67 Years Old Finally Free - Raleigh, NC

I got my first set of silicone implants when I was thirty-two years old. I wanted them because I was ashamed of being flat-chested in front of my spouse. I had already had my two children and wasn't planning on having anymore. I had them for seventeen years.

By fifty, they did not look so good. I was reading a lot about the dangers of silicone implants and decided to go back to the original plastic surgeon who did my first ones. He told me it took him three hours to try and remove them. He said it was so difficult that he got up on the operating table to try and get them out along with the capsule. For some reason, I did not ask him what size saline implants he would put in. When the bandages came off, it appeared that I had much larger implants than I anticipated. Being the codependent woman I was during that stage of my life; I said nothing to the plastic surgeon about how I felt.
During the two augmentations I had, I spent my nights sitting against the side of the bed trying to bear the pain of augmentation and tried to sleep at the same time. It was awful. I did not take pain meds because I had children, and various responsibilities that would be impeded by the use of such drugs.

Although the implants looked good on the outside, they were difficult to sleep with. As time wore on with the second set (saline) I found it difficult to adjust the implants when trying to turn on my side to sleep. I felt pain upon turning on my side. I would then freeze in the middle of trying to move, grab an implant and try to adjust it slowly as I changed position in bed. I denied, denied, denied this experience each time it happened. I felt I had to live with it.

Throughout the 35 years of having two sets of implants,I did a lot of exercise which included, walking, yoga, and gym work. I was very fit. I lost all sensation in my breasts during romantic moments and lied about that to myself, too. Another denial. All this to look good for my spouse! Eventually, with the second set of implants, I stopped going for mammograms because I was afraid they would rupture in the mammography machine. My last mammogram was in 2005. For the last ten years, I wanted to get them removed but ignored doing so. I was scared.

Finally, in December of 2016, I got in my car and drove to the plastic surgeon's office in my locale that I had read about online. I had drove past her office a few months before but did not have the courage to go in. Well, finally in December, I walked in the door of her office. I told the front desk receptionist I have to get these toxic bags out. Thirty-five years of walking around with big sacks hanging on my chest was a lifetime. I was ready to get them out! I finally was putting my arms around myself saying "I love you, and you are going to get these things out!"