We have several services to make you look and feel exactly how you want, and to provide natural options for oncoplastic surgery. What should you expect when you're about to go through a breast lift and reduction?

In our last two blogs, we've discussed some of our many treatments and services we offer to help your battle with breast cancer and survivorship journey. Each of these services can improve your quality of life mentally, physically, and emotionally. Today we want to talk about and discuss one of our oncoplastic surgery services, breast lifts, and reductions. Oncoplastic surgery is aimed at breast cancer surgery with or with reconstruction to improve cosmetic outcomes for our patients. Our medical providers are trained and certified in oncoplastic surgery as well as Hidden Scar (trademarked) surgery, nipple spanning mastectomies, breast lift and reductions, implant repair, and natural reconstruction. Today, our blog is going to be focused on breast lift and reduction, what our services look like, and what to expect with the procedure. The surgery itself is the rearrangement of tissue after breast disease is removed. It allows the shape and size of the breast to be repaired.

Depending on your needs and what your cancer diagnosis is, you might choose to have both of your breasts removed (a double mastectomy) to remove the breast with cancer and to eliminate any risk of it returning. You also might choose to have both of your breasts removed to eliminate any diagnosis if you are a high-risk individual. Some choose to or only need to remove one breast, replacing it with natural reconstruction or an implant to match their other breast. Some only have cancerous tissue removed from one breast, leaving the shape and size of the breast altered and different from the other breast. This is where our breast lift and reduction services come into the picture.

The removal of the cancerous tumor and lymph nodes, not the whole breast itself, is called a lumpectomy. Breast tissue will also be removed with the tumor that it was connected to that could continue to put the patient at risk. This will cause the shape of your original breast to change during this surgery. This is where the lift begins. Your breast will be reconstructed, along with the placement of your nipple and areola. It will naturally be placed higher on your body and look "perkier" since tissue and skin have been removed to create a smaller firmer breast. Your other breast will still be its original size, and your nipples will no longer be symmetrical. This is where the next step, reduction, begins. Your surgeon will remove tissue from your other breast to match the newly constructed breast and move the nipple as well.

You can have a reduction and lift, or oncoplastic surgery, during your lumpectomy. There are many advantages to doing so. One is that you'll only have to go through one surgery, instead of two. It also helps with limiting or eliminating the risk of cancer returning to the breast that held the cancerous tumor, because it allows for more tissue to be removed. It is easier for a surgeon to achieve better symmetry when doing a lift and reduction at the same time as a lumpectomy. Also, those suffering from pain caused by having naturally large breasts will receive relief from that pain while keeping their risk of returning cancer very low.

Please note that a breast lift doesn't make the breast bigger or smaller. That is done with the removal of tissue or adding in tissue from another part of your body or with the use of implants. The lift itself is your surgeon tightening and reshaping your breast tissue, the removal of excess skin, and making sure your areola and nipple are in the desired position. Our services allow the shape and size changes of your breast to be repaired on both the affected breast and the non-cancerous breast. A breast reduction will allow your non-cancerous breast to be reshaped into a smaller, lighter, firmer breast that will sit higher on your chest. Both surgeries can be outpatient procedures, with a short recovery time. Many women can return to work 2-3 weeks after their surgery. As it goes with any surgery, there are some risks involved. Those risks can include the loss of feeling in the nipple or breast, bleeding, scarring, and infection. It can also inhibit the ability to breastfeed. Make sure to speak with us about your pregnancy plans and plans after surgery before deciding to take this journey.

Your breast cancer battle is tough, but you're tougher. We are here to make it as easy as possible and to stand with you along the way. If you have any questions about breast lift and reductions, or about any of our services, don't hesitate to reach out. Continue to fight, be proud of the journey you're on, and be well.

Thanks to our incredible followers and supporters, we have another incredible survivor story that we are very proud to share with you. We hope these words bring you comfort, peace, and hope. 

