It's really not been long enough for me to come back blogging after I signed off but today was one for big decisions about surgery and it didn't seem right not to include it in the journey.
I took a taxi out to the hospital in East Grinstead this morning and it felt like a luxury. The sun was shining and the route took me through woodland and countryside. Anyone else ever go out for a drive with their parents growing up? You weren't going anywhere but the whole family piled in the car and drove aimlessly about narrow lanes; the serenity of the outdoors often contrasting with the commotion inside. Today the driver and I respected each others silence and I daydreamed all the way there.
Arriving early, I decided to grab a can of Coke from the cafe and sit out in the sun but thought better of opening it when I was besieged by flies and wasps and instead sat looking like I was in a bad disguise not fit for the sunshine, complete with winter coat, beany hat and sunglasses.
Soon enough I was in my appointment to find out if using donor tissue and fat from my own body was an option to reconstruct my new chest. This involves looking at either your abdomen, bum or inner thighs and while i'm now used to exposing my top half to all and sundry, I hadn't really thought I might have to stand in my knickers in front of a nurse and a Consultant- today would be the day I kitted myself in my bright, rainbow Happy Pants, wouldn't it?! And I announced to the room I was wearing my happy pants- god , I hope they know it's a brand and they didn't think I meant lucky pants because that just makes it all kinds of awkward.
Anyway, the upshot is by going this morning my three options for surgery have been narrowed down to one. It turns out, despite looking like my skin is melting off me, there's not enough there to do the trick, ruling out the option of a donor site.
The second option, using muscles from my back and channeling them through under my arms to make a cleavage would make life as a single mum quite tough as it would have an impact on lifting and a longer recovery time than the preferred option for me which is......drum roll please....implants.
The surgery for implants is the shortest and boasts the quickest recovery time - which is an absolute must when you're single-handedly rausing two young children.
So there you have it. Surgery is set to take place on the highly auspicious Friday 13th, with a six to eight week recovery period, all being well.