How Silicone Breast Implants Affected my Vision (I've Never Seen Myself More Clearly) by Cindi This is a story about my experience with breast implant surgery and consequent explantation, which is dedicated to the lovely ladies at explantation.com, who have been a light outside my camp, and who are no doubt the same to many others. I have not a reason in the world to tell my story. What I will gain by doing so is an increased hope that it may help another girl who finds herself contemplating the future of her upper portions. I wish such an opportunity had presented itself to me before I made the decision to undergo breast augmentation. Or, I wish I had demonstrated the wisdom to research with more veracity before moving ahead with the procedure that changed my life forever. But, would it really have made any difference? I don't think so. Stubbornness is not a pretty quality; certainly not as pretty as the breasts I knew I wanted. And I was going to get them, no matter who tried to dissuade me. All those who love me tried. I was 25 then, and a mom to the most precious little boy ever born. I was blessed with everything wonderful, but couldn't recognize it, because I could not accept the perfectly healthy, natural body that I had been given. I could only look at myself in the most negative way. I treated my body with harshness and disdain by comparing it to others, and willing it to be more thin, more voluptuous, and more of everything I saw around me which portrayed feminine beauty. Awe. No one could tell me differently. I trotted off to the plastic surgeon on a mission. I went straight to the top, to one of the most expensive and celebrated surgeons in Dallas. Looking back, all the things that impressed me then are ludicrous now. His office was sleek and his waiting room full of North Dallas elite. His wife, who also serves as Office Manager, was very receptive to me and my cause, as was he. They represent everything I wholly disrespect now. But at that time, they were esteemed by me. They were the ones who would grant me what I then thought to be beautiful. Whatever small amount of physical self esteem I had when I walked into his office was gone when I left. I wanted larger breasts in the worst way, and was willing to pay top dollar for them. He referred to my breasts as deformed, and gave me a diagnosis of hypomastia. I don't blame him for my decision. It was mine to make. However, after our consultation, I was convinced that augmentation was not simply a desire, but a necessity. I told the surgeon (or, self proclaimed artist) that I didn't want to be too big, just normal and natural looking. I wanted to be proportionate. But he said that I should go as large as possible, because if I didn't I would regret it, as so many of his prior patients had. He said once I experienced what it was like to have large breasts, I would love it and would want to be as large as possible, and perhaps even come back later to make them larger. He said that with my skin being so tight, he could go only a finite amount bigger anyway, so that I should take as much advantage as I could. I believed him. A doctor is defined as "a person licensed to treat diseases or physical disorders." I still haven't decided....was he a doctor? He recommended the new polyurethane covered silicone implants, because they were the best money could buy, and they would look the very most natural of all implants. They would retain their softness and have the least likelihood of contracture. I was naïve (I'm being kind to myself,) but I did ask about their safety, and he said they were very safe. I specifically remember him telling me that the polyurethane could not break down unless it was exposed to very great temperatures. He said the temperatures would have to be greater than the human body could endure before the polyurethane could break down and enter the body. Therefore, it was a non issue. Beyond that, he said there are risks with everything we do in life, and the same holds true for implants, but that really it never amounts to anything. I believed everything he said, and left feeling so very embarrassed by what I now believed to be my small, deformed breasts. I could not schedule that surgery fast enough. I have to say, the surgery was pretty uneventful. I didn't have any problems other than the nausea that always accompanies anesthesia for me. I've heard so many horror stories now about messy surgeries. I am thankful that I fell into the hands of a skilled, if morally flawed, surgeon in that regard. I was also fortunate not have any immediate adverse reaction. I healed quickly, and I loved my new body. I was a full C cup. I had no complaints and heralded my augmentation as one of the best choices I had ever made for myself. I was thankful that he went larger than I had originally requested, because I liked having breasts. I really liked being able to fill out a bra and wear clothes I had never been able to wear before. I felt like