melting mama

My plastic surgeon fired. Dr. Loren Borud.

I think I will be putting that abdominoplasty on hold.  I need to find a new plastic surgeon. 

My doctor was just fired.  His house is for sale, and he's long gone.  Video from WCVB Boston  Dr. Loren J. Borud, 44, was fired Friday.  In fact, it was the gossip for WEEKS how Dr. Borud was on a "Family Medical Leave" for his "Ailing Family Member" out of state.

An immediate family member has had $100K worth a lot of plastics with this man in the last year (plus many thousands of dollars worth of complicating issues) and they have been waiting, with bated breath for his return.  She tells me that he's coming back, that he will be cleared of all of this, that it's all a big mistake. 

She goes further, stating that no matter what the allegations are, she will follow his practice, wherever it re-opens, with other patients of his, who have been "told" (by Dr. Borud's former staff, why they are telling people this, I don't really know, do they expect us to hang on and wait for his triumphant return?) that this whole thing has been made up to ruin him.

From The Boston Herald:

Dr. Loren J. Borud, 44, was fired effective Friday, the hospital said in a statement. The firing came two days after the Herald began inquiries into two previous allegations of impairment involving Borud that date to 2001. Two medical sources said Borud had been disciplined internally by the hospital twice in the past seven years.

The Board of Registration in Medicine, which investigates complaints against Massachusetts doctors, has been notified, the hospital said. Borud was suspended June 30 following a June 27 incident at the hospital, said Kenneth Sands, the facility’s senior vice president of health care quality. He would not say when the decision was made to fire Borud.

He also would not specify the nature of Borud’s “impairment.”

Yes, this man is responsible for my husbands' plastic surgeries and my mother in law's never-ending plastic-surgeries.  What?  Look here.

I misdiagnosed.

Bob's mom is inpatient in the hospital, and apparently, it's not a clot.  It's cellulitis.  (Still hurts like a bitch.)  The infection is in her leg, right next to a healing scar from her thigh lift from exactly two months ago.  She's had troubles, but every surgery has been long healing and arduous for her.  She was just back to work, after having been out for a long time for the various plastic surgeries, and all of the healing issues and "vertigo*," etc. which she still has.

(*Since I make a habit of diagnosing people, I STILL say this woman has a sugar problem.)

I'm not a doctor, but I play one on the internet.

MIL calls my husband earlier today while we're car shopping, she says she's twisted her knee, and it hurts something awful, and she's in bed.  She goes on to say that the leg is swollen, tender and she's miserable.

We really didn't think anything of it - considering she has just recently gone back to working after being laid up with her complicated plastic surgery issues - maybe she's just done too much.

By the time we get to the house to pick up the kids, she's in bed, with the leg up.  I ask her to pick up her leg.   "Twist your knee.  Bend it.  Bend it the other way."  She looked at me like I was nuts, and said, "No, I sprained my knee, I can't move it, I'm not going to.  She picked up her leg, and bent it pretty easily, and twisted it without a problem.   I touched the area near the "sprain," felt that it was super-hot and raised, and she yelped when I pushed the area.

It's got to be a blood clot.  (I'm super aware of this, because I am waiting for it to happen to me.  I have the legs of an eighty year old woman, and I have pain in my veins that you wouldn't believe.)

I told her, "I really think this is a blood clot."   

You never saw a woman in pain move so fast.  She's at the hospital now.  If it is, and she had laid up all night, and potentially all day tomorrow - or longer?   One never knows.  She had no idea that she could have been dealing with a clot.

I'll update later.

Puffy.

I figured it's time to update on the various plastically rearranged people. 

First off, Bob is entirely healed, and it's a done deal.  His results are perfectly acceptable, and I would recommend belly skin removal for any MALE SPECIES after massive weight loss.  While he's got some chub and whatnot still around the middle, it's nothing that couldn't be helped with exercise.  You would never, ever know this boy was 370 pounds. 

As for the thigh-lift results?  I never saw the need for it - so I can't say that it's all that exciting.  I hate the scars on his legs, they look like an accident gone wrong, and when he's wearing shorts, and you catch a glimpse of the scar jutting down, it's a bit scary.

After all this, he is still not ever going to go without a t-shirt in the pool, because he's still got excess skin on his man-boobs and love-handles, and now he's got scars on his legs to the knees.  But, to have lost that belly-flap, that alone was worth it.  He's now in a 33 waist.

