44. Operation Number 4 – Nipple Reconstruction

I have no more excuses and arrive at the hospital for my afternoon procedure. It will be carried out under local anaesthetic but still in the operating theatre. I wait with my mum in the hospital room with a sense of déjà vu - Giles arrives bearing his marker pen. I query whether my cleavage is passing the awaited two-finger test – I don’t think it is and he agrees that some help will be needed from either a supportive bra or some Sellotape. I’m not quite sure what to do with this information, so decide to park it for the time being and focus on the next few hours. Giles also takes the opportunity to manage my expectations about how the new ‘nipple’ will look – it will shrink as it heals, and may even go flat. It’s more of a focal point for the breast, to create a sense of normal. I’m not hugely encouraged but assume that I have nothing to lose and, if nothing else, the length of the scar should be reduced slightly as it is pinched together to make the new three-dimensional shape.

I walk down to the operating theatre with the nurse who hands me over to a colleague at the door of the theatre. I haven’t seen the inside of the operating theatre in my previous procedures as the anaesthetic is applied in an antechamber. It feels strange to be walking in and making my own way to the table. The radio is on and the staff are chatting amiably, but the tone changes slightly as the surgeon arrives. Giles is efficient but relaxed. It feels more like a trip to the dentist. I am covered in green paper sheets and am behind a screen so can’t see what is being done to me. The local anaesthetic works quickly and I feel only a pulling sensation. Occasionally I feel a little panicky – mostly at the weirdness of the situation – and can hear the heart monitor start to increase its pace. I work hard to consciously slow my breathing and find it comforting to hear the monitor slow down (until I’m made to tell a joke and realize I can only remember one from my primary school playground, aged 9). I tell a rubbish joke, Giles tells a rude joke, the procedure is finished. A round sponge-like dressing is applied with a hole in the middle – Giles says there may be quite a lot of blood. He tells me that my left nipple is quite upstanding and as a result the new one looks slightly lower – ‘wonky, you mean?’ I ask. ‘No, just slightly lower, so we might want to offset the tattoo slightly when you have it done, to even out the appearance’. Expectations duly managed, I’m wheeled back to my room where my mum is waiting and I go home after a cup of tea and some biscuits, armed with paracetamol.