Mia's Breast Augmentation Blog

A week to be weak....

2007-09-28T20:30:00.000-07:00

There's no need to "milk it for all it's worth" as you have no choice but to become a dependent. I had my teen daughter carry laundry, lift my preschooler, take out the trash, and even check/double check when I was backing out of my driveway. By day 5, my back was just killing me and I called to get a simple, therapeutic massage through the massotherapist at the gym.

Luck be a lady twofold — fortunately, she wouldn't even begin to touch my back without a doctor's write off, but second, she fessed that she had no experience with augmentation contraindications. So, the decision to not use her was an easy one.

I had one of those home-medic back massager things with the long handle, but no luck. Finally, after dinner of the 5th day, I took my kids to the beach and propped some stones and rocks under a beach towel and laid on them until the pressure was one of those "ooh, ahh, ow" feelings. Anything to get that nasty knot out. I was also feeling tightness in the front of my neck and jaw. Just a very annoying tensed feeling.

I also went to the gym on this 5th day, to do just walking. Not cardio. Walking. Being a fitness nut anyway, I thought I could eek out a good pace. Surprisingly, I was exhausted after 20 minutes and couldn't even move my right arm anyway. I looked like I had stroke on one side from the rigidness of my upper body movement. I tried to do the stretching wall exercises but damn, those were hard. I vowed to do them at home in my peace, quiet and sanctuary of my bathroom where I could watch my form for parallel range. I went home after the 20 minutes, ate some lunch and slept for an hour! This coming from one used to riding a bike 20-30 MILES at a time.

Obviously, the body tells you when enough is enough.

The implants felt high, hard and numb. The nipples were very very sensitive in a painish way. The skin was shiny and there was a distinct new feeling of side fullness of having C cup boobs.

Still, not much moving around or doing much — I was still using the ice packs and getting antsy to go/see/do..
I was scheduled to see Dr. Vanek for my one week checkup and have the stitches taken out ...looking forward to that. Next up... stitches and scar management.

Feelings on Healing

2007-09-27T06:48:00.000-07:00

The next couple days were filled with round the clock percoset, trying to do range of motion moves, antibiotics and anything that didn't involve use of your arms. I think I could write 1001 ways your pecs are used!

I mastered scooching into bed; but surprisingly, you need your pecs to get you out. I would need to almost ball up and roll out of bed. When my kids were home, I'd have them push me up from my back. Even trying to use your elbows as leverage wasn't too helpful. Trying to roll to the side to drop one leg to the floor from the bed meant that pressure would increase to the side of the pec you were rolling on. ouch.

I still had this "shoulders-to-ear" thing going on and felt my muscles getting very tight in my neck, back and chest. Once in a while I'd get an involuntary clenching of the pecs, mostly the right side. Almost like the muscle balled up really tight. After day 3, it hit me..

THE RHOMBOIDS.

Oh gawd, the shooting aggravating unbearable pain of this muscle. Still trying to knead it out on a corner wall, this part of my back seemed directly affected by my rib area. I'd push into the rhomboid and feel it in the ribs. I guess it is true the hip bone is connected to the.. .or however that song goes.

On day 2 my man-friend offered to pick me up and go to his house to watch a DVD. All well I suppose, but his idea 'fun' picking me up in a 'vette didn't gel with the low ride seats. Nor did his friskiness which to this day still pisses me off that I could barely move my upper body and he's all horny. Men--it doesn't take much, does it girls? He was loving the 'look' though he didn't see the boobies nakie. I tell ya.

THen, the next day my friend offered to drive me to pickup my daughter from her fathers 50 miles away. Great friend, except SHE has a convertable and there was nothing sexy feeling 3 days post op going 70mph on the freeway with my boobs aching and feeling every chuckhole Cleveland has to offer.

Well meaning friends? Yeah, my advise is to stay away for at least a couple weeks post surgery.

more coming...

Unleash the girls!

