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What a mistake I feel I've made.
It has been a long time since I last made an update about my surgery. Some of life is to blame, (getting married, moving across the country, new job and full time school). Another reason is because I have been avoiding the update, because writing about it would cause me to reflect on my thoughts, and anytime I have done that I get very emotional. At this point, however, it doesn't seem fair for my previous reviews to exist and not give a possible viewpoint to someone who may have been like me, and possibly looked at my review in a false hope. So, here it goes.
It's been a year and a half since my surgery. From my previous information you can see the size of implants I choose, and possibly from my before pictures you could tell what my frame is, (small is the answer).
If I could do it all over again, I would have never gone with a size implant so big. When I signed all the paperwork and chose my implant size I knew that because my implants were going to be so large that they were "drop" faster than normal breasts/implants. I figured that probably instead of a 15-20 timespan on them I would probably need a lift closer to 10 years. I also knew that there was a risk of rippling, but I figured that since I was getting them placed under the muscle and that I was getting silicone vs. saline that whatever minimal ripples I thought I would see wouldn't bother me. However, about 6 months ago my views on my surgery started to change. Very slowly I noticed that my incision scars for my implants weren't sitting in the "crease" below my breasts, they were creeping upwards. I also more and more started to be annoyed by sleeping on my back, (which is really the only way someone can even try to sleep comfortably with implant this large), since when I lay flat my implants would shift sideways into my armpits. At first I figured I was just being paranoid- since I no longer live near my plastic surgeon, I wasn't able to get any post op appointments after 6 months, and I had no one to tell me that what was going on might be normal, nonetheless abnormal. One second I would be mentally freaking out that my implants had bottomed out, and the next I would be calming myself down saying "this is new, don't panic before you actually KNOW something." Shortly afterwards, the ripples started to show, and BOY do they show. They show so bad, no matter if I'm leaning in any direction or just standing up straight, I am literally back to not feeling comfortable enough to wear a bikini. Imagine that. $11k in attempt to heal some of my confidence, and a year and a half later I am wearing full-coverage surf tops in 110 degrees because my brand-new implants show like a cheap [RS bleep] star if I don't.
Eventually, I went to see a local plastic surgeon to try and help ease any of my fears. I had hoped and prayed that my "situation" was just something that my mind was overreacting about, and that at this consult with a new surgeon he would say "Don't worry." Well, that didn't exactly happen. He did say "don't worry," but it was followed by "we can fix this," and that my implants were in fact "sliding" down my ribcage, and that essentially, the weight of my large implants have been separating the muscles below my implants from my frame, causing them to drop, which is also why the incision scars are now sitting higher on my breast than what they should, (a full 1 1/2 inches).
Flashing forward to now, I am once again saving up to have a breast augmentation, AND lift. Because of the damage done to my breast tissue thinning out, simply putting in smaller implants won't solve my problem. Even though I am married, I don't have the same income and ability to save as I did before, so I am not sure when I will be able to have my next procedure done. What I am sure of, however, is that I will not be going to a surgeon who doesn't even bring up what a breast-width-diameter is and how it should be kept in mind when choosing implant sizes. Yes, telling your patients that they can choose whatever size they desire might make them happy at first, but is horrible in overall practice. Of course, my original surgeon didn't technically do anything wrong, performed no sort of malpractice, and I'm sure in some way he truly just trying to make his patients happy. But here I am. 18 months post op and I feel more self-conscious than I did before.
As an ending note, I would like to add that I know that I made the choice for implants this large and take responsibility for the outcome. I read as many reviews as I could find on other women who went from as small as I was to as big as I got, and I tried to do my research. I honestly felt like I was making an informed decision. I cannot blame, and do not blame, Dr. Dehghan for the outcome of my procedure. But ultimately I signed the surgery paperwork acknowledging all of the "possible outcomes" for the procedure. And honestly, if anything, that's what makes it all that much worse: when I had little boobs, I tried to keep my head up because that is just what God had given me, whereas now, my self-esteem is my own fault.
