylan had a go on him.
My best present was cuddles from my wee man.
Christmas dinner was the usual triumph I have come to expect when mum and Shane get together in the Kitchen.
Far too much food, far too much richness and far too many yummies. However only a few glasses of the good stuff were imbibed, due to me on pain killers, Dad's diabetes and Mum just not drinking.
It was a lovely day though and as Dylan went down to bed I lay with him in my arms tonight, for the first time in what seemed like ages, full of bonhomie and good cheer.
Happy Christmas everyone!
I guess the hardest thing has been not holding Dylan, not being able to pick him up when he fell over, or cuddle him when he was going off to sleep. Mum has had him in her bed at nights and Ive really missed waking up with the little bloke. Mind you she hasnt had the best of sleeps with him in her bed and I really couldnt thank her enough for looking after him. But have to admit that all in all things have been hard. Ive attempted to help at times, but most of the time all Ive been able to do is potter round the house moving a glass here, a cup there. I couldn't even open my beloved coke bottles without assistance.
Shane came home for Christmas, so he helped mum with the Christmas dinner. Keefe dropped the wee man off at about 11ish Christmas morning, I was fretting to open the Christmas presents, but Dylan chose to sleep. Bugger!
He finally woke up at 1o'clock and the unwrapping began. As normal I'd told everyone not to buy anything much and as normal everyone ignored me.
Dylan got:
A Boat
A cleaning set - perfect gift for my perfect man.
A Tweenies bathset, some stickly bricks, lots of puzzles, a fire engine and
Pumkin - Gandie had a go on him
Nanny San had a go on him
Then Dylan had a go on him.
My best present was cuddles from my wee man.
Christmas dinner was the usual triumph I have come to expect when mum and Shane get together in the Kitchen.
Far too much food, far too much richness and far too many yummies. However only a few glasses of the good stuff were imbibed, due to me on pain killers, Dad's diabetes and Mum just not drinking.
It was a lovely day though and as Dylan went down to bed I lay with him in my arms tonight, for the first time in what seemed like ages, full of bonhomie and good cheer.
Happy Christmas everyone!
Thursday, December 20, 2007
The big Operation
Well I set off for the hospital with dad, because traffic in Newcastle was horrible, we were going in on the metro. Ive not been on the metro for ages it was actually quite nice. Had a chat with dad, stressed about the operation, bit my nails...
Dad took me to buy two new bra's. 34DD and 34E. Its been years since Ive brought a bra in a "normal" store, it was quite exciting, so many choices. Of course I had been told my the hospital that I needed to purchase sports bras, but the idea of purchasing something pretty, with lace and matching pants in months to come made me really happy. I left dad to do the rest of his shopping and with my ruck sack headed up to the hospital. I hate hospitals, so walked with some trepidation up to ward 46,"Sorry" they said, "you've been moved to ward 46". I headed back down the corridor with my head thrumming. Did I really want this operation, did I really need it? Couldn't I just carry on how I was, was I so wrong? I stood in the hallway for about 5 minutes talking myself into and out of the operation. Eventually I took my courage in my hands and pushed open the doors.
The staff on ward 46 were lovely, I even had my own room, with on suite bathroom. My god, all on NHS. Within a hour of me being in they had took my blood, done my pre-op shots and I was just sat waiting for Mr Collis to show up. A very nice young lady came and asked if I minded donating my spare flesh, so they could do some tests and stuff to find the cure for something or other and I happily signed away my excess boobs.
Dad dropped in to see how it was all going and got me a book. As he was arriving back with the book Mr Collis turned up. You have to tell Drs the truth, Ive seen "House" and know people do lie to their Drs, but I tend to deal with those in the medical profession as demi-gods. So when he asked me if I smoked I admitted to smoking occasionally - erm... quite often... well almost daily. Dad looked at me with shock - "You smoke!"
That little shock out the way nothing else mattered, so when Mr Collis asked me if he could see my breasts I immediately whipped em out - as you do! He then got out a black felt tip pen and proceeded to draw on me. Nipples, cut marks, explaining how and what he was going to do. "I've got a small op to do at 5, then will come for you, your my main attraction" he said with a confidant smile and a bit of a twinkle.
I was given one of those lovely hospital robes, which cover nothing and told "We'll be back to pick you up soon". The head anaesthetist came in and introduced himself to me, did I have any questions "No", did I understand what was going to happen "Yes", was I happy? "Maybe". 5pm came all to quickly, I sat attempting to read my book remaining calm.
Its strange how slowly the clock can tick, when your dreading something. But before I knew it, the door was opening Margaret walked in "come on Shannon, we're off to Surgery". We walked, me trying not to show my ass to the other ward occupants and Margaret chatting away about Christmas. My friendly anaesthetist was there with his team, chatting to me like I was just out for a walk. "Pop up on here, take off your jewellery, socks, any thing else you want to ask us?".