2007-09-17T05:29:00.000-07:00

I arranged for public transit to take me to the post op appointment. For a mere $4 each way, they come to your home and drive you to basically, anywhere you need to go in your county. My ride arrived at my home promptly and I gingerly climbed aboard the shuttle with a couple of senior citizens already on board. I didn't notice how limited my range of motion was until I tried to hold myself on the step railing and then brace my body from the effects of the somewhat bumpy ride. There is something to be said about riding in a car vs. a shuttle bus--namely, shock absorbers. Thank goodness it was only a couple of miles to the docs. I was comfortably dressed in shorts, flip flops and an ugly plaid big and boxy button up shirt--the easiest thing to put on for the day.

With a pep in my step, I walked through entryway of the automatic doors and quickly found that the door to the doctor's office was HEAVY. Uh, yes -- pushing and pulling was not going to happen. I turned to the side and used my ass to push the door open.

Dr. Vanek came right in and asked general "how are you feeling" questions. I told him (proudly) that I had only taken one percoset though hard to sleep propped up. He strongly suggested taking the percoset, but use the ambien too, because sleeping helps the repair and recovery. I am hesitant about any drugs, let alone those that I read about rock stars checking into rehab for. I told him I'd consider it. He assured me the 6 day sample wouldn't make me addicted as I told him I didn't fill the prescription.

Now, it was time to unwrap.

As that 4" ace bandage was being unwrapped, I started to feel a wealth of sensations. First was a shooting pain/feeling to all the nerves going from just under the armpits to the nipple. It was like the nerves had been bound up that they finally were able to work again. I could feel the heavyness of the implants and my shoulder blades and rhomboid muscles in my back were tense. The swelling in the top part of the pec muscles was noticeable, but WOW -- FULL C!

Mission accomplished.

Dr. Vanek provided two sports bras and it was then I realized that getting dressed would be a challenge. Even with the zip front type, one doesn't realize that both arms need to move to get something on! With a little maneuvering I was able to get the bra on and then found my second new love, the ugly plaid boxy button up shirt. I was amazed at the cleavage and fullness my new boobs were showing. I remembered what my friend told me when we did the 'before' pictures the week prior "if I knew you looked like that I'd have suggested you get implants a long time ago!".

We finished up and again, Dr. Vanek suggested good sleep and taking it easy.

My return ride -- the transit -- arrived and again, boarded with other patients from the medical campus. They were all pleasant and quite old. Various stages of life and ails. I felt kinda guilty for being a "patient" of something so elective. These riders were clearly 'sick' but at the end of the day.. heck, you only live once. It was somewhat reinforcing of my decision. I'd hate to be older aged and wishing I had done this...

The ride home was longer as we had several others to take home. At one point, we had some road construction, complete with a gravel road. The 'girls' were feeling every bit of gravel, pebble and pothole. I didn't know if I should tense up or go with the flow of the bumpy bus. Either way, my whole upper body was aching and getting those shooting pains from my back to my boobs.

After 45 minutes to get to my home a few miles away, I was finally home (sweet home).

On tap the rest of the day -- pictures in the sports bra, relaxing and maybe sleeping.

Tomorrow--a little social call.

Blink... I have (bigger) boobs!

2007-09-09T18:43:00.000-07:00

...and so I opened my eyes and remember hearing my name called. Ahhh the fun of the fog of anesthesia. Hard to focus, feeling light as a feather, yet my chest was bound like a mummy, totally relaxed. And what was the comment the nurse made when I looked over toward her?

YOU'RE READY TO BE AN EXOTIC DANCER NOW

Yes. this is what a professional said to a patient coming out of anesthesia.

I knew I was loopy, but with it enough to have been incredibly offended and able to snottily reply "I didn't get my MBA to become an exotic dancer".

I was (add your own adjectives too) mortified, pissed, disrespected, offended, and just overall stunned this nurse made the comment she did.