It's been a year and a half since my surgery. From my previous information you can see the size of implants I choose, and possibly from my before pictures you could tell what my frame is, (small is the answer).
If I could do it all over again, I would have never gone with a size implant so big. When I signed all the paperwork and chose my implant size I knew that because my implants were going to be so large that they were "drop" faster than normal breasts/implants. I figured that probably instead of a 15-20 timespan on them I would probably need a lift closer to 10 years. I also knew that there was a risk of rippling, but I figured that since I was getting them placed under the muscle and that I was getting silicone vs. saline that whatever minimal ripples I thought I would see wouldn't bother me. However, about 6 months ago my views on my surgery started to change. Very slowly I noticed that my incision scars for my implants weren't sitting in the "crease" below my breasts, they were creeping upwards. I also more and more started to be annoyed by sleeping on my back, (which is really the only way someone can even try to sleep comfortably with implant this large), since when I lay flat my implants would shift sideways into my armpits. At first I figured I was just being paranoid- since I no longer live near my plastic surgeon, I wasn't able to get any post op appointments after 6 months, and I had no one to tell me that what was going on might be normal, nonetheless abnormal. One second I would be mentally freaking out that my implants had bottomed out, and the next I would be calming myself down saying "this is new, don't panic before you actually KNOW something." Shortly afterwards, the ripples started to show, and BOY do they show. They show so bad, no matter if I'm leaning in any direction or just standing up straight, I am literally back to not feeling comfortable enough to wear a bikini. Imagine that. $11k in attempt to heal some of my confidence, and a year and a half later I am wearing full-coverage surf tops in 110 degrees because my brand-new implants show like a cheap [RS bleep] star if I don't.
Eventually, I went to see a local plastic surgeon to try and help ease any of my fears. I had hoped and prayed that my "situation" was just something that my mind was overreacting about, and that at this consult with a new surgeon he would say "Don't worry." Well, that didn't exactly happen. He did say "don't worry," but it was followed by "we can fix this," and that my implants were in fact "sliding" down my ribcage, and that essentially, the weight of my large implants have been separating the muscles below my implants from my frame, causing them to drop, which is also why the incision scars are now sitting higher on my breast than what they should, (a full 1 1/2 inches).
Flashing forward to now, I am once again saving up to have a breast augmentation, AND lift. Because of the damage done to my breast tissue thinning out, simply putting in smaller implants won't solve my problem. Even though I am married, I don't have the same income and ability to save as I did before, so I am not sure when I will be able to have my next procedure done. What I am sure of, however, is that I will not be going to a surgeon who doesn't even bring up what a breast-width-diameter is and how it should be kept in mind when choosing implant sizes. Yes, telling your patients that they can choose whatever size they desire might make them happy at first, but is horrible in overall practice. Of course, my original surgeon didn't technically do anything wrong, performed no sort of malpractice, and I'm sure in some way he truly just trying to make his patients happy. But here I am. 18 months post op and I feel more self-conscious than I did before.
As an ending note, I would like to add that I know that I made the choice for implants this large and take responsibility for the outcome. I read as many reviews as I could find on other women who went from as small as I was to as big as I got, and I tried to do my research. I honestly felt like I was making an informed decision. I cannot blame, and do not blame, Dr. Dehghan for the outcome of my procedure. But ultimately I signed the surgery paperwork acknowledging all of the "possible outcomes" for the procedure. And honestly, if anything, that's what makes it all that much worse: when I had little boobs, I tried to keep my head up because that is just what God had given me, whereas now, my self-esteem is my own fault.
12 Days Post Op
So it's been a while since I've posted an update. I'm sorry for anyone who has been reading or following along my journey, and I wish I would have updated sooner. So much has happened over the last few days, and I guess at the same time I feel like so little has.
My hubby finally came home from his work trip. It was so nice to be able to lean on my man rather than my roommate. She was a loving support and great caregiver but I don't think anyone can argue that it's just different with your spouse. I was literally in tears when he finally got home, which was just it's own emotional ball building up ever since day one. Overall, recovery has been better, (though different), since he has been home.
