It’s Finished, Except…

I’m done. No more doctors’ appointments except for routine visits. My surgeon released me from his care today, barring any issues.

Although freed from his constant care, there are lifelong repercussions. I will need to massage the area for the rest of my life. If I don’t, the implant can grow stiff and immobile. However, the massage is easy. Push to one side, then the other. Push up and then down. I don’t have to this all day long, only a few times a day, after a shower, when dressing or undressing, getting up in the morning or going to bed at night.



As with any implants, I need to take antibiotics before dental procedures for the rest of my life to minimize the risk of infection. The implant is a weak spot, a target for virus and bacteria. So, I’ll take the precautions. It’s a small trade off.

The skin covering the implant is partially numb and tingles when I touch it. I feel the implant move when I flex the muscle. I sometimes have ghost sensations. The implant will be cooler than the rest of my body during cool weather as it lacks a blood supply. Only the thin layer of skin covering it will generate heat. A little more care in bundling up on cold days will solve that issue. Not a big thing either, just another small adjustment.

All those minor issues aside, my surgeon did an amazing job of matching size and shape. My bras fit the same on both sides. My clothes fit well. It looks and behaves naturally, except for not having a nipple. I decided against that reconstruction. It would not match the other side, and I am not concerned about that difference. The scar is already a tiny white line. By next year it will be difficult to see.

I am now free to resume my normal activities and I’m ready to get back into my exercises. My flowerbeds need a good weeding, and we have one last landscaping project to finish before winter. I’m also looking forward to a long stretch without visits to hospitals and doctor’s offices.

Regardless of the challenges, I’m lucky. I got off easier than many breast cancer patients. Still, it has been a long eight months, and I’m happy to reach the finish line.

My husband took me out for an elegant Italian lunch to celebrate. He’s as excited and happy as I am. He was there with every step, with every doctor visit.

Here’s to moving forward and not looking back except to be thankful for this second chance at life.