Now, MIL isn't doing so hot.  I can't remember how long it's been since she had her newest go-round of plastics, but she's spending every few hours hooked up to her moon-boots in bed.  She's had a horrible time of edema after this set of surgeries.  Her legs swell up like balloons the moment she hits the floor in the morning, and she's got to use the compression boots every few hours to push the fluid out.  She also has developed a ton of fluid collection in her abdomen, just below the breast lift scars.  I would guess she is carrying about 15 pounds of excess water right now, it's bizarre.  I sort of avoid mentioning her issues because, everything seems to go a little bit wrong, every single time, with everything. 

She's still not completely right since before - dealing with severe "vertigo" issues since she collapsed after her previous plastic surgery - she's not driving - not working much.  She'd lost her independence nearly completely, indirectly, because of the WLS and subsequent plastics.

Seeing her in bed like a puffer-fish doesn't make me all that excited to run and get my procedures done.  I can wait.

"My Beautiful Mommy" - Kids' Book on Plastic Surgery?

I thought this was a joke, this book about plastic surgery meant for kids to read.  It's not.

I mean, it's an everyday occurrence in our extended household with four immediate family members who have had gastric bypass, but, we haven't needed a book to discuss our floppy jello jiggler bodies yet.  The kids just know, it's because We're Not FAT Anymore.  The fat used to fill the skin, the fat is gone, now the skin droops, get over it, here, play with this baby!

"What's the market for a children's picture book about moms getting cosmetic surgery?  No one specifically tracks the number of tummy-tuck-and-breast-implant combos (or "mommy makeovers," as they're called), but according to the latest numbers from the American Society of Plastic Surgeons, breast augmentation was the most popular cosmetic surgery procedure last year, with 348,000 performed (up 6 percent over 2006). Of those, about one-third were for women over 40 who often opt for implants to restore lost volume in their breasts due to aging or pregnancy weight gain."

This book follows a Super Mommy through a tummy tuck and nose job, because apparently pushing babies out of your vagina screws up your nose.  This Mommy who is in desperate need of a Mommy Makeover Super-Deluxe Version (It will happen, soon enough!) will not be bringing home a book to explain my bandages.

When the anesthesiologist was checking to see how the calming medications were working on my mother in law, he asked her, "So, what are you having done today?"  She replied, "When I come out of there, I'mma have a flat stomach and some big boobs."  The anesthesiologist smirks and says, "Is that what you worked out with the doctor?"  MIL says, "I Worked It Out With Him Alright!"  *wink wink, nudge nudge*

She's home, and wants food.  She's "starving, come over and cook for me."

Bob went over this morning, and he came home and showed me jazz-hand motions of her boobs.  "They're like, ROUND, and BOOM."

All in all this time, she got boobs, upper belly, thighs and a fix of the face lift.  I should HOPE she's done.

The fun never ends.

I should probably say that this post is a paid advertisement for Dr. Loren Borud, but it isn't. 

I get a lot of keyword searches for him, my blog is on the first page of Google results for his name, and I feel a slight twinge of guilt because most of the folks that are out there Googling for Plastic Surgeon information are landing on pages sometimes that look like they might be filled with angst and complications, and they really shouldn't be.  When I searched on my own, I landed on a page that said, "death," and I was all, "wait, ain't nobody died!" but that's the way searches work - they pick up words on a page together and give you a result.

Now, why is my blog on the first page of results for his name?  I don't know - but - I am starting to think it may be in direct correlation to numbers of procedures occurring within his office that are directly related to me. 

How are they all related to me?  Well, it's all my fault.  I had WLS first.  MIL swore she'd "NEVER DO IT, EVER."  She saw Bob & I have success, and she did it.  Now, she's all skinny and poop and having everything lopped off, and that is indirectly my fault.  Oops. Let's review.

MIL's procedures with Dr. Borud:

• Panniculectomy
• Abdominoplasty
• Full lower body lift
• Butt lift + lipo
• Brachioplasty, both arms
• Face lift (Waddle removal)
• Revision of waddle removal
• Thigh lift (Today.)
• Upper body lift/breast lift (I don't know what she's having done, but it's happening right now.)

