Ever hear of that book and movie called "Why I wore red lipstick to my mastectomy."? I've never read it and actually never even heard of it until after my mastectomy. But I too, wore lipstick to mine; except I think it was more of a lighter pink. I was wearing jeans, a pink sweater and silver, slip-on Converse sneakers.
I remember waking up the morning of my surgery and thinking, "Huh, so my body is never going to look like this ever again. Weird." And then my eyes filled with tears, I got freaked out and pushed it right out of my mind. I just kept thinking this surgery is something I HAVE to do, and it will cure me; and afterwards, the cancer will be officially and technically removed.
I felt like a robot. I was putting on makeup, watching the early morning news, and even curled my hair. To go to my mastectomy!
We arrived and it all just felt like a simple robotic motion. Ok, so change into this gown. Done. Wait in the waiting room until we call you (but make sure you wear these little booties on your feet and shower cap). Done. The looks on my mom's face, Dana's face, and The Great's face, were scary. They were all white in the face and nervous. I was the only one smiling, with pink lipstick on my lips of course.
Next thing I knew, I walked into the operating room. THAT was the weirdest part. Shouldn't they have wheeled me in? Or carried me, or something? You don't just WALK into surgery? For a double mastectomy!?!? Do you? Part of me thought it would look a little like the Nip/Tuck OR; but unfortunately neither the doctors nor the room lived up to my expectations.
However, the nurse held my hand the whole time they were getting me ready and asked all about my favorite alcoholic drink (dirty martini with extra olives, I answered). I couldn't understand why until I felt the anesthesia kick in and she said, "Feeling drunk?" And the next thing I knew, I woke up in the recovery room asking for my mommy.
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