I was wheeled back to room #6 and it was still very sunny. The woman in the curtained room next to me was talking very loudly about undergoing treatment for cancer and it was from smoking. I think she mentioned COPD. I was sympathetic but sheesh, she was LOUD and I just wanted to rest. I wiggled my toes and the nurse came over and brought me some plain cookie and hot tea. It was then I noticed that my shoulder felt like they had been moved to under my ears, my chin was double and that something really really heavy was on my chest. It was hard to breathe.
It was like you couldn't catch your breath and that to take a breath deep enough was impossible. It was hard to expand the lungs. Some nurse came in and told me I did great.

Hmm, I think I just laid there on the table and Dr. Vanek did all the work, but ok, I did great. The downside is you can't really see your chest from the mummy wrap. So it's like all the anticipation of Christmas morning, but without your goofy family hovering.

The nurse had me go the bathroom and from what I understand they want to make sure you can function fully before letting you go home.

My friend arrived to bring me home--it was about 5:30 when we walked out. Rude awakenings--

Car door--no strong grip to open.
Seatbelt across chest. Ouch.
Lifting a water bottle. not happening.

The rest of the night, I propped up in my favorite chair and chilled to the anesthesia wearing off. I filled baggies with ice chips and fortunately it was 90degrees outside, so it was somewhat refreshing. I hadn't taken any percoset yet, but knew I'd feel some 'discomfort'. The rest of the night was low key and thank goodness, my friend stopped me from sending resumes' out via email and writing cover letters. She reminded me that my writing skill was -- umm-- impared, and that it should wait a day or two.

I took her advice and thought it would be good to go to bed.

HAH. Here's where I could start counting how many times you don't realize when you use your pec muscles. I tried to get into bed and found the "slide and scoot" to get into position was best. There's no using your arms at all at this point. I had to prop my pillows up per post op orders and for once in my life recognized the need for a recliner. I guess all those men with remotes in their barcolounger knew something.

I dozed in and out and was up and downstairs quite a bit to exchange the ice packs. At 3am, it hit me.

PAIN.

Pain in my chest, ribs, lungs, jaw, face from clenching my teeth. I hobbled to the kitchen for a percoset and couldn't open the bottle. I got a rubber bottle opener out and still couldn't get a grip. I put the bottle on the floor, sat down and tried to open it with my feet. No go.

I really didn't want to wake up my friend, who so nicely slept over to help. But heck, that's why she was sleeping over--to help. I woke her up, she opened hte bottle and I took one. Within a short time, the pain was tempered and I slept some.

I woke up to find that yeah, I was sore! I had laid out a bunch of days worth of clothes that seemed easy to put on and off. A couple of zip front tops, pull on shorts. It didn't matter. This was going to be tough. I was hoping I wouldn't have to go #2 becasue I couldn't reach my butt! The range of motion was about 10degrees. My right arm was very weak.

I had this crazy rhomboid muscle thing going on too, from compensating and rounding my shoulders forward. Mind you these bits of info weren't (completely) unbearable but just feeling like I should be detailed at this point.

I was to go to my followup at 2pm and have the mummy wrap removed and placed into a sports bra. I was looking forward to that.

I was given post op antiobiotics for 5 days. Still taking the Arnica for bruising and ice packing like crazy! I called a few friends to update and spent the morning relaxing until my appointment.

next up--bandages off!

Boobs facing forward, let's aug!

2007-09-06T12:11:00.000-07:00

I've decided to go right into the surgery writing and the post-op days that have followed since it is so fresh to me.
You'll find from my experience, that when I refer to the outstanding service of the doctor and the doctors staff, it is what, in a cumulative way, helped me decide to have Dr. Vanek perform the surgery. To simply blog about service seems cookie-cutter. I want you to know 'why' this was who I entrusted to enhance my body and what the physical experience, friends and family reaction and other interesting surprises that have occured as a result of having breast augmentation.

For starters--pre-op bra size is 34 NB. That's "Nearly B" in the world of Playtex bras and thier freindly half-sizing. Costs a bit more, but saves on stuffing a regular B cup with Kleenex.