The Spouse:

• Panniculectomy + Muscle Repair
• Thigh Lift
• Cyst Removal

SIL: (When closer to goal. She's already discussed it.)

• Panniculectomy + Hernia Repair ASAP
• Other things WILL follow, I know it.

Me (In the future, 6+ months or more because I'm a medical mystery, and I'm broke.):

• Panniculectomy/Full abdominoplasty
• Boob job
• Brachioplasty (I said I didn't want it done, but I can't possibly go FOR life without wearing a short sleeve shirt, so I'd like this done at some point in the future.

I know I've referred to some of these procedures by the wrong term, but, any of you post weight loss surgery people know what I am talking about, but **JESUS H. CHRIST WOMAN, NO WONDER people are looking for answers on your bah-laaawg. 

(Oh.  I never intended these things when I started spewing on the internet.  Take note, kids, what you say can and will be held against you, the end.  I don't mean anything really by that - it's just that - once you use a name on the internet, it's cached like, forever, and it will keep coming back.  Then again, it can work out in other ways, like the T-Shirt says, "I Will Blog You," so be nice.)

I guess this was the long way to post that "Yes, she's having more plastics today."  I will continue to blog the experiences good or bad or indifferent, because that's what I do.  So there. 

*PS.  Don't even try to price that out, it's giving me an anxiety attack.

I'mma call em mud flaps.

 
He is healed.  The beatings can commence.  Except now he is obviously in need of a boob job.  What do you think of this?

If he doesn't lift his breast-tises for you, the belly falls down and caves in on itself.

The thigh lifts, are like a mullet.  Business in the front:

Party in the rear.

I assume all is healing as is expected.  This is my first time watching someone heal from plastic surgery first-hand, other than MIL, and that's just Somethin' Else.

Another round of plastics.

Not us.  Not right now, anyway, although I did tell you that my husband doesn't look "right" yet, that he will probably require an additional procedure if he wants to regain a somewhat normal appearance.  As for me, I will go for my panniculectomy as soon as I am sure that I am unlikely to seize on the operating table, since I already have the insurance coverage.

It's the udder Meem, and I think I am going to refer to her as Meem from now on, because my mother is Mimi.  I don't think I ever mentioned why both grandmothers are "Mimi's."  When I had my first daughter, I was quite young, like eighteen.  (Shut up.)  That makes my mom a very young old lady, she was just 40 I think? (Am I close?)  She didn't want to be a "Grandma, Gram, Granny, Gran" or whatever else old lady grandmothers are called.  That's where Mimi comes in.  She started referring to herself as Mimi and it caught on, and the kids called both grandmothers Mimi.  Meem never liked it, although it's different, everyone in her family used "Gram."  She got used to it, and the kids have always called her "Mimi," but she spells it "Meme," who knew she was an internet questionnaire?  But, anyways!

Meem is going back to the plastic surgeon in four weeks for another round of plastic surgery. 

Another.  She's had  brachioplasties, a lower body lift with super-hot butt injections and a face lift.  I didn't share with you that she just had her face-lift revised because it did something, I don't know what, but she felt it needed revision.  This time, it's a thigh lift.  Big surprise, since she's been watching Bob progress pretty uneventfully with decent results, and she wants her floppy legs gone too.  This was a somewhat spontaneous decision, and she says she wants the thighs done because she's "going on a cruise" in late summer and wants to be able to wear shorts, and maybe a *gasp* swimsuit!

This woman is now like, ten pounds lighter than me, having been nearly four hundred pounds. 

She's a peanut, in a size eight. She's giving me her "old" size TEN pants, which I can't get over my fat ass.  (Gotta love it.)

The concern is, of course, will she have complications again?  After the last round of surgery, she developed some serious "vertigo," (and was in bed for months) which I have wondered about the entire time - if she wasn't a reactive hypoglycemic.  (She wouldn't listen to me, if it were the case, as the doctors have dubbed it vertigo.) 

After this procedure, I anticipate a lengthy bed rest with lots of infection and sickness, because that is what has happened in the past.  I am not sure she recalls that it's been no good for her after her plastic surgeries, but the thought of 'shapely hips and thighs!' has convinced her that it won't happen again.  I am wondering if she shouldn't just come home with an IV of antibiotics and a visiting nurse prophalactically.  (Is that a word?)

