Well, that wasn’t so bad.

No, really. Surgery has all kinds of risks– the obvious and the unexpected — things they tell you probably won’t happen but they tell you anyway, because, lawsuits.

My surgery went as perfectly as it could have gone. Breast tissue and select lymph nodes, out. My God-given skin (with nipples in tact–I have never written or uttered the word nipples more in my life! But it turns out that they in fact go a long way to make a boob look like a boob), on. New, 16-year-old-teenager-condition implants, in.

Go ahead, Google mastectomy. Look at the image results. Blech. Good news! I don’t look like that. I can’t see my incisions. They’ll be under my new perky boobs. Modern medicine is amazing, and my surgical team is really at the forefront of it. I spent ONE NIGHT in the hospital.

I’m wrapped in this clear, plastic film and from what I can see, things are generally similar to any other set out there. There’s swelling and numbness, and I have these nasty drains on either side of me that need to be measured and emptied twice daily, but generally, things look anatomically accurate and acceptable.

surgical drains, the other kind of fun bag

Despite their boring outer exterior, I did suggest to John that they might glow. We will see next time we go to glow-in-the-dark mini-golf .

Since I have been home, I’ve been asked questions about how I’m doing mentally. After all, this is one step in a long series of steps I will be taking to get rid of the cancer. And, well, let’s not forget I basically had a part of my body amputated.

Here are some of those questions, and my answers, best I can explain:

Are you angry this happened to you?

Of course I am. I’m completely irritated that I have to deal with this. Do you know how much crap I have going on? Have I mentioned my company is going through a major metamorphosis, and as part of leadership,& was to be a part of that change? Did I tell you how Mark is reassessing his career and interested in making changes himself? I probably didn’t tell you how John DOESN’T SLEEP. Or that I started a workout regimen in January and was just starting to see significant results.

Maybe you mean, “Are you angry this happened to you?” Well, that answer is no. Because if one in eight women are going to get breast cancer, I certainly don’t want it to be you instead of me. Or my sisters. Or my mom! Or my sisters-in-law. If me getting on the bus means then you don’t have to, I’ll take that. Because I love you.

Are you sad about losing your boobs? (This question is most often followed by an enthusiastic complement of my old girls, for which I am always grateful)

Oh hell no. Did you know that my old, hot boobs tried to KILL ME? Good riddance.

Do you want to run a race with me and raise money for breast cancer awareness?

Where’s my checkbook?