There is nothing the Internets like more than the opportunity to (a) act superior and / or (b) say 'I told you so'. Today, as my gift to you, I give you the opportunity to do both. For free. Please don't ever say I don't do nice stuff for you.
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As you know, about five years ago I decided that I would really like another baby. I had a few frozen embryos left in a cooler box in the fridge and I thought I would give them a spin. I was anxious about opening that whole infertility mind-fuck thing but I consoled myself with the fact that if the frozen embryo transfer didn't work, I would not go down the route of multiple IVFs again. I would hang up my reproductive boots and get some new 'for ornamental use only' boobs.
The frozen IVF did not work so I got new boobs. Or rather, I filled up the empty old ones with silicone implants.
Because life is a funny old thing, two years after I got the boobs I got the baby anyway.
News of the new boobs did not please some on the Internets. They did not approve for various reasons, some of which were valid, some of which was a bit judgey. Some of which was their personal opinion which they are perfectly entitled to and some of which was just the normal common or garden variety internet arsehole reaction.
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I have decided that February will be orifices check up month - boobs, vag, teeth etc and so on Tuesday I went for my annual mammogram. The mammogram was fine but then it was time for the ultrasound. The technician started scanning my breasts and then she stopped on one spot and took a few pictures. Then she scanned some more. Then she took more pictures. Then she scanned some more. And some more and some more and some more. And just like that, I was transported back to the many (MANY) times I lay on the table, having ultrasounds of ovaries / lining / fetal sacs / babies / dead babies where the news has been bad, very bad. I knew something was wrong. My heart sank and I went icy cold. My first thought was the big C.
Thankfully it wasn't that, but what was wrong is that the one implant is leaking. The implant has ruptured.
FUCK.
I got dressed and sat down with the doctor who informed me that implant ruptures are not uncommon (1% of cases) and by themselves do not post any significant risk. "Unless of course you have one of those dodgy French implants" she joked.
Anyone want to put some money on which implants I have?
Yip, those dodgy French implants that have been all over the news recently.
DOUBLE FUCK
** This is the part where all the haters just got a delicious little shiver up their spine. It's a pleasure**
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Why did my plastic surgeon use PIP implants five years ago? For the same reason all the other plastic surgeons did at the time. The implants were approved by the European Regulatory Authority and there was no reason to think that there was anything wrong with them. They were not the most expensive implants but they were certainly not the cheapest.
Normal implants have a rupture rate of 1%, these dodgy French shit have a rupture rate of 11%. And as if that wasn't bad enough, they are apparently filled with non-medical grade silicone. Lovely.
The bottom line is that these suckers must come out. When I first got the news that the implant had ruptured I said I don't want other implants put in but I have since calmed down and after discussion with my doctor and a few other people, I have decided to replace them with what will hopefully be high grade implants.
And no, I am not using saline implants I am going to stick to the silicone ones.
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This is a huge pain in the ass. In the chest actually. And the wallet. My surgeon is removing the implants for free but I obviously have to pay for the replacement implants, plus the theatre time etc which is a significant amount of money. It is money I would have preferred not to spend.
However, the biggest pain (besides the actual physical pain which I think is not going to be insignificant) is the time I have to take off from my daily chores, from my daily life. It is only when you have to replace yourself (lifts / school runs / extra murals / physical mothering) that you realize how much you do. It is a HUGE mission to make sure that I have someone else to do what I do on a daily basis. I hate asking people to help out. ALTHOUGH!!! I know they will help with pleasure. I get shouted at by my friends because I don't let them help enough. It sucks not being able to do it yourself though.
My operation is next Friday. I am already wondering what else they can do while I am under! Pin those Dumbo ears back.... remove those love handles.... fill that crevice between my eyebrows.... give me a pedicure....If I am going to be out of action for a while, I might as well get a nip or a tuck at the same time ;-)
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I can wail and shout and stomp my feet and cry 'why me' but that has helped me not one bit in the past. I have become somewhat of a veteran of falling in the unlucky X%. I am used to dealing with life's blows. In the grand scheme of things, this is not a tragedy. It's a ginormous pain in the arse, but it is not a tragedy.
All I can say is thank goodness I went for the mammogram. I had no signs or symptoms to think that anything is wrong. And just like my mother's cancer and in so many other situations like that, early detection is so important. So make sure you go for regular check ups of all your orifices, even if you don't have dodgy French boobs.
PS I don't hate the French, just that one French fucker.
PPS Imagine how much the mail order bride is going to love me now! W00t!