#Tears #joy #suddenly #run #cheeks #Columns #Opinion
“Here, eat something.” Duncan hands me a banana. While I look outside at the rain pouring down, I stuff the piece of fruit inside. I’m in a hurry.
We have only been back in the Netherlands for a week, but Bali already feels like a different life.
I put on my raincoat and kiss Duncan goodbye. He puts his arms around me.
“Three times is a charm,” he says encouragingly.
I hope he’s right.
Bad experience
Today I have an appointment with plastic surgeon R. at the Jan van Goyen clinic. I received the tip from a fellow sufferer who was overjoyed with the results of her breast reconstruction. She praised Dr. R.’s medical skills and her empathy. So after one disappointing and downright nasty experience, my expectations are high.
I am nervous. I wish it were different, but I can’t get used to my deformed breast. In Bali, Duncan and Noah walked naked through our house and walled garden: every article of clothing is one too many with those tropical temperatures. Still, I kept my top on.
Duncan doesn’t understand me.
“I’ve seen that tit of yours a thousand times – what difference does it make?” he says, shaking his head when he sees me naked and I hastily turn away from him.
He’s right, but I can’t turn the switch.
crater
Doctor R. is not much older than me. She smiles warmly, sincerely.
I will provide a brief summary of my medical history.
A little later I stand in front of the mirror wearing only a thong. As always, I’m shocked by my reflection in the mirror. The light in the room is bright and unflattering. Gentle fingers slide along the deep crater on my left breast, caused by the radiation.
“Get dressed again,” says Dr. R. when she has finished.
I take my seat again, hold my breath: afraid of her judgement.
“Your tissue has been severely damaged by the radiation. But treatment with lipofilling will make your breast smoother and less lumpy. You don’t have a lot of fat in one place. So I’ll take little bits off everywhere. And we’ll probably have to do the treatment twice.
Your breasts will never be the same again, the damage is too extensive for that. But the hole will decrease, I trust that.”
I nod gratefully.
Howling
Then I will inquire about the price.
The previous plastic surgeon I spoke to charged 14,000 euros.
Doctor R. thinks it’s ridiculous.
“The treatment costs us about six thousand euros. And there is a good chance that insurance will reimburse part of the costs. We will arrange the application.”
“What, really?”
At the previous clinic they told me that reconstruction with body fat – a relatively new treatment – is never reimbursed. Don’t bother, was the advice.
I can not help it. Tears of joy suddenly run down my cheeks.
“Oh thank you,” I sob, embarrassed. “And sorry.”
Doctor R. nods reassuringly. She has been treating women after breast cancer for years. I’m probably not the first to cry in her chair.
You can follow her closely via Marith’s Instagram account @marithiedema.
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