Today I met with the plastic surgeon. I was expecting an older man (being that he's a cancer survivor). Instead I met Dr. V who couldn't be more then 10 years my senior. He was easy to talk to and handled things with the right balance of matter of factness and humour. He answered all my questions and joked around with me. He laughed at the idea of me getting blue star areola tattoos. "We can do that if you really want it" he said.
He didn't say a word when I showed him the pictures of the boobs I want, until I made a joke about it being soft core porn. He laughed and said that he's seen it all and hadn't even noticed. Ben had to point out it wasn't porn but an Italian film (Cemetery Man).
I feel very comfortable having him as my plastic surgeon.
My MRI went about as well as a breast MRI could go. The tech and I had a good laugh because my breasts wouldn't fit through the hole on the table and she had to practically tug them through. I made jokes and had her laughing pretty hard about it. She felt bad but it was too funny not to laugh at.
Things that you wouldn't think about on a regular day. But I have my red lipstick. I have courage and with that I can do anything.