The kids would prefer that she weren't in bed all spring, also, seeing as she's got almost all of her energy back, so they do not approve.  But, it's not their decision to make.

Did I mention all of this has been entirely self-pay?  I know most of you out there have had self-pay plastics, but GAWD!  Okay.  I'm done.  On with your reading.

It really does take a full body makeover to fix up the melted candle look post weight loss surgery.

My husband is headed to the plastic surgeon for his weekly check up post panniculectomy and thigh lifts.  If you're a new reader, my husband had weight loss surgery nearly four years ago, and lost two hundred pounds.  He went under the knife for a panniculectomy and thigh lifts in January.  It was sort of rough, with lots of body fluid leaks, and well, gender + race changes.

It's been nearly six weeks since he was cut up, and I think we can safely say he's healed.  There are no residual spots of open leakage.  I didn't take any new photos of his scars, but they look much better and are fading quite a bit.  I caught my legs on his leg scar in bed last night and it scratched me, but didn't make me gag and retch and roll away like it had been.  (I'm easily irked.)  I think he will be just fine.

Now, because I am entirely too overt about things, here's my not-necessarily-that-you-asked-view:

If money and time needed for healing were not an issue for our family, he needs more plastics. 

(What I am saying is that if it were possible, I would suggest he go back for a few procedures, now, but it isn't going to happen in the very near future, or maybe not ever, because it really wouldn't be a priority.) 

We were warned that what he had done was not going to fix everything in one fell swoop. 

Most massive weight loss plastic surgery patients will require multiple procedures to bring the body to at least a reasonable facsimile of what it might have been before the obesity.

In general, the post massive weight loss body can be brought be a decent shape with brachioplasty (upper arm lift/reshaping) thigh lifts, lower body lift (which addresses the entire circumferential area of sagging skin around the torso:  belly, back AND buttocks, depending on the surgeon) breast and upper body lift.  Also, for some, a face or neck lift, which seems to depend on age and amount of weight lost.

A few post massive weight loss patients are perfectly content with the droopy skin and excess flesh at various areas of the body, and learn to accept it and live comfortably with it.  Many find it hard to accept and more difficult to hide, and choose to have plastic surgery to try to at least resemble a normal body shape.

For my husband, he said he would be content with a "tummy tuck" and thigh lift, because those were the areas that drove him crazy.  Anything else he could live with.  He applied for insurance coverage for the pannus area, and was initially denied and then approved after two appeals.  The panniculectomy surgery was covered by health insurance, and the rest of the procedure (an abdominoplasty), and the thigh lifts were self-pay.  I will say it again, if money and time off for healing were no issue I would send him back for the other half of a lower body lift.

Why bother? 

After his belly was taken care of, the excess flesh above the umbilicus and the excess from the back have migrated.  He still has a chunky upper belly and loose, fleshy back and love handles.  We were aware of this possible result, and that is why doctors suggest the lower body lift to us post massive weight loss folks.  My suggestion - if you can afford it - get the lower body lift to begin with, avoid going back to the operating room later on.  I realize most people end up with various procedures to get the desired result, and it's likely to take a long time to get there.

Just like weight loss surgery, post weight loss plastic surgery is not a magic bullet.  But, it does make you purdy.

Today is my surgery day.

Today was supposed to be my plastic surgery date.   It's just fine that it isn't happening, because I didn't lose weight like I was supposed to for this momentous occasion.  In fact, I have gained. 

Yes, I am being slightly sarcastic because, I knew that, Plastics Were Like, So Out Of The Question when I woke up in an ambulance asking a paramedic how my "tummy tuck went?"

"Wait, what?  I'm not having plastic surgery today?"  I was so confused when I woke up in the ambulance.  I was laying on the cot, thinking that I had been given sedatives to relax pre-operatively for my panniculectomy surgery.  It wasn't until later in the Emergency Room when I realized entirely that something was askew.  What was I doing in the hospital?! 

Oh.  Now I'm having seizures?  Why?  One month later, I still don't know, but plastics aren't happening today.  Yes, it sucks, I was ready to move on get it done.  But, what a way to teach me to wait until I have every penny SAVED for what I want done - correct?

Healin' Powers.