I had bought myself a couple of new friends, but I didn't know they would turn into back stabbers. With Implants I was always conscious of their fakeness, and pretended to myself that it didn't matter. My ears tuned up whenever I heard anyone talking about implants. I was defensive of them and my choice. I wanted to believe it was not a stupid thing to do. Sometimes that was a hard sell. One night I was watching Dennis Miller with my husband. It was just after the controversy ensued about the dangers of silicone. Dennis said something to the effect of, "Gosh, you mean the stuff they use to adhere toilets to the floor is dangerous to place inside in the human body? Duh! Who knew?" I couldn't laugh at that one. Our room was silent. I don't know where I would be without my grandma. Even though I ignored her wisdom, she was always there for my son and I, and knows us better than anyone. She's the one who was with me every single day, before and after surgery. She took care of me after the surgery she adamantly opposed. She attests to this day that I have never been the same, health wise, since my augment. I never saw it. The changes were so gradual and I didn't recognize that they could be attributed to my new breasts. I categorically denied that any symptoms I acquired were due to the implants. Only a month after implantation, my friend called me and said that she read a small article in the paper which asserted that polyurethane implants were dangerous because polyurethane was shown to cause cancer in laboratory rats. I called my surgeon who explained that away. He said that the rats were placed in conditions under which humans would never find themselves. My fears subsided. The biggest change in my health at first was the onset of headaches, but I was a single mom, and I was stressed a lot. That was easily explainable. I felt tired a lot, but doesn't everyone? I began grinding my teeth to the point of damaging them, but again, I had a life full of pressures. Through the years, my headaches increased, along with the fatigue, and my TMJ worsened so that I was grinding holes into my night guards. I kept having to replace them. My dentist couldn't believe it. Then, my menstruation stopped; it was a hormonal thing. But I never once gave a minute of consideration that any of these things could be related to my implants. In fact, when I saw the controversy emerge regarding the safety of silicone implants, I disregarded it and thought that the women complaining were just whining. I saw my surgeon on television defending silicone implants, and I supported his assertions. As I tiredly trudged through the years, I met my wonderful husband and we wanted to have a baby. But I couldn't conceive, because I had no regular cycle. We went through fertility testing and found that my prolactin level was very high, which can cause infertility. A high prolactin level is common among women with implants, for which there are several possible reasons. One reason is that any disturbance of the chest wall, including breast implantation, or disruption of the nerve paths can send signals to the brain to increase prolactin production. The reason I was told that my prolactin level was elevated was that my nipples were protruding more, the implants were pushing them out, and they were therefore being stimulated by my clothing. It seems that my body believed I was already nursing a baby because of this, creating a high prolactin level, therefore ceasing my periods and causing me to be unable to conceive a baby. So we went through (costly) fertility treatment and seven months later, praise the Lord, I became pregnant with my beautiful daughter. I am now 38 years old and I haven't had a menstrual cycle (which was not pharmaceutically generated to induce pregnancy) since I was 26 years old. I think this was the first time I was ever concerned about the safety of my implants. I wanted to nurse my baby, but even the tiniest risk to her would be too great. So, I started researching, and speaking with some very informed chemists who thought it would be interesting to do some testing on the milk once my baby arrived. I took samples just after my daughter was born and shipped the frozen milk to a laboratory in Michigan. The testing was $500.00. And very happily, all the tests came back absolutely fine. There was no silicone or polyurethane in my milk, so I could begin nursing my daughter. I couldn't produce enough milk to sustain her without supplementation (which was not an issue with my first baby) but other than that all was well. My only fear about my implants had subsided. My headaches continued to increase, some of them incapacitating. The headaches came almost daily. I remember coming home from work so utterly exhausted all the time, but I thought well, I'm a mom, I work, I'm so busy, naturally I'm tired. I just thought it was normal. My grandmother helped take care of me. For some reason, I took it to be normal that I should need her