This hasn't been the spring that any of us could have imagined. But, we are still marching on. We are still here for you as you continue to fight your battle, continue to heal, and continue to carry on every day. A few months ago, we shared a survivor story about Savanna James. Her words continue to echo in our hearts and minds, and we hope they have stayed with you. Just a few weeks ago, another survivor story came into our world, and we are very proud to share it with you here today. We want to introduce Michele Wheeler, her story, and her incredible nurse, Jim. Michele has shared this story on her own website, and we are very thankful to her for allowing us to share it with you here today.  


                                                                                To Be Seen 

     The birthday party was going to be phenomenal. He stood over me explaining how his wife had to bake three cakes  - three! - because they invited all the kids in both classes. I lay trapped in tubes and wires and blankets and gowns while his words passed through the air above me. Some people might think they were going overboard for a four-year-old. Other people might. Not anyone in this room of course. Radiologists rule in this room. I stared at the ceiling thinking What in the ---- is happening here? as the masked techs oohed and awed over those cakes and the balloons and the bouncy house. Trapped, I tried to ignore them all as he shoved a needle into my liver to grab the sample that would confirm if I was dying of cancer or not. 

     That was three years ago. The sample came back hot.  Now, I was back in the exact same hospital, the exact same radiology department, for another biopsy. This time, we were looking for mutations that could provide more treatment options. I insisted on a different surgeon, and I got one, but the stench of frosting and the memory of that big fat needle were still very much with me. They told me, back then, that the meds would give me an I-don’t-care feeling, with a little amnesia mixed in. But I remembered. Oh, believe me, I did care. 
     And so I told them, now, how the baggage from the last liver jab was increasing my anxiety beyond the more “standard” biopsy stress. I’m just barely hanging on here folks, I told them. Please help me out by upping those I-don’t-care meds and skipping the talk about your outstanding personal plans, thanks so much. 
     Sounds fair, they said. That’s exactly what we’ll do. 

     I didn’t used to lay it out that way. I let uncertainty and fear overwhelm me into passive obedience. Because certainly all those nurses and doctors had been through whichever procedure far more times than I have. But after years of cancering, and too many appointments left feeling undervalued, I’ve matured into the realization that I am, in fact, an expert in Me. More so, I’ve come to appreciate how much doctors and techs really do want to get it right and telling them how I want it just makes it easier for everyone.
     Does it actually need to be said that you shouldn’t talk about your kid’s happy party during a terminal illness reveal? And honest feedback, the part of me that gets angry every time I see a birthday cake, would readily join you in hanging up that first surgeon. 
     But the part of me that needs to let go of that anger remembers that not everyone has experienced the sharp side of the needle. And so yes, it does need to be said. 
     It needs to be said because maybe he was trying to distract me by talking about that party. And maybe it would have worked if he just would have said first, I am sorry that this is happening to you. Then I could have said, Tell me everything about that bouncy house. 
​
     My med guy came, Jim, came in then to introduce himself. He managed to strike up small talk that seemed well placed, asking me about my kids a bit, surface questions, with just enough about his own kids to keep the conversation going. He was gentle. He let me know that I’d get my I-don’t-care meds after just a little more prep. 
     He wheeled me into the biopsy room, and that prep got very active. There were at least another five masked techs hooking me up to wires and hoses. The radiologist came up then and reached across me to adjust the monitor he would use to look for a sampleable tumor with ultrasound. When he started pushing down with the wand on my stomach, just below my ribs, I told him, “Can you move that screen so I can’t see it, please?” As he did, I closed my eyes and said, “And no comments about the size of the tumors either, please.”
     I could still feel constant motion around me, and then a quiet voice from just behind me, Jim, “Michele, I’m going to give you some of that anti-nausea medication now, okay?” I nodded, thinking but what about the I-don’t-care meds?  Not wanting to sound like a junkie, I tried to be patient. 
     But I could feel it coming. Like the vibration on train tracks before any sound of the engine, before any hint of smoke coming from its stacks. I kept my eyes closed and wondered which would arrive first: the panic attack or the I-don’t-care meds. 
     Panic did. And I fought with it to speak, managing only, “I could. Now. The I don’t. Don’t care. Meds. I need them cuz I think I might run. I’m gonna…” I raised my hand just a bit to the radiologist, “So with the wand. It. The. Could you. Wait. Please?” He took it off my stomach and the room got very still. I kept my eyes closed to find the words, and finally managed, in a whisper, “I’m going to have a panic attack. I’m just about to and I need that anxiety medicine right now.”  
     With that, the radiologist patted my arm gently once, and let me know he’d wait outside until the meds kicked in. The rest of the staff left as well. But Jim stayed. He interrupted the quiet only to give me brief updates. I’m delivering those meds now, Michele. And then a few moments later, They should start working really soon.
     It was more like I started leaking than crying. The tears just slipped easily from the corners of my eyes. With all the tubes and wires and blankets and gown twisted around me, I was helpless to do anything but let them fall. But I said nothing, because I thought asking for tear wiping was taking it a bit too far. 
     I didn’t have to ask. Before those tears reached my ears, I felt a tissue on either side of my face as Jim gently wiped them up. And yes, the tenderness of that did make me squeak out a few more tears. But it was far fewer than it would have been, had those tears fallen unnoticed and been left to soak my hair. 
     Thank you, I said.
     You’re welcome, said Jim. And for the next few minutes, I lied there, leaking tears, and Jim sat behind me, wiping them up.
     The meds finally kicked in, enough so that we could carry on with the procedure, but they didn’t erase the reality that put me there. I leaked, intermittently through the whole thing. One click. Two clicks. Tears slipped from my eyes as little bits of cancer and liver were pulled from under my ribs. I kept dripping while I counted three… four... five. I think it was Jim that kept wiping the sides of my face as I silently cried. I don’t know. I kept my eyes closed the whole time. But I do know that not one tear passed an ear, and that was an enormous comfort.