Anticipated post cup size is a full C. Sounds nice huh. FULL C. Not nearly C. or C,-maybe-D. But a no-doubt-about-it-C.

Surgery -- August 23 - Thursday

The surgery is slated for 2pm. That means the starvation has long kicked in as the orders were "nothing after midnight". At my preop meeting I asked about this timeline since its used for 7am surgerys. My concern was passing out. I eat every few hours and going 14 hours at minimum, then surgery then recovery.. heck, that's a long time w/o food or water.

They then told me nothing after 5am.

That didn't matter... I was so energized and ready for this, that though I slept well, I couldn't eat anyway. I was on supercharge. Again, the liberation of finally doing this was incredible. I want to say "the heck with everyone else" all the naysayers and those who think they know what is best for me. I had been 'nesting' all week, in anticipation of knowing that the next few weeks of recovery would be limited for cleaning and housework. (milking it for all its worth :)

I was to arrive at 1pm for check in. No makeup, earrings, contacts, purse, hairbobbles. Just the plain ol' me. I wore a zip up no sleeve baggy shirt and pull-up shorts with flip flops. This is almost Margaritaville.

My friend picked me up for the 2 mile drive and dropped me off. My wrap posts will talk in detail about the lack of best friend and family support, but anyway, I checked in to the outpatient place and hiding behind my coke-bottle glasses, signed in for the surgery. After filling out a couple more papers, I was led to the back to the pre op area.

Once there, I did a urine specimen to ensure I'm not pregnant (heck no!) and weighed (how dare they!) Happy to say, my marathon-required fasting gave me a 2lb water weight loss (yay).

After that, I was assigned room #6, which wasn't a room at all, but a curtain-partitioned area, yet quite spacious and very sunny. Odd--the sun that is, as it is Cleveland.

I donned the fashionable "which way does it go" gown and wondered if anyone ever found them to be too small. Can you imagine. I was then given a beautiful stretchy OR cap and this coupled with my natural face, gave me that much needed confidence to enter America's Next Top Model.

All kidding aside-- the nurse came in and started an IV with two drips--an antibiotic and what I'm thinking was some type of hydration fluid. I think that was the worst of the day, getting an IV put in. Surprisingly, I saw an old high school classmate, who is now a doc/surgeon there as well and I was hoping for the "you look the same" but really he was probably going "man, she looks horrible w/o makeup". Nice to reconnect after 20 years in school in pre-op. That'll be a story at the reunion.

I had a birdseye view of the OR people board and saw my name listed. But the ones ahead of me weren't marked off yet. 2p was rapidly approaching .. I wasn't nervous but READY. Let's do this I thought. Enough waiting already.

Dr. Vanek made an appearance at 1:50 and made Sharpie marks on my chest for the incisions. I wanted to look, but was already getting punchy from that liberation setting in and feeling quite mellow. Then, the doc checked in w/the nurses and was told the OR was delayed.

DELAYED?? what??

Yes, about 45 minutes. Now I was getting hungry.

I requested some magazines. And then after persuing the first outdated edition of Ladies Home Journal, saw yet another person I knew kinda well who was the maintenance dude. He went to my gym. I said Hi. He sat down and bullshitted with me. Crazy thing is that HE also thought I should stay the way I was. I told him I was not here to have his opinion and I actually got quite pissy about it. I said I'd welcome his encouragement at this point as I was only minutes away from doing this and who the hell was he, while on the clock no less, to offer up what he thinks is best for MY boobs.

Hmm.

I shushed him out after a short while. Must rid the negativity outta the room. This was my excitment and I wasn't about to have some ass ruin it as the last thing I hear before being anesthesized. Finally, it was 2:35 and the anesthesiologist came in to explain what she would be doing and how I'd feel, if I had any questions. I didn't have any questions. I think I was well prepared.

At 2:42 I was visited by a nurse who said it was time.