help. I don't know why I couldn't see it. I wanted to play with my kids, be a better wife, and a more vibrant, participating human being, but I was so very very tired. About nine years post implant my symptoms could no longer be denied. Among other things, I had a horrible aching pain in my ankles and legs, and that was new. I thought I might have injured myself somehow. I went to the doctor, not thinking much of it really, other than that it was odd. She asked me questions that caused me to realize that I hadn't really felt good in a long, long time. I felt sick all the time. I had swollen lymph nodes in my neck. I ached all over, and I had such a heaviness in my chest. But somehow, I still just took it to be normal. I thought I was just burning my candle at both ends. But the doctor said she wanted to run some blood tests, and soon she called me to say there were abnormalities. She said my SED rate was 72, and that I had an ANA rate of 1:320, with a speckled and nucleolar pattern, and that she recommended that I visit a rheumatologist. I remember that she called me late on a Friday, and I was astounded that anything could actually be wrong with me. What is a rheumatologist? What is an ANA or a SED rate? And why was she mentioning words like Connective Tissue Disease, Lupus and Scleroderma???? I had never heard of any of these tests or terms before. I was in shock, and I didn't know what any of it meant. I wouldn't be able to speak with a doctor again until Monday. Oh my. What a weekend we had. Without being able to speak to a doctor, I consulted the internet to try to find an understanding of these terms. I entered the words Connective Tissue Disease into the search engine. Several of the short descriptions, much to my surprise, suggested a connection between autoimmune disorders and, oh my goodness, silicone breast implants! I was so frightened. I remember standing at the kitchen sink that night when a sudden magnitude of emotions flooded. How could I, how could I? How could it be that I could have caused my own self to be sick, to hurt myself, for something so stupid? They're just BOOBS for heavens sake. Now I have these two precious children, a wonderful husband, a life so full of blessings, and I am going to have a disease to contend with? Self inflicted? I fell into my husbands arms and I don't remember crying harder ever in my life. He did his best to console me, and continued to do so (between my episodes of denial) for the next three years or better. Before I was able to get an appointment with my rheumatologist, I started to research the prospect of explantation. The information I received from various plastic surgeons was also various. I was told that I would certainly need to re-implant, else be deformed. I was told that my breasts would look like empty tube socks. I was told that the procedure would be very difficult because of the polyurethane - that there would be extensive "scraping," and that sometimes this could release more of the industrial toxin into my system. I was told also that perhaps I should just leave them alone. I wasn't sure what to believe. I called my original surgeon's office to inquire about removal, and I was treated quite differently by the surgeon's wife than when I had called so long ago. All the care that had been earlier displayed was gone, and was replaced with a cold tone of voice. She was overtly defensive and said that there was no way the implants could be causing my symptoms, but in fact symptoms like mine were also propaganda and often used to propel lawsuits. And she asked if I was planning one. That was the least of my worries. I just wanted to know what was happening to me, and who I could trust to tell me the truth. I was so scared. I didn't create symptoms in my mind for monetary gain, and the insinuation of such made me feel even more afraid and vulnerable. I asked if she could send my records to me, and she said it would take at least three months to do so. I had to call several times before they finally arrived. I was dismayed to read from them: "This patient came in requesting that she be as large as possible, even though we emphasized to her that this would almost definitely involve some sensory loss medially and laterally if not the nipple area of the breast due to the size of the implant she was requesting." It was posed in such a way as to discredit me, perhaps to discourage or preclude any kind of lawsuit against them, which seemed to be their main concern. I surely recognized that my well being was not a concern to them. I soon made it to the rheumatologist, who told me that there was no evidence to show that the implants could be the problem. I was so very relieved. I felt that I had been intellectually redeemed, but actually, I had been given another chance to deny the truth. Now I could allow myself to again believe that all the allegations against implants were unfounded, just as I wanted to believe. So I decided that I happened to