Plastic Surgery
Without Prejudice
33 years ago I had what was considered then, plastic surgery on my stomach. I had heard of only one other person that had it and I was determined to have mine done. I had had 4 girls in six years and my stretched stomach skin resembled a deflated balloon on a hot day. I was the skinniest I had ever been 49 kilos, but had a stomach that I could haul up and over the top of my jeans. It sat gently on my thighs when I sat down.
It resembled the dangly pouch of skin after a Mother cat has just given birth and would slosh to one side when I climbed into bed. In dresses you could see it and I hated it, hated it with a passion. So I went to my GP and he sent me to a Plastic Surgeon near South Eastern Hospital in Noble Park.
He was a Mister. He looked at my flap of skin and as I was just 27 he recommended it be done and fast. he said the muscles had split and my internal organs were bulging forward. Great! But he did say I was perfect for the op as it was all skin and not skin and fat as fat tends to heal, really badly. He said he would cut and stitch the muscle and after the op I may feel a "Little Discomfort"
I had to give up smoking forthwith which I did and by the time I was almost ready to go to Hospital was a jittering nervous mess. My family Doctor said I should not have just given up cold turkey but as ever I am perverse and I had. He gave me some Valium and they made me cranky but seeing as I was cranky anyway, it didn't seem to matter.
I farmed the girls out to various friends and relatives and went like a lamb to the slaughter for the operation. On the day of the operation I had my period arrive two weeks early which created a problem for the nurses, so they just stuck a big piece of wadding between my legs and wheeled me off to theatre. I had just had my first manicure in my life and all the carefully applied polish had to come off as did my rings. I was scared stiff.
I woke much later to a world of pain. Note to self. When a plastic surgeon, Mister or not, says you will feel a "Little Discomfort", don't believe him as it is going to hurt like nothing else you have ever imagined. I couldn't move for seven days, I had to lay on my back and there were two tubes on either side of the wound draining into jars. They seemed to be full of ghastly coloured liquid but it was my body fluids draining out.
I looked down at my belly and it was almost concave, so flat it was. That part pleased me but the pain was excruciating and I was on Morphine injections. I hate needles so when I was begging for one I knew I was going out of my mind with the pain. A friend came in to see me and I asked to hold her new baby and she said, No, as I was floating at that time somewhere around the ceiling and I slurred my words. I lay in bed for 7 days straight and hardly moved, but I was allowed to eat on the 2nd day and had steamed fish and nothing tasted more wonderful.
The tubes were taken out before I went home and the feeling as the stitches were cut and tubes pulled out was weird and sore but I bit the bullet. I was excited to be going home at last and see my girls. My hubby didn't come in to see me until the last day and then only to pick me up. I walked for the first time a half an hour before getting out of hospital and the feeling was Pain, pain, pain.
I decided to be brave and not take any of the pain killers with me as I didn't want to get addicted. I had forgotten that it was the first day of the school holidays. All the girls were there when I arrived home, Lauren 2, Alena 4, Yvette 7, Debbie 8. By that days lunchtime I had piled them all in the Lemon of a Rover and drove them to School Holiday Programmes.
I went home and rang the Doctor as I had found a stitch still in my belly button and he sais to just cut the end off it and pull it through. The wound was dried crsuty blood and I took it out in the shower and nearly passed out as it bled. I am the most squeamish person I have met.
I had been told I couldn't drive, couldn't hang washing out, so I had a home help lady for six weeks provided by the Council. I was bent like a bow for a while, had to sleep on my back with legs up and over a pillow at the knees. I couldn't get out of a chair unaided. couldn't reach for cupboards over head. I could not raise my arm above my elbow and the pain was hammering at me. I was stupid to have not taken the pain killers but read above, I am perverse.
I went into a dark depression that my Doctor said can happen after General Anaesthetic and I went into a steep spiral of it and for some reason decided to bond with my dead Mother in dreams, It all just made me worse. Hubby didn't help, of course, he was too busy working 7 days a week. When the last dressings were off I looked at my body in the mirror and I looked like the Bride Of Frankenstein. My tummy swollen still stitch marks and clip marks on the flesh, I was aghast, what had I done? Why had I gone through all that pain?
I was sure that it looked worse than it had before and I cried and cried in pain and disappointment. I finally came out of the depression and was able to fit back in my clothes at long last. Without the swollen belly. My belly button had been moved and I didn't like the new one as it was to one side and looked like a tiny smiling mouth. The big scar ran along my pubic bone and was thick and red.
I wasn't going to go around saying I was upset by it all or that my Hubby wasn't helping me and seemed almost angry at me for having it done as he thought I was being "vain". I certainly wasn't, being vain, as the Mister Specialist said that the muscle tear had to be repaired or I would be prone to hernias in later life. But that was my ex hubby all over.
I went down to Rosebud at Easter with the kids to have a break and when I came back he had bought me several new Cue dresses and a fur coat. A full length blue grey long coat which was divine. I then felt a million dollars until I found a receipt for something marked M in his pants as I went to wash them.
I asked him what it was and he said it was for my dress. But it didn't add up. so I rang the number on the receipt unbeknownst to him. Massage Parlour and The M stood for massage. Of course he said it was for a friend, he had gone there with a friend and had a massage but he was lying, i knew it, so did he but if I didn't want a smack across the head I'd better keep my mouth shut about it.