Since he has been home, I've gone from sleeping on the sofa chair in the living room to trying to sleep in our bed. That alone I feel has been the ongoing battle of my recovery. Walking straight has been a challenge on it's own, but when I try to sleep flat on my bed I feel the dragging of my progress haunting my thoughts. It's an amazing feeling, to have a tight stomach. Unlike some of the other women who have gone through a mommy makeover, it's not a familiar feeling at all of something that I had before having beautiful children or something like that. I've never been flat. I went from overweight to extra skin in the blink of an eye and it was like that ever since. And now the tension in my stomach almost frightens me, (though it isn't painful), to lay straight out of fear of it being too tight, and that I'm going to pull a stitch or open my scar. And when I cave and put a pillow under my legs to help ease that tension I feel like a failure at my own progress and I'm just slowing myself down on my own recovery. And now that my man is home when I get frustrated all I want to do is turn over and curl up with him, but even sleeping on my side is an impossibility.
As far as my TT incision goes... I remember going through Real Self stories before my procedure and reading about the swollen days, and trying to tell myself that if I could get power through the swinging curves that I can make it to the flat days and all will be well. Unfortunately, that's not really the way it works. Considering the compression garment that I have to wear almost every second of my day, I don't even think I would notice if I had a real day without being swollen. Every time I take it off to either wash it or change my bandages out, there is just a generic swollen-ness that I see, and at this point it's just getting depressing. I made a sad attempt to try and put on my skinny jeans the other day, thinking that maybe the lipo with the now missing skin pouch that sat on the front of my stomach and the post op swelling might balance each other out. Apparently, they don't. Jeans at an entirety are still far from my reality.
Over the weekend I really battled with trying to get myself off the prescriptions and onto just Motrin. Not that I really wanted to be off of narcotics. At first I liked the idea for the sake of not being reliant on something, but the first attempt at weening off really helped me realize that it's silly to not take pain killers if you are in pain. So, as far as advice goes, there it is. And that isn't necessarily from me to whoever has the next mommy makeover. I was waking up in the middle of the night trying to just shift myself in the slightest to get more comfortable or to ease the tension on my stomach and my husband would have to be the intelligence in my ear that if I hurt, to take the medication. And thank God I had that voice in my ear through that time. I am such a stubborn person that even through pain, if I tell myself I'm trying not to take them I would whimper in pain the whole night rather than let the thought of reaching for another percocet. Which, thought it might seem a little crazy, it's all rooted at my overall stubbornness of trying to get out of the damn house. Having my man home had been great because for a few days I was able to get out of the house for little spurts at a time without feeling overbearing on my roommate. But I knew the parade was going to be short lived once the weekend was over and he had to start going back to work. We generally don't go anywhere during the weeknights, and being stuck in the house from dusk till dawn was only being constrained by my taking prescription drugs. As soon as I was 24 hrs off, then I was free to drive myself as I so please. I think maybe at a different stubborn phase in my life I wouldn't have cared so much about such a rule, but there is also something to be said that if I am in enough physical pain to where I need to take the prescriptions, that I am probably not physically well enough to drive.
So, here I am, day 12, finally off of my prescriptions and able to take my freedom as I so please. I tackled some Costco this morning, (I know it sounds like a lot, but I made sure to go early so that I had close parking and didn't need to wear myself out maneuvering around a million people). I also had a lovely shopping cart to lean against when needed, and didn't need to get anything over a 10 lb bag of frozen chicken, so it was a pretty easy first trip out on my own.
The other day, though I didn't make any posts of my own I sought some comfort through others' posts on RS. I took advice on some non-surgical compression garments and made an order through kohls. A part of me is really hoping that maybe some spanx will get a flattering control over my surgical areas and maybe, juuuust maybe I can finally wear a pair of jeans. Even a looser pair would put a smile on my face. I'm pretty anxious for them to get here. I ordered 3, all different brands, praying that at least one of them will fit and be functional. A part of me has since been curious about just driving myself to a kohls now that I am able of my own transport but I don't think I would want to go about the efforts of a dressing room by myself. Hopefully I can teach myself some postal-patience.
