This round of boob butchery was a little easier since I knew what to expect. The time was later in the day, so I didn’t have to get up at the crack of dawn, too.

So, same routine, put on gown, do the Papillon name and serial number bit over and over. I did have two new young nurses. One arrived on the scene and struggled to find the seam in the curtains around my bed, which looked like she was about to emerge like a guest on the old Tonight Show. I said “The suspense is killing me”, and we all had a good laugh. Again, it’s always good policy to keep your needle pokers in a good mood. It worked, she got the IV into my notoriously narrow vein in one go.

I met the same anesthesiologist as last week, he stole my line “We have to stop meeting like this”. I told him that I was sorry, I didn’t anticipate being in for another surgery so soon, so I used up all my good material last time, but maybe I’d have a “David after dentist” moment when I came out of anesthesia that he could put on YouTube.

They got me in really fast, and I didn’t have to wait with a hook in my boob, so there’s that. I didn’t make any crucifixion jokes this time, just wished them good luck getting my fat ass on that narrow table, then curtains.

I woke myself up in the recovery room asking for cider. The nurse laughed and said they didn’t have cider, but they did have apple juice. I said “The kind of cider I want you don’t have”. Then I went to sleep again.

Later, I referred to my boobs as Pancho and Lefty, and the nurse got a big kick out of that. Finally a nurse who was a Willie fan!  She made me tell another nurse, who also got it. I finally killed! Good thing I was in the Country Music from the Eighties ward!

My Willie Fan nurses told me that I had talked to the surgeon, but I had no recollection of it. There’s a good likelihood that I asked him for cider. He had tried to find Pete to talk to him, but he was outside walking the dogs (we brought them with us this time). All I know is that everything went to plan and he finally got enough tissue. Good thing, because Pancho has been through the wringer, literally and figuratively. I took a peek at the new incision, the first one, as you recall, had like six steri-strips on it. The surgeon must not have wanted to impress me this time, because this incision has only one, slapped on sideways. He tunneled in from what in the common parlance is called “side boob”, so my scars will be symmetrical even if Pancho is more deflated than Lefty.

So, another recovery day of walking on log legs, sleeping it off, icing, yadda yadda yadda, getting to be old hat. There’s not much pain at all, except the dread of dire constipation again. I ate a dinner of prunes and stool softeners, so fingers crossed. There’s always the six pack under the sink…

Stay tuned for the Radiation Follies!

 

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