We walked down the hall and I was lead to the OR. As we walked thru the double doors, I noticed it was just like on TV-shiny, sterile, bright. And remarkably cold--or it could have just been my flowly hospital gown. I hopped on the OR table, laid on my back and saw Dr. Vanek. I told him I was here for my close up and he said he was ready.

The anesthesiologist said she'd be inserting the tube, I looked to my right and saw the digital clock--2:47pm, I turned my head to the left and

I would say, I was under and out.

Timeline begins... Aug in Aug!

2007-09-03T19:48:00.000-07:00

Life has a crazy way of sending us messages. It's when we look beyond that we see what those messages hold.

For the first time in my 20-year professional career, I was laid off from my job. Returning from July 4th holiday, we were sent home systematically in 1/2 hour increments to wait out a two-week paid layoff period. After that two-week time, if not rehired, we were told to "probably seek other employment".

Two weeks came .. and went... I was not immediately rehired.

I used my free time off to not only continue with my summer semester graduate studies, but clean, reorganize, have a yard sale and oh yes, step up the plastic surgeon search.

It was time for me. To make certain in between job interviews and sending out resumes, I was 'getting' the message of life. My older daughter was spending the bulk of the summer with her dad and the my little one was on a summer week-on/week-off schedule. The semester ended the first week of August and was to resume just about two and a half weeks later.

I scoured many websites, placed alot of calls and settled to do an in-person consult with Dr. Paul Vanek. Making the decision to go "in person" was very liberating. But I would have never gotten to that phase had I not experienced such phenomenal service on the phone with Dr. Vanek's staff.

This was truly the difference between good and great consulting; I'm excited to tell you about it because it was THAT exceptional.

Mind made up... it's about time!

2007-09-01T19:08:00.000-07:00

When I realized that the look I wanted could be had by augmentation, I had to put myself into an "I WILL" mindset. This was probably a good 7 years ago. When a topic came up about implants, boobs, cleavage, breastfeeding, plastic surgery, movie stars -- you get the idea, I told myself that one day I too would have implants. And again, others would weigh in on their opinion of what was best for my body. At most, I'd throw in a girlie comment like "ummm, I'm going to have implants one day".

They (friends!) would object. Reasons were many.. silicone controversy, fake look, scarring, harder to do mammograms...

And again, they preferred my body the way it was. (Funny, I never asked permission to gain/lose weight, cut or color my hair or made comment on theirs -- how bold some people can be).

I would continually tell them they just really like my bra. It's a good fooler.

I remember one friend over and over again told me I would "tip" over if I got implants as I am a small frame (5'5/ 118).

Another would ask "what man" didn't like my boobs that made me want to do this.

But I made up mind and knew that one day this would be something I would do.

Three more years passed and at the age of 37 I had my second baby.

oh, and a brief remarriage, that ended -- oh the drama, that's another blog.

I didn't breastfeed but again, had the glorious fullness that came with pregnancy, hormones, and gaining that woman-area weight.

I didn't gain much with this baby -- only 26lbs -- worked out through the entire pregnancy. But when the milk came and went, I found my breasts were... incredibly saggy.

Within 3 months I was back to my pre-pregnancy weight, but not the "look".

Saggy became, how can I say... bottom full. From the side, it was like a profile of a ladle.

Ever see the bra rack with "A-B-C-D, Nearly A, Nearly B, Fuller figure, LADLE.

Nah. Me neither.

The more toned and lean my body got, the more "blah" my breasts were becoming. For the first time, I felt it was the bra doing all the visual work. Some are fine with that. My sister is one of them. She just buys the padded, pushup, side-filled types that give the illusion of C cups. Kinda like using hair extensions. You don't really 'have' the volume, you just have something that fools the eye that you do. Even your own.

I wanted the real thing. But was worried about all those horror aug stories out there. I've seen the bad double-D's, read about that ol 'what's 'er name' having the deflated droopies and watched Pam Anderson give augmentation a bad name.

