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Removing my Ruptured Breast Implants
Here’s the tea on my surgery day, and my subsequent healing journey
I want to tell you that I marched into that anaesthetic room, braver than ever, to boldly claim my health back.
What actually happened was the anaesthetist had to knock me out with gas before getting a line in, since I was so scared to go under that even my veins had retreated into the darkest recesses of my inner being.
Going into surgery, relinquishing control of your body like that, IS a big deal. So yeah, I didn’t so much stride to theatre, as drag myself slowly. Then once on the trolley, I tried my best to engage the anaesthetist and nurse in a long conversation — just to buy me more time in the land of consciousness.
But out came the gas, and my control over the situation began to fade away…
Waking up without my implants
In the recovery room, I was super grateful that the anaesthetist had taken me down so expertly. I was on the other side of the surgery and could now focus on my healing journey ahead.
This was something I had been looking forward to since getting my implant rupture diagnosed at the end of last year. I had a host of associated symptoms, and my health had become a daily battle.