be one unlucky enough to get Connective Tissue Disease and Fibromyalgia, although I had been as healthy as anyone could ever be before my implants, and as healthy as the other members of my family. As symptoms worsened and new ones arrived over the next three years, I saw numerous doctors and took new prescription after new prescription. I went through every rationale there is, about how or why or even if this was truly happening to me. I tormented myself with fears of what this could become. I couldn't get out of bed sometimes and the other times, I felt like crawling back in. I can honestly say that I can count on my fingers the number of days in the past three and a half years that I was not contending with chronic pain. I find little notes in drawers all over the house where I have scribbled symptoms with exclamation points where it is written, "what is wrong with me???" My problems included headaches, at least four per week. I experienced night sweats, and would often wake up in the night drenched. I had swollen lymph nodes, and still have one on the left side. I had dizziness and memory loss. The memory loss became very disturbing and I could not trust myself even to turn off the oven. I often felt like I was walking around in a fog. I had very severe fatigue. Any and everything on my list seemed like a mountain. Sometimes I would think that I would just cry if I had to even change out a roll of toilet paper. There was a heat inside that is hard to explain. It was a burning, like from the inside moving out. I had a face rash, but only once. I had severe urinary frequency. The neck, back and shoulder pain was the very worst of all, if for no other reason than the cumulative effect of it day in and day out. That pain never went away and sometimes included tingling and numbness in my arms and hands. My fingers hurt and I didn't feel strong anymore. I couldn't open jars or sew. A very disheartening symptom which I only now understand, was the loss of faith in myself. I felt that I had been conquered, whereas before nothing could ever stop me. I was never one to say "I can't." But I felt beaten, and I accepted it as a personal defeat. On days when I did feel stronger, I would vow to out-will it all. And then the next day I would not have the strength to do it, and I would feel sorrow. I wondered if I was mentally weak, and if that might be why I was losing to the pain and horror of it all. Maybe I just wasn't tough enough, or thankful enough. Maybe it was all in my head in the first place. I received steroid injections in my back, 8 of them each time, to help with the pain. I took 15 pills each night, and my children saw me do it. They wanted me to get better, and I wanted to crawl in a hole because I did not want them to have a sick mom, or see me feeling that way. My wonderful husband took up the slack. He took the kids to church and he took them to fun events, while I stayed home most all the time. Then he would come home and rub my back at night, or do whatever he could to help me to be more comfortable. He fulfilled the vows he made regarding sickness and health, for better and worse. How blessed I am to have my husband. I only recognize now the extent to which I ceased to live my life as a mom, a wife, an individual, and how much he filled in the empty spaces. I am also blessed to have a stay-at-home job. My responsibilities could be met from my room if need be, and they could be met at any hour of day or night. I believe my job is a blessing - that God sent it my way because He knew I would need such a position to help us through. I began my stay-at-home position exactly two months before I first went to the doctor and received the abnormal blood tests. That is when the opportunity presented itself to me. I don't believe in coincidences that accurately timed, but I do believe that God knows what we need before we ask. His amazing love has brought me through every bit of this. In August, 2001, I was having a normal day with just my regular pain which had become a part of me, when a very sudden onset headache came. A pain, almost electric, began to ascend up the back of my neck, slowly enough for me to recognize an ominous growing intensity. The only way I can describe it is to say that I felt there would soon be an explosion in my head, and there was. The pain was more than I have ever felt, ever ever ever! I truly believed this was it for me - that I was having a stroke, or an annuerism, or something awful. My head was throbbing so much that it was actually moving without my control. I was home alone, with my dog who stayed right beside me. (Dogs!) I stumbled over to my bed and fell across it, holding my head while it was throbbing into the pillow. I started to cry and pray. I asked God that if it was His will, to please save me. I wanted to stay with my children and my husband so much. I could imagine my children going through the stages of their lives and I wanted to see it all. And I