It has been a month since Bob had his plastic surgery.  He's back to work full-time, and has been for a while, except for when Beth imploded last week and he got a call to come home and make sure she wasn't losing brains out of her ears.  I have sort of glazed over his recovery lately, because we have been slightly concerned my brain was actually going to fall out. 

So, here's your update, since you asked so very nicely.  I have the healing powers, and healing up just fantastically.

Here he is, a month after a panniculectomy, would you know he used to be 370 lbs?

From the profile, he looks nearly "normal" at this point.  From the front, not yet, since he's got scarring of course:

I bet the belly will flatten more and become more aesthetically appealing once he ceases muffin-top consumption and maybe adds a little exercise.  Seeing as the stress level in our house is at one billionty percent, we're not really freaking out about such things, but you must know.

For the round male readership.  Lissen up. 

You must know, the panniculectomy and/or abdominoplasty works miracles.  There's no nice way of putting this:  You will lose your mangina, FUPA, or whatever you personally have termed  "describing of the phenomenon common with men and women so afflicted by obesity that their pubic area is used to store patches of fatty waste." 

That's all I am saying on this public blog.

/End speech to round male readership.

His thighs have healed quite well, also, and one month ago I would have sworn he'd be holy forever.  Today, it seems that the holes have closed up nearly entirely and he's looking more streamlined and less Frankenstein'ed.

He's still wearing gauze and tape over a few sections of the incisions, as there are spots that still weep a bit.

Mmm, scabs!  This is a gigantic improvement to what I showed you previously, he's practically healed and moving normally.  He wears the abdominal binder every day, and feels more comfortable with it on, seeing as his ab muscles have been stitched together.  He's wearing size 33 pants today, four years after his WLS and one month after plastic surgery, I guess it's a success.

Seromalicious!

A couple of you had asked how Mr. MM is doing, and have called me a super nurse for putting up with him.  Fact is, I don't help, I'm a terrible nurse.  He's perfectly capable of taking care of his YUCK alone.  I help him re-wrap his abdominal binder, but that's it.  He can deal with his own leakage.  Yes, if he were sickly and needed help, I would do it like a good little nursey-poo, but he feels "fine."

In fact, he's driving to the hospital right now, alone, to have an ultrasound on his belly because, wait for it...

I think he's pregnant.

Seriously.

He's so swollen, it looks and feels like a 16 week pregnancy. Considering his plastic surgery was three weeks ago, and he looks three or four months preggo I think we have a problem.

It's a seroma.  Sometimes serum is secreted beneath the skin and this leads to a collection of fluid called a seroma. If severe, surgery or aspiration of this fluid is needed.  Now, I don't recall if I mentioned, he already had a big needle shoved in his non-FUPA for this removal of fluid about a week or more ago.  Today, they're going to ultrasound, because I think there's a fetus in there, too.  Then, they'll shove a big syringe up in his new uterus and suck all the blood and pus out.  And, if necessary, a drain to suck some more out.  Slurp!
 
He's got so much fluid in there right now, that if he presses on his belly and you have a hand above his pregnancy, you can feel the fluid swoosh and up and, it's icky. 

It seems that seromas are super-common after plastic surgery, so if you're in the market for post weight loss re-constructive surgery, be prepared for the likelihood of this problem.

Update:  He had four needles worth of blood sucked out.  No drain was placed, but he was groped inappropriately by a radiologist and came home to bitch about it.

His Holiness, holy-ness?

26 days to go?  I think?

Also, I'm not so sure I should be counting down so triumphantly if His Holiness doesn't heal properly before my turn arrives.  Yeah, it's a possibility that I will not be able to have my surgery.  We knew this, I'm totally aware of the fact that he must be well enough to physically handle Her Babyness pretty much on his own before I get my belly lopped off or boobies stuffed in.

Holiness has two connotations:

1. He's sorta holy.  His inner thighs have busted open.  Yum.
2. He's sorta like The Pope, sitting, waving, not sayin' much, and probably should go live in a bubble.

This morning, before he went with the baby to be sat upon, I asked him if he thought he might just want to stay overnight at their house, considering, he's sort of useless to us at home right now.  The look on his face?  :/

"That's not really what I meant, I meant that you can't really DO anything, aside from laying around, and the kids are driving you crazy, so, why not, right?"

