Wow. That was probably one of the worst follow ups I've had.
I had my 6 week follow up with Dr. A. after my surgery. The started out bad when I realized I was still sick with some kind of cold or sinus infection, so I felt like crap. Then I got into another argument with Jeremy, which made me feel more depressed. Then on the way to my appointment, I tried to take a dose of cough medicine, only to spill it all over my lap. I had to stop in Tanger to get a clean pair of pants and a shirt. Ugh!
I get to the appointment and I make Jeremy wait in the waiting room. Once in a room, I waited forever for the doctor. I realized he had lots of other patients that day, so I tried to be patient. Several time the nursing assistant came in and out to check on me and get my vitals. At one point, the nurse came in and said she needed to take the 'after' photos for my bio and chart. I told her I didn't want to do that because I wasn't happy with the results and I think Dr. A. will need to do another surgery. She kind of shrugged me off and made me pose in front of the fancy curtain. She took all the photos and left me to wait some more.
Some time later Dr. A. came in. He didn't say much, but did ask me what I thought of 'the job'. I broke at that point - I started telling him how they weren't the size they should be, that the incisions looked questionable and that they weren't 'settled' correctly. I was almost to tears trying to tell him how unhappy I was about my boobs, but I tried to hard to keep it in. When he was done, I finally cracked and just kept saying They're not right and asked why my expanders were bigger than what I have now. I could see he was becoming frustrated with me, but I couldn't stop myself. Then at that point he proceeds to tell me that they are the size that they are supposed to be and that there is nothing wrong with them. He then reaches over, pokes my belly and tells me that women that have bigger bellies have more of a problem with their breasts not being as prominent. He hinted that if I lost weight, my breasts would come out further. He then tells me to have the nurse weigh me today and then he would check my weight again when I came back in 8 weeks for my next follow up. For the first time in a long time, I was speechless. I could only nod and say 1-2 words while he and the nurse walked out. And then I lost it. I bawled. I did the ugly cry face. I was sunk. After the already shitty day I'd had - now this needed to sink in? I got dressed and walked out of the room, but when the nurse asked me to step on the scale to be weighed, I angrily told her that I wasn't doing it. I rushed out to the front, paid my copay and left.
It took everything I had to keep Jeremy from going back into the office and raising a stink. After all, he's pretty protective when he sees me crying - for any reason. All the way home I would randomly started crying - and then stop - and then start again. I couldn't stop. Not only had my boob job totally flopped - the boob job I thought would be the finale to my breast cancer journey - but the man I once idolized as a charitable surgeon and friend was now brushing off my concerns and pointing out one of my many other insecurities. He called me fat! I was this size when he met me two years ago - but he wants to make sure I know it now? I realized after that appointment that he no longer cared about me or my journey with breast cancer - he was just another plastics surgeon. Is he doing this to all his breast cancer patients?
I may or may not go back in 8 weeks. I just hope my incisions heal well and I don't have any more important questions, because I don't think he would help with either.
