A pound of flesh

My operation (masectomy) took place last Thursday, July 18th. I chose not to have a reconstruction because I am allergic to antibiotics which are used to prevent infections when using sillicon implants. So the operation only took an hour and a half and I woke up shortly after.

The next morning I was discharged. From the first moment, I felt fine. Painkillers and paracetamol help, but some days I go without taking them and I feel fine.

Our friends Brad and Alec came from San Francisco to visit and provided ample distraction. The heat was unbearable, reaching 40 degrees, without air conditioning.

After a week, I’m getting used to looking in the mirror and seeing the scar. It is s-shaped and quite high on my chest. Below the scar the surgeons left a small bit of breast that was not affected.

It turns out they had to remove more than expected. I asked how much, and the surgeon said 521 grams. That is a pound of flesh. I think back to what Portia said to Shylock in The Merchant of Venice. You may take a pound of flesh, but not one drop of blood more. So that is what it feels like, although I’m very glad medical technology has improved since Shakespeare’s day.

I did some online shopping and found two very pretty prosthetic bathing suits by Sunflair, so far so good.

Have a great summer! I still owe you a post on my trip to Europa Donna in Milan in June. Will be coming shortly.

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