Lets do it then, said the little assistant guy with a cheeky smile "Just a small prick, but don't hold it against me". I laughed ....
Four hours later I was waking up. God I hurt, especially my lips, my first thought was bugger I cant feel my lips, my second was "who the heck is that whistling Christmas songs". It was a nurse called Marie - who was so smiley and calming. "Shannon can you hear me, don't move, your operation went really well, Im just looking after you until you feel a bit less drowsy. You did really well." Im just going to give you some more morphine...."
I woke up again back in my room. Michelle and Tracy both shuffling round me, moving me with care. "Shannon, welcome back, you did great, how do you feel?" "hmrrrgh ... ghmrrr... happyrmmrmr". "THats good Shannon, you just lie there me and Tracy will check on you reguarly" "Water?" "Yehfhhf"
Were just going to give you some more pain killers.... mmmmmhhhhhhmmmmm.
I woke, my head like a brick. My eyes focused on the glass of water and I pushed out my hand. Water, spilled.. Michelle and Tracy in like a shot cleaning me up, changing the sheets, laughing at my bungling speech, which was finally coming back. My lips still felt like they didn't belong to me, my tongue didn't seem to know how to move in my mouth. And my chest... well that looked damn small!!!
My little drip seemed to ease most of the pain and every now and then either Michelle or Tracy would come in and administer something yummy that made the world go into fluffy mode.
I woke relatively late (from my experience in hospitals)about 7.30 by Michelle bringing me breakfast. "Can you eat? How do you feel? How are your lips?". Apparently I had kept them in stitches talking about my lips and how I was going to be the next Angelina Jole lookalike. I don't remember any of it, but I had, through the night, managed to get myself out of bed and go into the toilet. I had seen my lips and freaked cause they were really, really, really big. Both girls had to assure me that they hadn't got the operation wrong and plumped up my lips instead of getting rid of my boobs.
They thought it was hilarious. I did too, until I saw the bloody things. I was less Angelina Jole and more Lesley Ash after her little run in with Collagen. Not a pretty sight.
On the whole though, apart from my lips hurting like hell. I actually felt quite good. I had had a bleed through the night, but there was extra padding added and it felt good. My boobs were small, what did I expect, but not too small. The pain seemed manageable and I was looking forward to going home. There was alot of humming and harring. Mr Collis came, with a shed load of pimple faced students and checked out my new boobs. "Very nice" was the general consensus. "Can I go home now?" "Lets see how you are in an hour or so".
My friendly anaesthetist came in and asked how I was...I complained about my lips (ungrateful wretch that I am) he laughed and explained that I had had a really bad reaction to the anesthetic and spasmed, chomping down on my lips once the tube had been removed and thrashing like crazy - hence the additional night time care and concern about me going home.
"I feel fine, really, apart from my lips".
Pretty soon after Michelle came in to say good bye and tell me that I "was free to go". I made a call to mum and dad and packed myself up. I got dressed, a bit of a trail, and sat myself down to watch the last 30 minutes of my TV allotted time. My stay in the hospital had been great, yes read it and weep, I had a good stay. Everyone was lovely, they kept me informed and I didn't at any time feel out of control or at a loss. Annemarie, the ward sister came in with my pain killers and cleared me free to go. Dad turned up and I tenderly walked from Ward 46, feeling like a new woman.
Dad took me to buy two new bra's. 34DD and 34E. Its been years since Ive brought a bra in a "normal" store, it was quite exciting, so many choices. Of course I had been told my the hospital that I needed to purchase sports bras, but the idea of purchasing something pretty, with lace and matching pants in months to come made me really happy. I left dad to do the rest of his shopping and with my ruck sack headed up to the hospital. I hate hospitals, so walked with some trepidation up to ward 46,"Sorry" they said, "you've been moved to ward 46". I headed back down the corridor with my head thrumming. Did I really want this operation, did I really need it? Couldn't I just carry on how I was, was I so wrong? I stood in the hallway for about 5 minutes talking myself into and out of the operation. Eventually I took my courage in my hands and pushed open the doors.
The staff on ward 46 were lovely, I even had my own room, with on suite bathroom. My god, all on NHS. Within a hour of me being in they had took my blood, done my pre-op shots and I was just sat waiting for Mr Collis to show up. A very nice young lady came and asked if I minded donating my spare flesh, so they could do some tests and stuff to find the cure for something or other and I happily signed away my excess boobs.
Dad dropped in to see how it was all going and got me a book. As he was arriving back with the book Mr Collis turned up. You have to tell Drs the truth, Ive seen "House" and know people do lie to their Drs, but I tend to deal with those in the medical profession as demi-gods. So when he asked me if I smoked I admitted to smoking occasionally - erm... quite often... well almost daily. Dad looked at me with shock - "You smoke!"