wanted to be well while doing so. The pain did not stop, but I truly feel that God led me to pick up my keys and drive myself to the Emergency Room. I didn't even wear my glasses and I'm blind as a bat. He drove me there. The Emergency Room doctor said he thought I had either had an anneurism, or that I had meningitis, so he ordered a spinal tap. He botched it so the test couldn't come back clean. He admitted me into ICU where I stayed for a day, then went into the hospital for 4 days. The final diagnosis was that I had a few small blood vessels burst in the occipital lobe of my brain, along with severe cluster migraines. I needed to have a blood patch for the botched spinal, and because of these things, I was to lie flat for about two weeks. During that time, a lot of healing took place. My headache subsided, and while I'm sure it was wrong to do, at that time I completely stopped taking all my medications. I haven't taken any since. I had been shown what needed to happen. I think that all along at some level I knew that I should undergo explantation, but couldn't let myself realize it for some reason, and my fears were very great. I worried about what kind of pain would be involved, was it really necessary, and what if explantation could make things worse? I worried about how I would look, and about my husband, who never knew me before my implants. Any guy with an ounce of sense will say it doesn't matter, which is what he always said, but did he really mean it? And regardless of whether he meant it in his thinking mind, could I be attractive to him in a non-thinking physical way? I wanted to be attractive to him still. All these things clouded my mind before. But those clouds began to clear and so much became transparent after that day in August. I really believe that my healing was not just for my headache, but it was all inclusive of mind, body and spirit. Whether or not I was close to dying that day doesn't matter, but what does is that I truly thought that I was. Many things looked different to me after that. I needed to give my body a chance, in its natural state, without (suspected) poison or medication, to heal. I felt that I had been given the go ahead from above to let my miracle body, a gift, do what it was designed to do which is to thrive. And although I still didn't fully believe that the implants were causing my sickness, I wanted them out. Regardless of what pain would be involved or what the outcome, I wanted them out. I was tired of worrying about them, tired of thinking about them, tired of looking at them, tired of wondering about them, tired of everything about them. If they were causing my symptoms, or if they weren't, I did not care. Because now, I began to regard my implants themselves as a symptom. They themselves were a symptom of an ill ness, which was the discontent I had held for so long with my natural body, and my natural self. I recognized them for what they were. Finding Dr. Edward Melmed in Dallas, Texas was just another blessing on top of a blessing on top of a blessing. He made me feel comfortable while instilling confidence from the moment I met him. He is a doctor in every sense of the word. He has an exceedingly warm smile, which he offers unselfishly. While feeling calmed by his pleasant demeanor, I learned from him about other women who have been through very similar experiences as my own. He showed me pictures of explantations, and he showed me actual implants at different stages of deterioration. He explained the importance of removing the implants en bloc, and he also took the time to listen to my every concern. He explained why he believes implants are not healthy for our bodies, and the vast improvement of so many women who have returned to their natural breasts. Though he didn't need to, he discouraged me from re-implanting. He discussed with me the idea that beauty is subtle, and soft, (two words that I would not use to describe breast implants.) This was very unlike the perspective of other plastic surgeons I had visited. Dr. Edward P. Melmed, MD 7777 Forest Lane, Suite A-210 Dallas, Texas 75230 Ph. (972) 566-7755 FAX (972)566-7979 Email: emelmed@aol.com He did an examination after talking with me for over an hour, after which he said I would not need a breast lift. He said I would only gain about an inch or so upward in my particular case, and that he would rather be conservative. I could understand that such a small gain in this particular circumstance would not be worth the additional scarring. He took pictures of me and asked me to give due consideration to everything he had said. By this time, I had every confidence in his ability as well as his motivations. I could not schedule surgery fast enough. My surgery was set for November 29, and my husband and I drove into Dallas the night before to stay at a hotel in close proximity to the hospital. About 10:00 pm, I started to get very nervous because I had another one of my massive headaches and I