I was back at obsessing over ever single “imperfection”. I started running myself into the ground (literally). Now, running was even more challenging, and my boobs clapped together with every stride. It was painful and so freaking annoying, not to mention the weight these boulders but on my back was a real bitch. Regular sports bras were a joke and the expensive af “high impact” sports bras I swear cut off the circulation to my brain (lord knows I couldn’t afford to lose braincells). I was damned if I did, and damned if I didn’t.
Not only was running not easy, I was experiencing some really uncomfortable hip pain, like really bad. And listen, I know I’m dramatic, but this was miserable. Then soon after that, my shoulder and knees started hurting like hell. It was so weird and relatively quick. It was like all the sudden I woke up one morning feeling like I was an 80 year old woman. Running became replaced with doctor appointments, x-rays, and poppin’ Ibuprofen. Eventually I was told I had “runner’s knee” and it was all because of “aging”. Please keep in mind I was only 26 years old at the time, so that was BULLSHIT. I was completely over the paying copays, so I said “fuck it”, I took what he said and rolled with it. I was just relieved there wasn’t something really wrong with me.
Over the next several years I had a dozen more random auto immune like symptoms that could never be explained. I won’t name them all here because I don’t have enough time or wine. The major symptoms I was experiencing aside from the joint pain was muscle weakness, sound sensitivity (which is really fucking cool with three kids), hair loss, and pain in my right breast. I was also extremely tachycardic (my heart was always beating like I had just a taken a handful of Adderall and then ran a marathon). I avoided going to the doctor all together at because of my fear that they would find something scary, which is completely stupid, GO TO THE FUCKING DOCTOR. Anyway, I wasn’t “sick” all the time or anything like that, so I just ignored the symptoms when they came up (like any responsible adult).
I had a very crazy “cardiac event” that landed me in the ER at one point. After a handful of tests, a few terrifying possible diagnosis's , and a zillion dollar medical bill, I was told it was “just anxiety”. Like what the fuck? I have been riddled with anxiety my entire life and have never had a heart condition, so again, I call BULLSHIT. I started to think that med students are taught to chalk everything up as anxiety if they have a head scratcher, but what do I know. Either way, now I had a cardiologist AND a therapist (I needed a therapist anyway, because I’m naturally a train wreck).
At the start of 2021 I got the dreaded plague (aka Covid-19) and it exacerbated all of my autoimmune like symptoms. I now know that this is because the virus is very smart and attacks any areas of “weakness”, and my body was already attacking certain areas because of the implants. Hindsight is 20/20 (literally fuck 2020), and I agree, if only I had known. But I didn’t, ya live and ya learn.
I spent a lot of time on social media, like the rest of the world. I followed this badass momma named Racheal and I am so freaking grateful that I found her page! I was just scrolling and saw her post about it being her 3rd year explant-aversary. What the fuck is an “explant”? I was bored and intrigued so started researching. I learned that women all over the world have been suffering in silence for decades from BII (Breast implant illness), and until now, no one really talked about it. Reaching out to her and several other women like her was all the confirmation I needed. FUCK, it was time to go back to the itty bitty titty committee.
Since the start of my journey, I had been sharing all my new knowledge with one of my very best friends (shout out to the most loyal, I love you Kristen). She too had been dealing with similar issues since implanting. The more and more information we got, the clearer it was that we needed those fuckers out of our bodies. But as easy as it should have been, it was still such a difficult decision for both of us.
Remember how I mentioned that my husband was type A? Well, with that comes the need for extensive investigation with almost everything (one of us has to be rational and lord know it’s not going to be me). So, I compiled tons of research and laid it all out for him. After a few days, he reluctantly agreed that it was worth a shot (this wasn’t going to be a cheap mistake if I was wrong). I set out to find a surgeon that actually believed me. A surgeon that knew that tens of thousands of women weren’t just making this shit up. And I did, finally. I found a surgeon in Columbus Ohio, about 4 hours from my city. His name was Dr Kocak I found him with good ol social media (see, It’s not all bad). It’s crazy how many things lined up just right to land me right where I needed to be (thank you Kaley for all the support and recs for the right doctor).After submitting some embarrassing photos of my post 3 babies, semi deflated, and definitely not symmetrical boobs, I was on the books for a phone consult.
The appointment went well, and he agreed I had some capsular contracture (the formation of a "capsule" of scar tissue around any kind of implant) and he said my symptoms aligned with that of other woman with BII. MY SURGURY WAS BOOKED!