My Breasts – My Poison: Part 1

Hope began to slowly seep through my soul for the first time in years after my husband and I returned home from the doctor’s office. I had been silent all the way home, trying to let the words we’d heard penetrate my brain. All the years of pain, visits to doctor after doctor, and hospital after hospital, and we just had confirmation that the cause was not what we had feared. I was not suffering from a bad heart. At least, not as the primary source of my current pain.

The realization that something I hadn’t even wanted back in 1970 was now killing me, was hard to accept. This new doctor had actually stated that he believed all those years of pain and suffering, hospital visits and inconclusive test results, had probably been caused by the breast implants I had carried around right in front of me!

twenty-five years. While I went through the many ups and downs of my life, surviving one health problem after another, I hadn’t realized that, like so many others, I was being used as a human guinea pig.

My Story Started in 1969….

I guess my silicone related story started in 1969 when I had to have a hysterectomy due to a severe case of endometriosis. At that time, they weren’t able to control this condition non-surgically, so after a year of pain and uncontrolled loss of blood, we gave in to the procedure. Just before this happened I had been emotionally devastated with the realization that my husband had been having an affair right from the first year of our marriage.

Our marriage had been less than perfect, although no one on the other side of our door would have suspected. Not long after my operation, he informed me that I just didn’t “turn him on” anymore. “Besides,” he glibly informed me, ” I was in love with someone else when we got married. I just decided to marry you because I thought you could help me get farther in my career. Now I’m just where I wanted to be. I don’t really need you anymore.”

This latest attack, coming at a time of emotional upheaval due to the operation, further enforced the past years of his put-downs and assaults on my self-esteem.

Finally he began saying, “If you just had bigger breasts, (I was a size A) you’d turn me on and then everything would be all right. You’d look more like a real woman, like when you were breast feeding.”