That little shock out the way nothing else mattered, so when Mr Collis asked me if he could see my breasts I immediately whipped em out - as you do! He then got out a black felt tip pen and proceeded to draw on me. Nipples, cut marks, explaining how and what he was going to do. "I've got a small op to do at 5, then will come for you, your my main attraction" he said with a confidant smile and a bit of a twinkle.
I was given one of those lovely hospital robes, which cover nothing and told "We'll be back to pick you up soon". The head anaesthetist came in and introduced himself to me, did I have any questions "No", did I understand what was going to happen "Yes", was I happy? "Maybe". 5pm came all to quickly, I sat attempting to read my book remaining calm.
Its strange how slowly the clock can tick, when your dreading something. But before I knew it, the door was opening Margaret walked in "come on Shannon, we're off to Surgery". We walked, me trying not to show my ass to the other ward occupants and Margaret chatting away about Christmas. My friendly anaesthetist was there with his team, chatting to me like I was just out for a walk. "Pop up on here, take off your jewellery, socks, any thing else you want to ask us?".
Lets do it then, said the little assistant guy with a cheeky smile "Just a small prick, but don't hold it against me". I laughed ....
Four hours later I was waking up. God I hurt, especially my lips, my first thought was bugger I cant feel my lips, my second was "who the heck is that whistling Christmas songs". It was a nurse called Marie - who was so smiley and calming. "Shannon can you hear me, don't move, your operation went really well, Im just looking after you until you feel a bit less drowsy. You did really well." Im just going to give you some more morphine...."
I woke up again back in my room. Michelle and Tracy both shuffling round me, moving me with care. "Shannon, welcome back, you did great, how do you feel?" "hmrrrgh ... ghmrrr... happyrmmrmr". "THats good Shannon, you just lie there me and Tracy will check on you reguarly" "Water?" "Yehfhhf"
Were just going to give you some more pain killers.... mmmmmhhhhhhmmmmm.
I woke, my head like a brick. My eyes focused on the glass of water and I pushed out my hand. Water, spilled.. Michelle and Tracy in like a shot cleaning me up, changing the sheets, laughing at my bungling speech, which was finally coming back. My lips still felt like they didn't belong to me, my tongue didn't seem to know how to move in my mouth. And my chest... well that looked damn small!!!
My little drip seemed to ease most of the pain and every now and then either Michelle or Tracy would come in and administer something yummy that made the world go into fluffy mode.
I woke relatively late (from my experience in hospitals)about 7.30 by Michelle bringing me breakfast. "Can you eat? How do you feel? How are your lips?". Apparently I had kept them in stitches talking about my lips and how I was going to be the next Angelina Jole lookalike. I don't remember any of it, but I had, through the night, managed to get myself out of bed and go into the toilet. I had seen my lips and freaked cause they were really, really, really big. Both girls had to assure me that they hadn't got the operation wrong and plumped up my lips instead of getting rid of my boobs.
They thought it was hilarious. I did too, until I saw the bloody things. I was less Angelina Jole and more Lesley Ash after her little run in with Collagen. Not a pretty sight.
On the whole though, apart from my lips hurting like hell. I actually felt quite good. I had had a bleed through the night, but there was extra padding added and it felt good. My boobs were small, what did I expect, but not too small. The pain seemed manageable and I was looking forward to going home. There was alot of humming and harring. Mr Collis came, with a shed load of pimple faced students and checked out my new boobs. "Very nice" was the general consensus. "Can I go home now?" "Lets see how you are in an hour or so".
My friendly anaesthetist came in and asked how I was...I complained about my lips (ungrateful wretch that I am) he laughed and explained that I had had a really bad reaction to the anesthetic and spasmed, chomping down on my lips once the tube had been removed and thrashing like crazy - hence the additional night time care and concern about me going home.
"I feel fine, really, apart from my lips".
Pretty soon after Michelle came in to say good bye and tell me that I "was free to go". I made a call to mum and dad and packed myself up. I got dressed, a bit of a trail, and sat myself down to watch the last 30 minutes of my TV allotted time. My stay in the hospital had been great, yes read it and weep, I had a good stay. Everyone was lovely, they kept me informed and I didn't at any time feel out of control or at a loss. Annemarie, the ward sister came in with my pain killers and cleared me free to go. Dad turned up and I tenderly walked from Ward 46, feeling like a new woman.
Monday, December 17, 2007
Boobs.
Lots of people ask my why I want this operation, and I kinda give the usual backache, headaches, cant run, cant cross my arms or get clothes to fit... Its all of these things and a little bit more. I hate the way I look in a mirror. I look uneven - odd a thing of disparity. If I wear a tight top I get comments of complete strangers like "ohhh - you don't get many of them to a pound love", or " Wooooaaar, Id love to loose myself in there - wouldn't come out for a year". Incidentally I have lost things down the front of my top - mainly food - but sometimes its just not seen as polite to go "furking" down your front.