Well, the majority of day 12 is almost done and I'm still crossing my fingers that maybe I'll wake up tomorrow morning and this stupid swelling will finally disappear. It would also be nice if my giant and beautiful new boobs will stop being sore, settle down to where they are supposed to be in 6 months and I can rock a bikini for the first time in my life. But I'm going to just keep on dreaming. =) Updated pictures to come!
My hubby finally came home from his work trip. It was so nice to be able to lean on my man rather than my roommate. She was a loving support and great caregiver but I don't think anyone can argue that it's just different with your spouse. I was literally in tears when he finally got home, which was just it's own emotional ball building up ever since day one. Overall, recovery has been better, (though different), since he has been home.
Since he has been home, I've gone from sleeping on the sofa chair in the living room to trying to sleep in our bed. That alone I feel has been the ongoing battle of my recovery. Walking straight has been a challenge on it's own, but when I try to sleep flat on my bed I feel the dragging of my progress haunting my thoughts. It's an amazing feeling, to have a tight stomach. Unlike some of the other women who have gone through a mommy makeover, it's not a familiar feeling at all of something that I had before having beautiful children or something like that. I've never been flat. I went from overweight to extra skin in the blink of an eye and it was like that ever since. And now the tension in my stomach almost frightens me, (though it isn't painful), to lay straight out of fear of it being too tight, and that I'm going to pull a stitch or open my scar. And when I cave and put a pillow under my legs to help ease that tension I feel like a failure at my own progress and I'm just slowing myself down on my own recovery. And now that my man is home when I get frustrated all I want to do is turn over and curl up with him, but even sleeping on my side is an impossibility.
As far as my TT incision goes... I remember going through Real Self stories before my procedure and reading about the swollen days, and trying to tell myself that if I could get power through the swinging curves that I can make it to the flat days and all will be well. Unfortunately, that's not really the way it works. Considering the compression garment that I have to wear almost every second of my day, I don't even think I would notice if I had a real day without being swollen. Every time I take it off to either wash it or change my bandages out, there is just a generic swollen-ness that I see, and at this point it's just getting depressing. I made a sad attempt to try and put on my skinny jeans the other day, thinking that maybe the lipo with the now missing skin pouch that sat on the front of my stomach and the post op swelling might balance each other out. Apparently, they don't. Jeans at an entirety are still far from my reality.
Over the weekend I really battled with trying to get myself off the prescriptions and onto just Motrin. Not that I really wanted to be off of narcotics. At first I liked the idea for the sake of not being reliant on something, but the first attempt at weening off really helped me realize that it's silly to not take pain killers if you are in pain. So, as far as advice goes, there it is. And that isn't necessarily from me to whoever has the next mommy makeover. I was waking up in the middle of the night trying to just shift myself in the slightest to get more comfortable or to ease the tension on my stomach and my husband would have to be the intelligence in my ear that if I hurt, to take the medication. And thank God I had that voice in my ear through that time. I am such a stubborn person that even through pain, if I tell myself I'm trying not to take them I would whimper in pain the whole night rather than let the thought of reaching for another percocet. Which, thought it might seem a little crazy, it's all rooted at my overall stubbornness of trying to get out of the damn house. Having my man home had been great because for a few days I was able to get out of the house for little spurts at a time without feeling overbearing on my roommate. But I knew the parade was going to be short lived once the weekend was over and he had to start going back to work. We generally don't go anywhere during the weeknights, and being stuck in the house from dusk till dawn was only being constrained by my taking prescription drugs. As soon as I was 24 hrs off, then I was free to drive myself as I so please. I think maybe at a different stubborn phase in my life I wouldn't have cared so much about such a rule, but there is also something to be said that if I am in enough physical pain to where I need to take the prescriptions, that I am probably not physically well enough to drive.
So, here I am, day 12, finally off of my prescriptions and able to take my freedom as I so please. I tackled some Costco this morning, (I know it sounds like a lot, but I made sure to go early so that I had close parking and didn't need to wear myself out maneuvering around a million people). I also had a lovely shopping cart to lean against when needed, and didn't need to get anything over a 10 lb bag of frozen chicken, so it was a pretty easy first trip out on my own.
