Submitting to my wonderful OBGYN’s hints that it was time
for me to move on and bother another doctor recommendation to see a
specialist, I finally went to an appointment today with an expert in wound
healing: a plastic surgeon.
I don’t know exactly what I was expecting. I was afraid he
would say that there was nothing he could do, however my OBGYN had indicated
that he might be able to cut away the bad scar tissue in the shape of a vertical eye,
and sew me back up again, much nicer than before, so I think I was hoping for
that. I even glanced at my calendar on my way out, to see what day next week
would work best for us.
The plastic surgeon seemed like a good doctor – young,
intelligent, friendly, confident – much like my OBGYN. After pulling out a
couple of stitches that had made their way up, out of my abdomen, and were
poking out of my skin (I know, right?! I mean, really?!) and inspecting my
wound, he however gave me some pretty bad news: he can’t do anything until I am
100% and beyond healed, which will take at least six months.
Six months of looking like a freak?
Sigh.
And I won't even be here in six months, so it will be
more like in a year.
Double sigh.
But then he told me the good news: when I come back in six
months or a year (even better, he said) he will give me a full tummy tuck,
getting rid of the scar entirely. Our insurance will pay for it, because of my
wound history. I didn’t know what to say. I wasn’t even sure what a tummy tuck
was, and his brief description did not entice me, since surgery right now isn’t
exactly at the top of my Things I Want To Do list. But then on my way home I
thought about it and how nice it would be not to have to look at this huge,
ugly scar all the time. I texted a friend who also has carried and given
birth to four children, and her response made me think that maybe it’s
not the worst outcome, “A tummy tuck?! You are SO LUCKY!! I want one too!!!” In
fact, I thought, if you ask any woman who bears the marks of multiple
pregnancies on her abdomen, “How would you like for me to give you a 25-year
old’s tummy again?” a lot of them would probably answer in the positive. Then I
ran into another friend who made all kinds of exciting exclamations when she
heard my plastic surgeon’s name. Apparently he’s quite famous in the region,
and people come from abroad all the time just to have him operate on them.
So maybe it’s fine.
What would you do?
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