​Because still wrapped in blankets and trapped in illness, I felt seen. 

Thank you so much, Michele, for sharing your incredibly brave story. Our hearts were with you through every written word and will continue to be as you continue your journey. Thank you for lifting up the people in your journey, like Jim, who has helped you through it all. Thank you for sharing with us the need and the right you have to ask for what you need in every step of your treatment and beyond. You are an incredible warrior. Thank you for sharing this with us. 

To learn more about Michele, read more incredible stories like this one, and to follow her journey check out her website by following the link below! 
https://www.acrackinthewall.com/

We would be honored to hear and share YOUR story too. We want to share your experiences to help to continue inspiring others just like Savanna and Michele have. If you would like to share, email us your story and a photo of yourself to survivors@thebreastplace.com and you may be featured on our social media or in an upcoming blog post.

It's so easy to get sucked into our cellphones. These handy and incredible objects that can connect us to the world and give us so much information in mere seconds can offer comfort, connection, fun, and a way to express ourselves. But does this stay true during your diagnosis, treatment, and afterward? Is there such a thing as too much screen time?

The unknown during diagnosis, treatment, and after can be one of the most painful parts of your journey. Finding the right kind of support and spending your time as you wish during your journey can be a battle in itself.  Panic, fear, and doubt are a part of your everyday life, on top of trying to live your life as normally as you possibly can. Eliminating the negative things and people in your life during this time can be a very difficult decision to make. It can add another layer of worry and doubt to your life while trying to live and heal according to the societal norms around you. But what good are those negative people are things doing for you? Giving you extra stress, worry, hurting you, and possibly even making you angry? Why would you want someone like that in your life? The same thing applies to the cellphone that has casually become a permanent staple in your hand, back pocket, or bag.

We spend hours of our day scrolling mindlessly through our Facebook, Instagram, and Twitter accounts or on news sites, playing games, or surfing the web. We love posting about our families, the exciting things we're doing, looking up recipes, shopping on Amazon, and keeping up to date on the news. When going through treatment and afterward, social media and our connection to it can be a great form of comfort, reassurance, and an extension of learning more about what's happening in your body. There are so many inspiring Facebook pages and groups waiting to welcome you in with open arms, Instagram accounts that will keep you inspired, and brilliant websites to read and podcasts to listen to that will educate and comfort you on this journey. But what about everything else in between? How much time should you be spending on your phone, and when does it become a little too much? Is too much screen time a good thing or a band thing during your road to recovery or through treatment? This is an emerging topic that might cause a dispute or two. As you consider your path and choice of time spent on your phone, here are some things to consider and think about.