Well, and this is me being brave, not being porno or 'Readers wives', I've had a friend take a couple of shots - so I can look back and say "Yes girl, it was the right decision".
Here are my before shots (they are not pretty) - the after shots will follow in a few months.
Well, and this is me being brave, not being porno or 'Readers wives', I've had a friend take a couple of shots - so I can look back and say "Yes girl, it was the right decision".
Here are my before shots (they are not pretty) - the after shots will follow in a few months.
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
Lipstick on your collar...
Well actually on my mirror, the bath, the hallway, his face, my leather sofa and the TV...
But boy did we laugh.
But boy did we laugh.
Kiki's
Ive talked about this place a couple of times, its brilliant for the little ones and gives all us mums a fab place to meet up, where we know the tots can run crazy for 2hrs and tire themselves out without causing too much damage. Obviously all this crazy running around means they get a good afternoon's nap and we can pleb somewhere on the sofa in the knowledge that little fingers wont be wiping jam over the sette in the next hour or so.
So this is Kiki's
Soft play corner
Dylan with his mate Archie. I kinda imagine Dylan and Archie sat in a similar position in about 14 years time, only this time it will be a bottle of WKD they will be sharing.
Archie in the Tunnel of noise.
Rachel and her mom. This is Dylans favourite slide, he comes down it head first and giggles all the way.
And finally the ball pits - of which there are about four - but this is definitely his favourite. (Mine too).
So this is Kiki's
Soft play corner
Dylan with his mate Archie. I kinda imagine Dylan and Archie sat in a similar position in about 14 years time, only this time it will be a bottle of WKD they will be sharing.
Archie in the Tunnel of noise.
Rachel and her mom. This is Dylans favourite slide, he comes down it head first and giggles all the way.
And finally the ball pits - of which there are about four - but this is definitely his favourite. (Mine too).
Monday, December 10, 2007
Im playing catch up, so bear with me.
Its been a somewhat hectic couple of weeks, Mr Whirl's visit set me off on my mammoth tidy, unfortunately things didn't quite go as a I wanted. I had plans to tidy and clear out for Christmas but the urge was overcome by the get up and go, which got up and went. Ive found myself often just sitting on the sofa pondering life and not getting much done.
I feel really wishy washy, unable to deal with friends and family on a more than infrequent basis. Ive had some lovely mailes from friends but have been unable to communicate anything of importance.
Dylan however fills my days with smiles and I frequently thank the powers that be for giving him to me. He has been totally fantastic this last month, when is he not, his language skills have come on in leaps and bounds, he's not clear with a lot of his words, but his meaning comes across loud and clear.
Shaun and Jo came to stay the weekend, their pre Christmas Dinner.
Dylan loves Shaun and Jo and though it took him a little while to settle with them after a few minutes he had Jo off upstairs showing her his bedroom.
We had a lovely night in with mum and dad at mine, chomping down on an lovely Indian provided by the local take-away.
The next day we relaxed at mums, yummy Sunday dinner and an afternoon snooze.
I feel really wishy washy, unable to deal with friends and family on a more than infrequent basis. Ive had some lovely mailes from friends but have been unable to communicate anything of importance.
Dylan however fills my days with smiles and I frequently thank the powers that be for giving him to me. He has been totally fantastic this last month, when is he not, his language skills have come on in leaps and bounds, he's not clear with a lot of his words, but his meaning comes across loud and clear.
Shaun and Jo came to stay the weekend, their pre Christmas Dinner.
Dylan loves Shaun and Jo and though it took him a little while to settle with them after a few minutes he had Jo off upstairs showing her his bedroom. We had a lovely night in with mum and dad at mine, chomping down on an lovely Indian provided by the local take-away.
The next day we relaxed at mums, yummy Sunday dinner and an afternoon snooze.
Tuesday, December 04, 2007
Im complicated.
But you already knew that didnt you? Went to see the neurologist today and the bottom line is that my migraines are "Complicated migraines" which mean that I suffer worse than the normal migraine plebbians out there - someone please find my cross whilst I chew off these nails.
Seriously though, he his hoping that the breast reduction will reduce the pressure put on the top of my neck and thereby reduce the severity of the migaines Im currently experiencing.
So - thats me back in the car - thank god! And just waiting for the results from the MRI/MIR (bugger me, whats that big scanner thing called?). Anyway for those results to say - "nope nufink serious - she's just complicated".
Seriously though, he his hoping that the breast reduction will reduce the pressure put on the top of my neck and thereby reduce the severity of the migaines Im currently experiencing.
So - thats me back in the car - thank god! And just waiting for the results from the MRI/MIR (bugger me, whats that big scanner thing called?). Anyway for those results to say - "nope nufink serious - she's just complicated".
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