I obviously didn't give my options enough thought before meeting with the plastic surgeon yesterday.
Bigger, smaller? Saline, silicone, or via natural tissue transplants from other spots on my body? The details of the gyrations required to recreate these things makes me shudder, but I'll get over it. really. (I took the girls for granted all these years. They're really quite an engineering marvel!)
I was boring, and told him I'd just like to recreate what I have today, but last night as I was tossing and turning and trying to fall asleep, my mind kept wandering. I'll likely lose some weight with this thing, perhaps the tiny Twiggy look? Hmmmm... How about major centerfold-like bazoombas? The mental images, most of them exaggerated to the point of absurd, kept me awake for some time - I couldn't quit laughing.
Sometimes, boring is best. Especially when you get to perk things up a bit, if you know what I mean.
I liked the surgeon - and one of my good friends was able to join me at the appointment, so I have someone to check back with when I can't remember all he told me. His nurse showed us some pictures of his past work. If he can do for me what he did for them, I will be a happy woman.
I have a date for my surgery (my mind keep insisting on inserting car wreck into this blank).
I will most probably stay in the hospital overnight, and be released to the tender care of my friends the following day. I'll leave the hospital with drainage tubes and the beginnings of my new girls already in place. The tubes stay in place for two weeks. (Fortunately for the finer sensibilities of those around me, I can shower after 48 hours.) The entire process will take 6-8 months; the time is needed for my body to adjust to the changes.
Tomorrow, I talk to the medical onocologist team, to begin to flesh out the rest of the story. Still waiting on the results of assorted tests before any final decisions can be made.
P.S. The kitten didn't quite pass muster at the vet's - he has feline leukemia. But then he started purring at us again, and his new owner is going to give him another chance. (The disease may or may not cause him troubles personally; it just means he will live his life in isolation so he can't pass it on to other cats.) He left the vet's with the worst of the mats cut out of his fur, dewormed and on antibiotics. If his diarrhea clears up in the next week, and he's able to put on and keep on some weight, he's got a good chance to make it. The report from his new home last night says he's on the mend. I'm sure he thinks the good spirits have entered his life. Warm, fed, secure, worst of the matted fur cut out, nasty bugs on the run, able to sleep without fear of attack. Life is Good!