3:14 a.m. - 2004-06-11
Bye Bye Boobies, Part One
Welcome to the first installment of the lengthy story of what I've been up to for the past ten days. Stay tuned for the rest of the story in the next few days.
On Tuesday, June 1st, I woke up thinking that June was going to be a bit of an uneventful month. Stuck in the limbo of waiting to move out, waiting to get married, and waiting to figure out what on earth we’re going to do with the car when my sister moves to Calgary, life was sort of in a holding pattern. Even the most basic of things were difficult to do – I couldn’t make long term plans for things when I didn’t know what my financial situation was going to be, I couldn’t figure out whether I’d need the car to get to work or not when I didn’t know where I’d be living, and I couldn’t buy a wedding dress because I didn’t know what size I was going to be come September.
That last one is where the story starts. You see, I knew that buying a wedding dress was a waste of time, because I could absolutely guarantee that I’d be a hell of a lot smaller by the time any aisles needed walking down. Not because I’m on some crazy bridal diet, but because I was scheduled for breast reduction surgery on September 23rd.
When I went in to see the doctor, I was really hoping that I might be able to have it at the end of May. After all, I had two weeks between jobs – the timing was perfect. But, unfortunately, his schedule is obscene, and I had a four month wait between my appointment and my scheduled surgery. Still, I’d be waiting more than two years to find a time when I could have this surgery – another four months wasn’t going to kill me.
Last Tuesday, that all changed. I got up to find a note from my dad saying that the surgeon’s office had called, so I quickly called them back to find out what was up. They told me that they’d had a few cancellations, and offered me two new dates: August 5th and June 10th.
After blinking rather a lot of times in succession, I told them I’d have to check with work and get back to them. Work. Where I had had exactly one shift so far. It’s a little simpler starting a new job when it’s really just a transfer within the library system, but that didn’t change the fact that my bosses didn’t really know me at all. Still, I figured it was worth a try, sent off an email to the assistant manager, and hoped for the best.
And then remembered that the assistant manager had taken two days off. Realising that haste was necessary in this situation, I tracked down the manager, who I’d met exactly once – at my interview. She was absolutely wonderful, told me not to worry about it and take the earlier surgery date, telling me she’d work out the details and figure everything out. Unfortunately, by the time I talked to her, the doctor’s office had closed for the day, so I left a message saying I’d take June 10th, please, and went scurrying out to get the necessary physical down at the medi-center. And to freak out about having surgery in nine days.
I was awoken the next morning by the phone. Glancing at my call display, I saw that it was the doctor’s office phoning back, and I quickly woke myself up and answered.
“Oh, we gave away June 10th already! Sorry!”
I stared at the phone, angry as fuck even though I’d known it was a possibility that they’d do exactly that. They’d said absolutely nothing about it when I talked to them the day before – said it was fine that I needed to check with work, instilled absolutely no sense of urgency about the situation.
I was pissed.
So I gave the woman on the phone hell. I told her that I and many other people had rearranged our lives to get that date, that nobody had told me that there were other people offered the same date, that I was extremely unhappy and unwilling to stand for it. I was not rude, but I was firm. And I was damn proud of myself for not backing down. She offered me a date in July, one that would totally NOT have worked, and tried to get me to leave her alone. I wouldn’t. Eventually, I mentioned that I had wasted two hours the night before in a medi-center so I could have my physical done in time, to which she replied “wait, you’ve had your physical already? Just a minute.”
She came back a few minutes later. “We’ve got an opening tomorrow. Can you take it?”
I seriously nearly passed out at that point. Going from having surgery in four months to having surgery TOMORROW was fairly substantial, but I knew that getting it over sooner was in my best interest. She said she’d check with another woman who was scheduled for next Thursday to see if she could take the appointment the following day, and she’d call me back in a few minutes. It was 10:15. The hospital had to know who was having surgery the next day by 11:00.
I tried to track down my manager and talked quickly to my mother, who calmed me down and assured me that she could work around tomorrow. I watched the clock. I paced. I freaked out at a few people online. Finally, the woman from the doctor’s office called me back and told me the other woman couldn’t take tomorrow. I hadn’t talked to my manager yet, but given how good she’d been about the other time, I figured I would hope for the best and take the time. Almost as soon as I told the woman I’d take it, my other line beeped with a call from my manager, who gave me her blessing and was absolutely wonderful about it. (I sent her a thank you card the next day, because she seriously went above and beyond for a new employee.) Clicking back to the other line, I took notes on everything the woman told me and dazedly hung up the phone. I tried to get ahold of my mother, my father, everyone, but nobody was around. I freaked out at people online a little more and then went to get organized.
I went out shortly thereafter, in anticipation of working at 1:00, to pick up important things like sports bras for post-surgery wear and Buffy Season Six to amuse myself with. I stumbled around in a daze, periodically talking to people on my cell phone and making plans. I choked down lunch, knowing that I needed to eat, and headed off to work. Fortunately, work was extremely pleasant and surprisingly relaxing – probably the best thing to take my mind off everything. I talked to Jamie on my coffee break – he too was surprised but supportive, and pointed out that this was probably the most Sarah-friendly way of doing things. (Which he was totally right about – I’m absolutely awful for anticipating things, and anything is bound to be worse in my mind than in reality. Not giving me four months or even four days to brood over this thing was the absolute best way it could have happened.) Later, on my lunch break, I talked to the hospital and got everything sorted out, including my surgery time: 12:20 pm. I had to be at the hospital at 10AM, which was extremely civilised. I picked up some nail polish remover (can’t have surgery with nail polish on, and I’d just done fingers and toes for the wedding the weekend before.) and choked down some Tim Horton’s soup and a tea biscuit.
Once I got off work, I went home and paced around a lot. I talked to my parents, explained the situation, made plans, called more people. I talked to the Raisin, explained why I wouldn’t be coming down to Calgary over the weekend, and did a bit of squeaking. Ok, a lot of squeaking. Jamie came over. I paced around some more and wondered how on earth I was going to fill the evening when, God bless them all, my friends showed up. They informed me that they’d come to say goodbye to my boobs, and proceeded to hang out on my deck and distract me from my thoughts with gossip, laughter, and general wonderfulness. If this experience has taught me anything, it’s that I have the most wonderful friends and family in the entire world. They have all been so, so great.
After a delightful evening, my friends (and sister, who was with them) left, bidding my boobs farewell as they walked away. It was still only about 11:00, so I proceeded to drink another gallon of water before not being allowed anything at midnight. Jamie, wonderful WONDERFUL person that he is, stayed for hours afterwards, making sure my mind was kept off things and that I had everything I needed. We took “before” pictures, talked, and did other excellent distracting things that were certainly a fitting farewell to certain areas. He stayed well into the night even though he had to get up in the morning, and I’m sure he kept me from losing my mind. After he left, I packed up my bag, posted a few things online, and went to sleep. (If I’d thought about it, I would have taken the time to appreciate sleeping on my side a little more. God, I hate sleeping on my back.)
I got up earlier than I needed to in the morning and paced around some more, reading the paper, surfing the net, and feeling really really thirsty. I took an extra long shower and braided my hair tightly into two braids – excellent surgery hairstyle as it allows you to lie on your back quite comfortably. I killed some time on some websites, freaked out at some online friends, and finally got dressed and double checked everything in my bag. We dropped off Dad at work, and headed for the hospital.