I mean, he laid there while I scooped up the dog poop, took out seventy hundred barrels of trash, to the street, moved furniture around, vacuumed, did laundry, two loads of dishes, made a pork roast and sent everyone to bed early because our "temporary living room" (it's a bedroom, used as a living room for now, since we are SO cramped in this house) is off limits.  We'll call what is going on with this house, "spring cleaning," but it's just stuff that has never been finished

We're having some painting done in the house, and that room was not usable last night, and that's where The Chair is, too, so Bob was sent to BED last night.  "Go. To. Bed."  Once in bed, I instructed him to lay there, spread eagle - to let his open wounds breathe.  He was no help to anybody, except The Cat - who decided it was a good place to lay, on the heated blanket with His Holiness.

Then, the dog puked.  More dog vomit than I've EVER seen in my life.  It was like she ate an entire bag of Ol' Roy, and regurgitated it, not even digested in the least.  She puked in her crate, which is good, but then I had to clean it up, because His Holiness isn't able to.  But, Wait, Beth can't handle puke.  I hyperventilated and called for him.  He came up and assisted me in getting the chunks up into a trash bag, and I washed the floors.  Had it been at all covered in digestive juices, I would have lost my own dinner onto the floor.  But,  I didn't.  The Lime-Mate helped, and I'm okay.  (Love the Lime-Mate.  Send me Lime-Mate.  I love Lime-Mate.  All natural citrus oil air freshener.)

Later, I crashed in bed with the lap-top and His Holiness to watch The Biggest Loser be preempted by election coverage.  WHAT IS THIS?!  AN ELECTION YEAR OR SOMETHING?!  He laid there, like a lump on a log, aghast at the calorie challenge on TBL last night, (hello, corn dogs?) and went to bed.  Even watching TV isn't very fun right now with him.  He's a stitched up mess.  But, I digress.

Tomorrow, we go to Boston for his one week check up.  I may ask the doctor to keep him.  Just put him in an anti-septic bubble.  Let him heal, without the distractions of life in general.  I need him better, yesterday.

Bob said to me yesterday, "You know, you're the type that would put me in a home."

Graphic panniculectomy photo, a few days post-op

Before:

And...this here is sort of icky stuff.  Beware.

This is my husbands' oh-so-sexay belly a few days after he had an abdominal plication, panniculectomy and thigh lift.

I'm sorry, was it time for lunch?

Super-fun this week? "Beth, hold my drains so I can take a shower?" "Um, okay."

Okay, now for some explanation.  The knife wound up top - that was a cyst that was removed during surgery, he did not get cut up in a gang fight pre-op.

The thigh wounds - from the thigh lift.  Photos of those to come, I have to take some.  They aren't looking so hot today, we're waiting to see if they're perhaps getting infected.

Bob's before and afters.

I've been threatened not to post them, not by him, but by other people.  "Don't!  No!  I can't look!" (Hi, Gloria!)

But, you need to know these things. 

Perhaps, if only to stop you from having that third donut.  (She said only half sarcastically.)

This is the punishment for gaining up to many pounds and losing the weight:  Lots of excess skin and tissue that really does need to be surgically removed.  This is not pretty.  This is not fun.  This is not glamorous.

I'm slightly overwhelmed by his appearance right now (stop laughing, it's not the black and blue balls *hehehe, I said blue balls*) it's because he's all bruised, and bleed-y, and drain-o, and icky and GROTESQUE.  There I said it - he's gross.  Eww.

He looks like a magic trick gone wrong, horribly wrong.  He's cut from ass to stern and back and again.  It's, just, icky.  Add to this, the swelling, and it looks like things just aren't where they should be.

I'll post some photos when I make them more suitable for actual posting, okay?

Not tonight, dear, my balls are black like rotten grapefruits.

Seriously though, I didn't know that was a side effect of plastics, but it's funny as hell.

I didn't want to leave the grape-fruited ball man in the recliner last night, but at some point I gave in and went to bed.  I woke up to find him taking his bandages off and asking me to help him take a shower.

"Bob, it's 4am, can it wait?"

"GO!  Back to your chair!  Now."

Oh, yeah.  I suppose when you sleep most of the day, showering at 4am seems normal. 

Let it be known, Beth Will NEVER Be A Nurse.  Props to all the caring medical professionals out there, I ain't gon do it.  I have no tolerance for any sort of whining.  I am compassionate and I do care - but - when it comes to recovery from this kind of situation, You Asked For It.  You wanted this.  You wanted this pain.  Hell, you PAID CASH FOR THIS PAIN.  You like the pain.  Rawr.