The other day, though I didn't make any posts of my own I sought some comfort through others' posts on RS. I took advice on some non-surgical compression garments and made an order through kohls. A part of me is really hoping that maybe some spanx will get a flattering control over my surgical areas and maybe, juuuust maybe I can finally wear a pair of jeans. Even a looser pair would put a smile on my face. I'm pretty anxious for them to get here. I ordered 3, all different brands, praying that at least one of them will fit and be functional. A part of me has since been curious about just driving myself to a kohls now that I am able of my own transport but I don't think I would want to go about the efforts of a dressing room by myself. Hopefully I can teach myself some postal-patience.
Well, the majority of day 12 is almost done and I'm still crossing my fingers that maybe I'll wake up tomorrow morning and this stupid swelling will finally disappear. It would also be nice if my giant and beautiful new boobs will stop being sore, settle down to where they are supposed to be in 6 months and I can rock a bikini for the first time in my life. But I'm going to just keep on dreaming. =) Updated pictures to come!
6 days later
So, today is day 6. I have a lot on my mind. Yesterday was a struggle.
My man didn't make it home on his trip. I knew there was a chance he wouldn't make it back on time, but I was really hoping to have my second half home with me. It was just a tiny trigger of my emotions.
I got the rest of my original bandages taken off yesterday, as well as getting my drain taken out. I was happy to say goodbye to the drain, but I am pretty sad about my belly button. It doesn't look cute at all, it looks bundled and ugly. It makes me sad to look at it. It didn't really hit me until I got home. I go back to see my PS again on thursday and I'm going to say something to him about it, and I know I'm not a doctor but I'm not sure what could be done about it at this point.
Last night I really just hit my emotional wall. I kinda felt it boiling up all day, but I had gotten clearance to take a shower that morning from my PS and my roommate wanted me to wait until she got home so that she could be in earshot just in case something happened. By the time I got myself undressed and in the shower, I just was spent. Trying to shower on my own was just so exhausting, I felt like the cranky kid who played too hard at the park that day and was crying over putting his pajamas on backwards. I couldn't keep myself from crying the whole time I was in there, and what was worse was that since I was so sore the shower felt like an eternity. The PS that morning had told me to work on standing up straight more, and my shower made me feel like having a goal like that was just so far away. By the time I got out of the shower I was just in tears, luckily my roommate was there so help calm me down.
I'm ready to just take a time jump to week 2 or 3. Today is already off to an emotional start, and at this point I can't stop worrying about how I'm going to turn out.
My man didn't make it home on his trip. I knew there was a chance he wouldn't make it back on time, but I was really hoping to have my second half home with me. It was just a tiny trigger of my emotions.
I got the rest of my original bandages taken off yesterday, as well as getting my drain taken out. I was happy to say goodbye to the drain, but I am pretty sad about my belly button. It doesn't look cute at all, it looks bundled and ugly. It makes me sad to look at it. It didn't really hit me until I got home. I go back to see my PS again on thursday and I'm going to say something to him about it, and I know I'm not a doctor but I'm not sure what could be done about it at this point.
Last night I really just hit my emotional wall. I kinda felt it boiling up all day, but I had gotten clearance to take a shower that morning from my PS and my roommate wanted me to wait until she got home so that she could be in earshot just in case something happened. By the time I got myself undressed and in the shower, I just was spent. Trying to shower on my own was just so exhausting, I felt like the cranky kid who played too hard at the park that day and was crying over putting his pajamas on backwards. I couldn't keep myself from crying the whole time I was in there, and what was worse was that since I was so sore the shower felt like an eternity. The PS that morning had told me to work on standing up straight more, and my shower made me feel like having a goal like that was just so far away. By the time I got out of the shower I was just in tears, luckily my roommate was there so help calm me down.
I'm ready to just take a time jump to week 2 or 3. Today is already off to an emotional start, and at this point I can't stop worrying about how I'm going to turn out.
Provider Review
Dr. Khash Dehghan