had been feeling very weak. I was afraid that maybe I wasn't up to the surgery. Since I had stopped taking all my medication 3 months prior, my body was very tired from contending with that daily pain. I felt that I was losing, and that my body was in a weakened state particularly on that night before surgery. I was familiar with this state of weakness. The best way to describe it would be to say that it feels like being in a fight that you know you are losing, but there's no way out of it. My husband thought I should call Dr. Melmed and let him know how I was feeling, just in case he thought we should postpone things until I felt a little stronger. I was afraid to call so late. Everyone knows not to disturb doctors unless it's truly an emergency, and I wasn't sure this could be described as such. But when my headache began to up the ante, I decided to give him a beep, to which he responded immediately. I'll never forget, he said "Cindi, if you feel that you want to call me because your TOE hurts, call me. That is why I am here. I am here for you." Then he went on to explain that yes, we should go on with the surgery not in spite of my current condition, but because of it. He explained that relief would come to me gradually, like an oven being turned off. It would cool down over time. I still could not let myself believe it, because I still did not believe that my implants could be causing all these problems. I thought they might be contributors, but not the source. My surgery was a breeze. Dr. Melmed said he loves a boring surgery, and mine was that. I was truly astonished to learn that both implants were leaking, and the right one had adhered to my chest muscle. He said that every bit of the polyurethane was gone from the implants. Hopefully it was all in the capsule, and not now lurking elsewhere in my body. Funny, I was never exposed to super-human temperatures. At any rate, Dr. Melmed said all was accomplished with relative ease, and most importantly, that he got it all. I would have never known that there were any problems with my implants by looking at my breasts before explantation. For the first time, I could not deny that my problems were caused by the slow poisoning of my system, although I'm sure there are some who would still try to convince me otherwise. How hard I fought that notion, which now is a bitter fact. When I awoke on the table in the recovery room I could already feel that my pain was gone. I could hear the nurses talking around me, and I could feel myself coming into consciousness. I could tell, even so soon, that the pain in my neck and back that had become so familiar and constant, was gone. It was absolutely not there. I had pain in my chest, and my throat was hurting a little. But the pain that was so very present for so very long had instantly vanished. I know I had a lot of wishful thinking, and that counts for a lot. And my husband reminded me not to get my hopes up because I probably still had a lot of sedation in my system. So I relaxed the thoughts of being instantly well for a time. We had our hotel room reserved for that night as well, but by the end of the day at the hospital, I felt well enough to travel home. We live about an hour away. I so much wanted to see my kids and so we left for home, much to the surprise of my husband and myself. Even the thought of a bump in the road was painful, but my husband drove slowly and warned me when one was coming up, and I would hold a pillow firmly next to my chest. I was very, very protective of everything from the waist up. I was bandaged up very tightly, the drains were in place, and I couldn't catch a peak at all. I thought I would be drowsy or sleeping most of the day and night, but I was eating dinner and joking around with my husband and watching TV that night. We laughed about my new profile, and I hoped it wouldn't be permanent. The pain was minimal and I experienced very little nausea. I admit that the pain may have been veiled by the unexplainable sense of relief and joy that I felt. All the wonder and worry about the safety of my implants could finally be buried. I started to get worried the next day when I was able to pull the bandages out just a little to look inside. What I saw was disheartening. My breasts did indeed look like empty socks. There was a lot of loose skin, entirely no fullness, and my areolas were all wrinkly. My pain had not yet returned for which I was very thankful, but I was starting to feel a wave of sadness come over me about the shape, or lack thereof, of my little old breasts. I was scheduled to see Dr. Melmed the next day, and I was starting to wonder if he had made a good decision about not performing a breast lift. I was prepared for small breasts, but not this. But then I was given a measure of the same strength that I had been given that day in August, and I could feel the One who gave it all around me. With new resolve, I decided that I would not let myself feel any sadness about