To be Continued
33 years ago I had what was considered then, plastic surgery on my stomach. I had heard of only one other person that had it and I was determined to have mine done. I had had 4 girls in six years and my stretched stomach skin resembled a deflated balloon on a hot day. I was the skinniest I had ever been 49 kilos, but had a stomach that I could haul up and over the top of my jeans. It sat gently on my thighs when I sat down.
It resembled the dangly pouch of skin after a Mother cat has just given birth and would slosh to one side when I climbed into bed. In dresses you could see it and I hated it, hated it with a passion. So I went to my GP and he sent me to a Plastic Surgeon near South Eastern Hospital in Noble Park.
He was a Mister. He looked at my flap of skin and as I was just 27 he recommended it be done and fast. he said the muscles had split and my internal organs were bulging forward. Great! But he did say I was perfect for the op as it was all skin and not skin and fat as fat tends to heal, really badly. He said he would cut and stitch the muscle and after the op I may feel a "Little Discomfort"
I had to give up smoking forthwith which I did and by the time I was almost ready to go to Hospital was a jittering nervous mess. My family Doctor said I should not have just given up cold turkey but as ever I am perverse and I had. He gave me some Valium and they made me cranky but seeing as I was cranky anyway, it didn't seem to matter.
I farmed the girls out to various friends and relatives and went like a lamb to the slaughter for the operation. On the day of the operation I had my period arrive two weeks early which created a problem for the nurses, so they just stuck a big piece of wadding between my legs and wheeled me off to theatre. I had just had my first manicure in my life and all the carefully applied polish had to come off as did my rings. I was scared stiff.
I woke much later to a world of pain. Note to self. When a plastic surgeon, Mister or not, says you will feel a "Little Discomfort", don't believe him as it is going to hurt like nothing else you have ever imagined. I couldn't move for seven days, I had to lay on my back and there were two tubes on either side of the wound draining into jars. They seemed to be full of ghastly coloured liquid but it was my body fluids draining out.
I looked down at my belly and it was almost concave, so flat it was. That part pleased me but the pain was excruciating and I was on Morphine injections. I hate needles so when I was begging for one I knew I was going out of my mind with the pain. A friend came in to see me and I asked to hold her new baby and she said, No, as I was floating at that time somewhere around the ceiling and I slurred my words. I lay in bed for 7 days straight and hardly moved, but I was allowed to eat on the 2nd day and had steamed fish and nothing tasted more wonderful.
The tubes were taken out before I went home and the feeling as the stitches were cut and tubes pulled out was weird and sore but I bit the bullet. I was excited to be going home at last and see my girls. My hubby didn't come in to see me until the last day and then only to pick me up. I walked for the first time a half an hour before getting out of hospital and the feeling was Pain, pain, pain.
I decided to be brave and not take any of the pain killers with me as I didn't want to get addicted. I had forgotten that it was the first day of the school holidays. All the girls were there when I arrived home, Lauren 2, Alena 4, Yvette 7, Debbie 8. By that days lunchtime I had piled them all in the Lemon of a Rover and drove them to School Holiday Programmes.
I went home and rang the Doctor as I had found a stitch still in my belly button and he sais to just cut the end off it and pull it through. The wound was dried crsuty blood and I took it out in the shower and nearly passed out as it bled. I am the most squeamish person I have met.
I had been told I couldn't drive, couldn't hang washing out, so I had a home help lady for six weeks provided by the Council. I was bent like a bow for a while, had to sleep on my back with legs up and over a pillow at the knees. I couldn't get out of a chair unaided. couldn't reach for cupboards over head. I could not raise my arm above my elbow and the pain was hammering at me. I was stupid to have not taken the pain killers but read above, I am perverse.
I went into a dark depression that my Doctor said can happen after General Anaesthetic and I went into a steep spiral of it and for some reason decided to bond with my dead Mother in dreams, It all just made me worse. Hubby didn't help, of course, he was too busy working 7 days a week. When the last dressings were off I looked at my body in the mirror and I looked like the Bride Of Frankenstein. My tummy swollen still stitch marks and clip marks on the flesh, I was aghast, what had I done? Why had I gone through all that pain?
I was sure that it looked worse than it had before and I cried and cried in pain and disappointment. I finally came out of the depression and was able to fit back in my clothes at long last. Without the swollen belly. My belly button had been moved and I didn't like the new one as it was to one side and looked like a tiny smiling mouth. The big scar ran along my pubic bone and was thick and red.
I wasn't going to go around saying I was upset by it all or that my Hubby wasn't helping me and seemed almost angry at me for having it done as he thought I was being "vain". I certainly wasn't, being vain, as the Mister Specialist said that the muscle tear had to be repaired or I would be prone to hernias in later life. But that was my ex hubby all over.
I went down to Rosebud at Easter with the kids to have a break and when I came back he had bought me several new Cue dresses and a fur coat. A full length blue grey long coat which was divine. I then felt a million dollars until I found a receipt for something marked M in his pants as I went to wash them.
I asked him what it was and he said it was for my dress. But it didn't add up. so I rang the number on the receipt unbeknownst to him. Massage Parlour and The M stood for massage. Of course he said it was for a friend, he had gone there with a friend and had a massage but he was lying, i knew it, so did he but if I didn't want a smack across the head I'd better keep my mouth shut about it.
To be Continued
