The first week post-op felt like moving through fog. Lots of resting, endless scrolling, and helping the kids wrap up their last week of school when I could. Four days post surgery, my best friend since 6th grade swung by with her 4-month-old (and a stash of Cadbury eggs—hero status). There’s just something about baby snuggles that instantly lifts the spirit. I even ventured out that weekend for a double dose of normalcy: watching two of Reed’s playoff baseball games (still undefeated—whoop whoop!) and a cozy bonfire and dinner at Michelle and Dusty’s.
Fast-forward to June 11th: the day I got my first drain removed. Sweet relief. With the swelling easing up, I could finally see what this mysterious “expander” was doing inside my chest. My incisions—two of them—were healing well. One sits in the fold of my armpit (from where Dr. Olimpiadi removed my lymph node), and the other runs under my breast where the tissue was taken out. My PA said things looked great, and honestly, that felt like a gold star moment.
Surprisingly, the pain has been minimal from day one. I told Nick it feels like I went way too hard at the gym with weights I had no business lifting—just a sore-muscle vibe from where they had to work around and lift my muscle to get to the lymph node. The drains caused the most discomfort, especially since they’re stitched to my side to stay put.
But yesterday… 🎶 drumroll 🎶 …the last drain came out! It was like ripping off a weird little Band-Aid from the inside—instant lightness.
I wasn't sure if I’d get to start filling the expander yet, but my amazing PA Jen gave the green light—and just like that, the journey began.
Here’s the thing about technology: I have a whole new appreciation for how far it’s come. The expander fill process? It’s pretty remarkable.
Lesson #5: The Expander
For context: the expander isn’t the permanent implant. If you’ve ever felt a silicone implant outside the body, you know it’s soft, squishy, and kind of like a plush stress ball. This... is not that.
The only “expander” I was familiar with before this was the kind they used to prep kids’ mouths for braces—and I didn’t even have to wear one. Just heard the horror stories.
This version? It’s a whole different animal. It’s made of tough, flexible material designed to gradually stretch the chest cavity where my breast tissue used to be. When Dr. Cantwell showed us one in the office, I was genuinely surprised by how firm and thick it was.
Imagine a flattened pouch with some serious heft—firmer than you'd expect. It even has little tabs that anchor it to the rib cage (wild, right?). As they add saline through a built-in port (which feels like a tiny raised disc under my skin), it firms up more and more. The goal isn’t softness—yet. It’s about making space.
This stage is all about groundwork. A little rough around the edges, but full of purpose. This isn’t the destination, it’s the scaffolding. One step closer to the final form—and to feeling whole again.
So yesterday, June 17th, they filled me with 50ccs of saline. The nurse used a cool magnet to find the port, marked the spot, and in went the needle. Ten minutes later, I walked out of the office a little rounder on the left side and officially drain-free.
Progress. It’s quiet. It’s strange. And it’s beautiful.
Here is a picture of what an expander looks like:
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