this. I would buck-up, walk the talk, and rejoice that I had gotten those things out of my body; that poison out of my body, regardless of the outcome. I thought I could at least be mulish enough to hold up that frame of mind until all had been given some time, and until I could talk with Dr. Melmed again. (I guess being stubborn has its fine moments.) So soon my husband and I went again to Dallas, him watching for bumps in the road and I, clutching my trusty pillow. Dr. Melmed offered his sincere smile right away, and again listened to all my worries. As he began to unravel the layers of bandages, I felt like Forrest Gump eating chocolate; I didn't know what I was gonna get. Then he said the drains could be removed and I laid myself down on the table. For me, this was the most uncomfortable part of the whole procedure. But happily they were out quickly and it felt fantastic to be drain free. He sat me up so I could get my first lawful look. They were surely empty. They didn't look as bad though, as they had when I had stolen a peak. They had filled out a little bit since then. I took a deep breath and looked at myself straight in the mirror. I thought, "you know, I can live with this. It's not great, but I can live with it." Dr. Melmed told me they would continue to fill out, and I wondered if that was really true. I have proven to be a seeing is believing kind of person. But I made a mindful decision to be happy with them no matter what, because they were all me, and so far, the pain in my neck, back and shoulders had not returned. As I was leaving Dr. Melmed's office that day, he said something else that I will never forget which was, "now, you'll never have to think of your breasts again." That was a wonderful thought to contemplate. They did indeed continue to fill out over the next few days. I wondered if it was swelling, or if they would stay as full as they were becoming. They stayed! It happens that they shaped and formed into breasts with which I am very satisfied. The wrinkly skin filled in and fluffed out and to me, their appearance is better than I imagined possible. I am very happy with them and believe they look better than they did with implants, as well as pre-implantation. What a wonderful surprise they turned out to be. 5 days after explantation-Right Side 5 days after explantation-Right Side 6 weeks in "Wonderbra" I have had two mild headaches since explantation, and only two days of mild neck, back or shoulder pain. And I believe those were days when I really over did it. I am not sure what will come of my CTD, or if a fibro flare will come again. But at this point, I have still not had any medication and I am feeling better than I have in years. I haven't worn my night guard and I am sleeping peacefully. I am awfully curious to find if my blood tests will return to normal, or if my prolactin level will level out in time. I only recognize now, after explantation and the consequent rejuvenation of my health, the extent to which I was suffering. After 6 Days 6 Weeks Post Op 6 Weeks Post Op It is easy to declare that I feel 15 years younger now. Life has breathed itself into my being in a way that can't be described here. I had wholly lost memory of what it felt like to have energy, and now it is here within me. I'm sleeping on my tummy, I'm hugging those I love and there is nothing false between us, I'm a sharing member of my family, my skin even feels better for heaven's sake. The best way to describe my status of life is to say that I feel that I have been awakened. In the past month, I have: bought and wrapped all our Christmas presents; cooked and hosted a party for fifteen; rode in a Christmas parade; attended a concert, and went to a big blow out New Year's Eve party. We stay up late lots of nights just laughing and enjoying life. I know I would have never been able to do, nor would I even have considered doing any of these things two months ago. There are also changes that I could have never expected, little daily things, like the growing strength in my hands which allows me to grasp things without hurting, or turning my head to look into the back seat to see my daughter, with no sting shooting down into my shoulders. It is simply indescribable how happy I am and how much better I feel. And I will never take one moment of good health for granted again. I am overjoyed, and feel like I have been given a new life. For me, breast augmentation was an immense mistake that took away more than I even realized it was taking. Even so, it gave back a lot. It was a mistake from which I gained as much or more than I lost. Maybe stubborn people like me need a jolt, to help melt away the layers of superfluous, and develop the layers of genuine. In my case, genuine has never felt so good. My body, surely far from perfect, is perfect to me. With it I feel deeply content as never before, as it is the wonderful container of love, life, joy, faith and hope that it was made to be. EMAIL CINDI