11. The One with the Plastic Surgeon

 Last time we left off with me leaving the surgeon's office with

A diagnosis

Pending Surgery

an anticipated call to schedule said surgery


and a promise that the plastic surgeon's office would be reaching out soon.


As luck would have it, they called as I arrived home.

Could I come in on Monday at 7:00 a.m. to meet him?

Sure, apparently the rest of this 'journey' was going to involve early mornings so why not?

And did I really think I was going to be sleeping at all between then and the surgery?

Ummm.... NO


So that all set up, I knew I had a fair few people to update. 

The quarters

My boss

The few other folks I had told

and.... Josh (the Mud Puddle)


again, at this point he knew there had been follow up but not the why.

And I had come close to telling him a couple of times before this. I had lunch with him one weekend in September and almost blurted it out then but didn't because we were having such a nice day.

No reason to piss on our parade with chatter about cancer.

But now I had to tell him. 

And I had to be strong about it, I am the mom after all.

He and I have been through it all together and obviously he is the best part of my life.

We are close and not in a Norman Bates' kind of way (probably). We speak the same language, have similar reactions and genuinely enjoy being around each other.

Making plans for him to come home for Thanksgiving and winter break, a spreadsheet has been started of all the things we will watch. We have been saving shows and movies until we are back together. 

And let me tell you what, the ONLY person I would save my beloved Jungle ("I'm a Celebrity Get Me Out of Here") to watch with is him.

We have spent countless hours giggling and screaming at the tv while enjoying B list British celebrities navigate the challenges of the Australian bush. Our mutual love of fish guts and Witchetty grubs goes all the way back to 2009, when we first watched together.




Many of our conversations are peppered with phrases we have picked up watching that show.

"EVENING Prime Minister!"

"Kacking your knickers"

"Oh sweetie... this is not a high five moment"

"the Wahts Dougie... THE WAHTS!"

Whenever we rib each other, we make sure we both know it is banter (BANTAH) like we learned from the show.

Now, my favorite British radio DJ (you didn't think I didn't have one of those, did you?) is in the current season of the show and I am beyond excited to see it all go down. 
BUT better than that, is watching with the Mud Puddle when he returns home.

All of this is to say, that while we have a great relationship as mother and son, we also genuinely enjoy each other's company. He is definitely one of my best friends.

And I don't like to burden him. Regardless of our close relationship, I never want to put too much on him as a friend. 

What went down in the end of my marriage I kept from him. It is his dad after all but he doesn't need to carry the pain I felt And I know he would. 
That is just the way we are with each other.

So I screwed up my courage and gave him a call that Saturday.
All started off well enough, I told him about the follow up tests and the results.
I explained I was in the best hands possible and that it would be one and done.

I tried to keep it together, I really did. But in the end my emotions got the best of me and I had to put the phone down to try and pull myself together.

This was not fair to him. For the love of God, he had been through enough. We have had our fair share of shitty things. 
And given that he had graduated from high school and started college during a pandemic and was still not fully 'normal' meant that I felt he was already getting the short end of the stick..

One of the things I learned fairly quickly when we realized all the things he should expect but were not going to happen was that I had to stop putting my expectations on it.

I had a senior prom and a graduation and that summer of fun before college.
He didn't.

But because he didn't, he didn't know what he was missing. 
Unless I was constantly reminding him of how bad it sucked.
Once I stopped doing that, we just got on with it.

I pulled myself together (kind of) and he said.

"I am so sorry, this is not fair."

And I lost it all over again. In my mind a child should not have to worry about a parent at his age.
Ironically, I do not hold that same view when I am the child... but you know goose and gander.

Once we talked through what was going to happen and I promised to keep him updated we got to talking about the usual stuff and that made me feel better.

Over the course of the weeks between that phone call and the surgery, he would randomly text he loved me or he was thinking of me.
And that made all the difference.


I made it through that weekend, telling who I needed to tell. Packing for the impending trip to our Mid Year Sales meeting and doing my best to keep my mind off it. Lots of rewatching of favorite movies (most of them 80s horror, we were in the midst of the scary season after all) and nap taking. 

I am always up for a good nap but in this case, sleeping the afternoon away gave me some respite from the endless loop of 'what if" and 'what next" whirling around in my brain.

Monday rolled around and my mom and I found ourselves once again at the surgeon's office bright and early. 

We go back to meet the plastic surgeon and he comes into the room, and what strikes me immediately is what a kind, caring man he is.

My generalized expectation of plastic surgeons had me expecting something more like this:


(Nip/Tuck for those that don't know. that little show Ryan Murphy did before Glee and American Horror Story? Yes, it was memorable).

But what I got was a sweet man with a wonderful bedside manner who made it clear he was going to take great care of me.

He did the exam, was apparently impressed with their symmetry and said that he believed he could get me to a place post surgery that was very close to where I was now.

He would need to evaluate whether or not an expander would be necessary when he did the surgery. He started to explain, but I said I understood. 

I asked some questions about incision, nipple death odds, size of implant and return of sensation, over or under muscle, and drains
He kind of cocked his head as if to say 'and where did you come up with this?'

The answer to which is watching "Botched" on E. 
Assuming he was not familiar with the show and would not be impressed with my encyclopedic knowledge of reality tv, I just awaited his responses. 
All of which satisfied my request for information. 

He took some pictures, asked if I had any other questions and told me he would see me on surgery day.

And not to hesitate if I had any questions or concerns.

I left knowing I would be in great hands. 

Next on Kris vs. Cancer: The one with the pre surgery potpurri
















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