• IT'S ALL PERFECT

We've talked about the struggles of trying to keep up with the normalcy of your life while going through treatment. That even though you've been diagnosed with something very scary and difficult, you've started invasive treatments that can leave you exhausted and sick, society pressures you to keep on going, caring for your family and your job as if nothing has changed. You can do this all on your own, right? First of all, as we've said many times before, you have to flush the idea of "normal". There is no one way you should be dealing with your diagnosis or treatment, how you care for your family, or live your life through it all. You make those decisions to better your quality of life. But where does that pressure to look and live that perfect life come from? One of its many sources is social media.

You may be following others on social media platforms that are going through a journey similar to yours. But, some of these people make it look easy, that it's not a huge challenge, and their pictures are inspiring or beautiful while doing it. Remember, what you post online is under your control. Filters are there to make everything look exactly how you want it to. You can control every aspect of your pictures and leave the imperfection and ugly behind. The days you get bad news, feel sick, don't look or feel like yourself, the messy house, the distraught or frustrated family members, might be left out of their posts. Even if they don't show these things, it's all still there, just like you. Seeing these cultivated and perfectly inspired posts over and over again can either keep you inspired or weigh heavily on you. Thoughts of doubt, comparison, and low self-esteem can become a daily part of your experience with social media. These posts can make you question why your life and journey doesn't look as easy or as inspiring as others, and make you question why it's not like that for you.

When comparison starts getting in the way, we suggest that it's time to put your phone down. Granted, these posts, these blogs, Facebook groups, and anywhere you can find a connection are there to serve a wonderful purpose. But when that purpose no longer applies to you or when it's making your journey more difficult or upsetting in any way, it might be time to reevaluate why this amount of screen time and what you're doing on your phone is important.

• TIME

It's so easy to let the hours disappear while you're scrolling or reading online. How many times have you opened your favorite social media app to check or post something and all of a sudden an hour or two is gone. How did that happen? Hours and time can become precious while on this journey. It is also time that needs to be used to rest and recover. It's so easy to pick up your phone and scroll when you can't sleep. Those hours can slip away and prevent you from getting the rest that you need to keep up your winning battle. Be good to yourself, you deserve the time to rest.

• THE CHATTER

Phone calls, text messages, emails, messenger; these are all wonderful ways to stay in contact with your loved ones and to keep them updated on your journey. You can spend hours every day answering or making calls, responding to messages, and sending emails. It can be therapeutic for both you and those receiving them. It's also ok to set time limits on when you're going to be on your phone talking about your diagnosis or treatment. You can set up time slots for when you're going to be answering these calls and messages, and when you're not. There is no need to feel guilty for doing so. You don't need to give any explanation for making that decision. The hours and time you spend on the phone repeating the same information over and over again can be an emotionally draining experience. You are allowed to decide what times during the day is best for you to talk on the phone and when your phone will be put down.

• THE SCIENCE

There has been no proven science that being on your phone too long or storing it in your bra will give you breast cancer. Spending large amounts of time on your phone has been linked to headaches, stress, anxiety, depression, short temper, a shortened attention span, and damage to your eyes. None of these things are enjoyable when you're in your best shape, let alone dealing with breast cancer. You already have enough on your plate, why add more to that?
​

• EASE

With all of this being said, there are plenty of benefits to screen time. As I mentioned above, there is a lot of comfort and education you can glean from your time on the web. It's also a way to share your journey, not only with your loved ones but with those you can help educate and inspire with your story. When choosing how much screen time you have in your life, make the choice mindfully. It's not a bad thing for you, but always choose your screen time for the positive reasons all of it was created for.

As in any decision you make while on your journey, make it for you. If you enjoy spending time on your phone, spend time on your phone! These are your decisions to make, so make them proudly. As you live through your diagnosis, treatment, and beyond, give yourself the joy and happiness you deserve in the best ways you can. We are here to give you the support you need, answer the questions you have, and guide you on the journey you want. Say yes to what to want, and allow yourself to say no to the things that are getting in the way of your life.