RBJ and a Barf Bag

 It’s been thirty years since I got breast implants. Having birthed and nursed two babies my boobs were left looking like tube socks sporting tennis balls in each one dangling from my chest. At twenty-eight years old, living in the world that put so much importance on outward appearance, I thought that I needed enhancement to feel better about myself. Looking back, maybe it did serve its purpose for a while. But, I was never truly comfortable with them. They were larger than I wanted and I’m fairly modest so I don’t like the attention I thought they brought in my younger years. Shopping for clothes, especially swimsuits has always been a challenge for me. All those cute summer dresses made me look pregnant and bras were very uncomfortable.

I’m not anti-plastic surgery, implants or whatever. I’m just older and in a different stage in life and view things from a more Godly perspective now that I seek His ways for my life. I’ve known for several years that the implants in my body needed to be redone. They aren’t meant to stay more than ten to fifteen years. There is a lot of chatter that the newer ones are causing illness among many women. I knew I didn’t want to replace them only to get sick or have it redone again in another ten years or so. That’s a lot more maintenance than I want for my life. So, after much thought, support of my husband, counsel from a dear friend and yes, prayer; I decided to have them removed entirely. My daughter in love name it, Reverse Boob Job or RBJ. 

I do believe God cares about everything. I needed His guidance in this and even requested He give me the right Dr. I really wanted a female that was qualified and would do a good job. He provided and I knew it was in His hands once I left the office of my initial visit.

One of the things I sort of knew about myself but haven’t done much to correct is that I’m not one to ask for help. I saw a post on Instagram the other day that said “My toxic trait is I won’t let you clean cause it’s not clean unless I clean it…but then I’m irritated at you for not cleaning” Yikes. That hit home more than I care to admit. I wonder if my husband and kids would agree? I’m working on that. Working on letting go and letting others help me. So, when my sister offered to come out to help post surgery I said yes! I was hesitant because I don’t want to be a burden on anyone. She would have to take time off work, arrange for pet care for her beloved dog, Dutchy and move her schedule around. But she was more than willing to do that for me at a moments notice. I was relieved to have her come out. 

The surgery, while a success, was more than I had imagined. I don’t do well with anesthesia

and pain meds. They all make me barf. I came home with drains that required emptying and measuring the fluid output. I don’t do well with this kind of stuff either. I faint often. Especially if I’m in pain, dehydrated or in shock. I was in a bit of pain and most certain my body was in some stage of shock from the trauma it just underwent. It’s weird but I know when I am going to go out. 

I was in a chair while Jim was behind me holding my shoulders and my sister on drain duty, in front of me handling it like a champ. One of the things you need to know about my sister is she has a heart the size of Texas. And that heart of hers rises to the occasion to serve whenever and wherever needed. She jumped right in and went to work. Then I got that feeling. That feeling when all the blood goes from my head to my toes, I get a little clammy and know that I’m going dark and there is absolutely nothing I can do to stop it. I have never seen what it looks like but I’ve been told it’s scary for those watching and experiencing the event that they too, have no control of. I always try to warn, “I’m going out.” Jim knows this about me so he knows I'm serious. I felt his grip on my shoulders intensify. And then I was in a dream state hearing my name over and over, just like all the other times. “Connie, Connie, wake up. You’re ok. Connie” I think for all of us, it feels like thirty to forty minutes. But in actuality, it’s probably just a few seconds. I woke up to Kris wiping my face with a cool wash cloth and soothing me to reality. I remember thinking, “ How sweet of her to even think to grab a cool wash cloth” she didn’t panic, she just went into action. I was so thankful  to have her there especially when my next words were “ I’m going to throw up”. She was right there with a barf bag in hand. She really makes a great nurse and I can’t imagine having gone through this without her. 

In those moments I wasn’t thinking about being a burden so much as I was being grateful to have people in my life that don’t see me as a burden. They love me and care about me and my wellbeing. Those closest to me that knew what I was going through. They weren't judging me. They were praying for me, texting and calling to check on me, bringing me and my family food. It is a beautiful thing and makes me a want to be a better friend. It would be easy to say, this is a trivial thing, superficial even and I don’t want to bother anyone with it. But as my sister reminded me and displayed it to me, people want to help. Most of us just don’t know how. We aren’t all Kris’ who have the gift of caregiving. But I do believe we all have the desire to help. We have been given the gift to connect with each other.  God saw to that when He created us. We aren’t meant to go it alone. None of it. Not life or the big and small details that life seems to throw at us. 

What I am taking away from this is that: I want to be a better helper, better at helping ease the burden of others and show up in the details of life. Either with a meal or a barf bag. Thank you to those of you who continue to teach me how. I Love you for it!

Pressing On  

"Just as each one has received a gift, use it to serve others, as good stewards of the varied grace of God" 1 Peter 4:10