I find having breast implants ridiculously funny. I don’t
know why but if they aren’t making me cry, they are really making me laugh. The
lack of jiggle, the phantom nerve pain, the asymmetry -when they are synthetic
so totally should be symmetrical, the fact that you have a card specifying what
lot number your new breast is, the realization that they aren't flotation devices
(flotation devices?) when one would think that they would be. Trust me, there is a lot to
laugh at for me. But I am finding that not everyone with reconstructive
implants finds the same humor quite so therapeutic.
I was laughing this week about how anyone with implants or
who works in breast reconstruction should keep a “high profile smooth round gel
implant” on their desk as a paper weight. Right?!?!?! Wouldn’t that be a hoot simply
because you can? (Yes, I have no doubt this is not Shark Tank worthy, but it has the potential to be...well funny...to me anyway.) It’s like the tshirt slogan “Yes they’re fake, my real ones
tried to kill me!” I like to find fun in the not so fun. It keeps me from
falling apart in circumstance. Usually as I find myself in any given circumstance I try to be
sensitive to others there with me on the boat. But as I was chuckling at the idea of the implant
weight out loud on the phone with a colleague while I was shoving paper away from my desk fan, I realized for many
people reconstructive implants are probably anything but humorous. Looking
death in the face can very easily change your vantage point and I need to be
careful to keep that in mind. So I’m trying to be more mindful that not
everyone uses laughter to get though life and that some people may very
seriously love or detest their implants for exactly what they are – implants –
nothing more nothing less. Simply a necessity to get from this side of mastectomy
to the other. And that my vantage point
may be a bit irreverent, or harsh, or selfish. Not that this changes my
perspective, just that my perspective may need to sometimes be….less...or simply maybe more selective in how, and when, and to whom it is verbalized. Thankfully, I do
consider my blog a safe place in that people can choose to read or not to read,
but I need to remember that when discussions occur in person, choice is
removed.
I may have made a snafu (it was really hard to tell if I did or not). I’m
back peddling. And I’m teachable.
(But I would buy the paper weight! And I would laugh every time I saw it orchestrating gravity on my desk. I just might not choose to let everyone see it, particularly if they underwent mastectomy. See? Teachable.)
(And if this is the first blog post of mine you have read, please choose another as I promise I have better words to provide.)
(And if this is the first blog post of mine you have read, please choose another as I promise I have better words to provide.)