(Yes, I realize that in 31 days I will be in the same predicament, probably quivering in the corner, because I don't like pain medication.  But, imagine the pain-med blogging I could do!  It would look a little like this:  "Hiyagang i hadpalstic suuuuuurghery yestahdaey an Im feelin okay Im feelinng goooooooooood but its huuuuurts."  Although, sometimes I see postings that look like that on a good day, including mine, because I never edit, spellcheck or re-read what I write.  :x )

Bob, back to your chair.  (He is, his mom is babysitting him today - because I have to work and make dem dollahs, I've made a big dent in my necessary plastics cash - and I hope to scrape up at least part of the rest.  I can do it, damn it.)

botched plastics - new vulva and new skin color.

He's home, and approximately 45 minutes ago he took an Oxycodone, and looked like this:

Is it any wonder people get addicted?  Just before that, he was standing, holding onto the granite counter for dear life, moaning about The Pain, It Really Hurts.  Then, he told me that it's not even the pain for the five million stitches that are holding him together from hip to hip and, uh, cheek to cheek - it's "gas, really bad gas."  So, I gave him a Gas-X, and some Milk of Magnesia that he won't sip, then an Oxycodone, and he went back to what will be known as Daddy's Chair from here on out.

(You'll note that I am writing this post backwards, because, he's currently under the influence and Not Pacing around me, and it's quiet, hang on, the good part is coming.)

So, his mom and dad bought a recliner, because when preparing to bring him home - we realized that there is nowhere in this house to sit upright comfortably.  This house is so small that we cannot fit a typical couch, and we only have an IKEA super compact square couch, that is entirely straight backed and there is zero pillowing on it.  So, just as I was considering running to La-Z-Boy and putting a chair on my credit card, Meem showed up with one wrapped in plastic.  Thank goodness, and also, my father was on his way - to bring us a chair that he used after he became Part Man - Part Transformer with his two fake hips.  The man now has a place to sit his fat bruised, battered and bleeding ass.

Technically, his ass isn't bleeding, but his thighs are just gag-inducing.  I have yet to see any incisions, as he's in bandages until tomorrow, but I get the gist of the nastiness.  Blech.   His belly is under a binder, and seems "okay" at this point, and he's really not complaining of gut pain, and he's walking nearly upright - though he resembles a caveman that Rode A Donkey Just A Little Too Hard.

(Hold on, there is a funny part to this.)

One problem?  He cannot sit on the toilet.  It's super-low, and even with the emergency installation of a toilet lift seat (another of my parents' leftover gadgets from Papa's transformer surgeries) he can't sit and go.  He sits on the thigh incisions if he sits to poop.  So, there will be no pooping in his near future, this could get upsetting.

(Okay, I told you there would be something funny.)

This morning, while he was at the hospital, and I was in the car driving to the bank, I got a text message:

"My peeeeeeeeee is black and...."

I got nervous, DEAR GAWD THE BOY IS PISSING BLOOD!  I call him, and fast.  I say, "Why is your pee black, are you peeing blood?  Are you dying?"

He replied:  "No, my, uh, 'pee' is black and blue."

Me, laughing, very inappropriately:  "So, they did listen to me and slip?  Or did they really give you a vulva?"

He didn't laugh.  I let him know that I was glad he wasn't urinating blood, and I hung up.

But, he flashed me when he got home,  his teabags have swollen into two grapefruits and are going to take over the world, and they're totally black. 

Guess he was sorta right when he told me that his vulva was swollen, he was jus a lil confuseth.

PS.  Just heard in the other room:  This medicine gives you a warm feeling all over, eh?  Oh, now I'm hearing bells, that's funny.

Oh Christ.  What a week this will be.

botched plastics?

Bob called here this morning from his hospital bed, to let me know that he's
"Not comind homed today, my vulva is swollen." 

Okay, I know he's on morphine, maybe he's a little bit confused about what they did to him in the OR?

"Bob, VULVA?  Excuse me?"

"Da back of mah froat iff fwollen, and dey need to weeen me off of da painkillahs."

To be honest, we might be better off if he stays there till he recovers, no?

plastic surgery bloggin'.