I saw enough smut stuff to know what I didn't want to look like and that to me was just as important as the other checkpoints such as board certified, op/post-op, etc. etc.

I started looking for pictures of "no ways" and "looks good".

I started researching just as you are doing -- on the internet and trying to find as many different viewpoints, whether good or bad, credible or seemingly shady, just to know I've not left any stone unturned. I asked around about plastic surgeons and sometimes, "hearsay" can be very powerful. Word of mouth can make or break any type of service.

And with that said, I'd consistently heard great (not just good, but great) feedback on Paul Vanek, MD, FACS.

I also heard not so good things about others in my geographic area (Cleveland) for a variety of reasons.

But hearsay is what it is. I dwindled my selections down and for about two years, waited to "woman-up" and make the call to for the consult. It wasn't the guts to do it, but the timing with respect to life.

With a toddler and pre-teen, my life was full and busy. Work, taking graduate classes, kids activities, the gym -- we certainly don't lead a slow-paced lifestyle. And I knew that whenever and whomever did the surgery, it would require a change in lifestyle -- albeit for a short term, but one which would impact my kids and those who would be my support system through recovery.

There was also the financial concern.

Did I really want to 'finance' my boobs as I did my Nissan?

And what if I couldn't make a payment? Repo the boobies?? jk

It was my intention to do this when I could fully and comfortably afford to do so. My Catholic guilt must have subliminally surfaced to make me realize that if I couldn't pay for it, then I shouldn't get it. (Though, no where in the Book does it talk about implants -- however it does say to 'take care of your house'). :)

I won't start getting religious in an aug-blog.

Anyway, all things considered. The time, unbeknownst to me, was rapidly approaching.

Life works in mysterious ways. They say the signs for everything are there if you choose to see them.

And the aug stars were putting the right people in the right place for everything to occur as it should....

Next up.. "time to re-market the package."

"....but you look fine the way you are"

2007-08-31T19:46:00.000-07:00

..in someone else's opinion.

We've always joked that my sister and I got my father's chest and my mother's ass. Being a traditional European family, a rounded and voluptuous shape was the norm. My mother, along with her 4 sisters all were very well built and buxom. My female cousins were ample and going through junior high and high school, I can remember in 8th grade, waaaay back in 1980, one girl being called 'the box' because her teen bra, which must have come from the full figure section at Sears, was quite shall we say... um, formed.

Growing up, it really wasn't a big deal about our breast size. Happy I suppose, with my A-B cup. I always opted for that padded cushy type of bra that would give a little more oomph to the profile. It wasn't until I had my first baby in 1993 at age 27, that I could actually see what I'd been missing.

Who knew!

I didn't breastfeed and after the milk came in, I remember feeling quite sexy with the new, albeit short-lived, curvy figure. I liked the look (hated the engorged feel) but never forgot that image of myself filled out.

After the baby, I stepped up my then fashionable aerobicizing routine and started to learn about weight training. Within a few months, I began to transform my soft look with a defined and toned body. As my body began to get lean, my boobs began to disappear.

Small, perky. A's.

woo hoo.

Though they fit my frame, I'd always hoped my boobs were fuller. I was trying to achieve symmetry with fitness and no matter how hard I worked, my chest would remain its small self. Of course, we know, breast size isn't going to increase by exercising. It just isn't controlled that way. Most of us have been there. Staring at the mirror at whatever age for whatever reason wishing we could change that "one thing" that wasn't in 'balance' with the rest of our body.

Notice, I didn't say "perfect."

By the time I reached my early 30s, I wanted s-e-x-y breasts. This was 'my' standard of sexy. Not my then-husband's idea. He was happy the way I was. (So wasn't everyone else, ad nauseam). I would plant the seed of getting implants on occasion, to family or friends as much as "in passing" permits. I began to take notice of women with great figures at the gym. And though I was achieving my lean look, so were they -- but with nice shapely breasts....

"Could that be me?" I'd ask myself.

And so, the journey begins.