(Allegedly) No Boobs, (Maybe) No Problems (But There Were) - May 21, 2026

Hello friends and family and welcome to a special edition of the Rogue Boob Chronicles I like to call “T*tless and Witless,” where I tell you about the absolute batsh*t insanity that was the time leading up to my double mastectomy with aesthetic flat closure, all the way to now, 6 days out and nearly 31 years of age!

(Mentions of surgery complications and blood for those who are sensitive.)

I have had 7 months to assimilate going flat into my reality, so I tried to think of ways to memorialize my chest before the surgery. What came to mind is the taxidermied deer heads trophy hunters mount above their fireplaces to celebrate a monumental hunting achievement or something, right? I decided I, the conqueror of my own boobs, wanted to create something similar—a cast of my chest I could put somewhere and flip off as I walk past. Or make them into a hanging planter basket. Or whatever else. Hey, the sky’s the limit! Anyone have any ideas?

But just imagine my housemate Cynthia flinging goops of form-casting mix onto my chest with a spatula like she’s Jackson Pollock and I’m Blue Poles. I was standing in the bathtub wondering if this is the revival of some ancient baptismal ceremony we’ve subconsciously unlocked because who just does stuff like this on a Wednesday afternoon? The casting slop turns white and rubbery as it dries and it was coating verifiably every surface in the bathroom. It took 4 tries of this mayhem and a living on a prayer to finally get it right the night before the surgery by laying my chest in a box full of plaster! And now I can say I have my own deer head! Except it’s my boobs! F*ck those boobs! Bless Cynthia for unquestionably always being down for weird shenanigans on basically zero notice. I went to bed that night fully confident in my choice with the comfort of knowing I have something to remember my stupid rogue boobs by. 

This is where it goes from “getting surgery” to “guest starring in an episode of House.”

The double mastectomy itself went well and my chest now sports a wide W-shaped scar that looks certifiably bad ass. Somehow my port decided to do a backflip and was backwards for a few weeks, so that was fixed while I was under too. My surgeon, Dr. Kalliath, also wrote “f*ck cancer!” on my stomach, lol!! I was watched for a while afterward to make sure I was stable enough to go home. And I was. But unfortunately, Cynthia saw that I was losing consciousness about an hour after I came home and called 911. I “came to” in the ER with the sense that I should be there despite not exactly knowing what happened—I have had fainting spells in the past so there I was thinking that it was one of those episodes brought on by heavy anesthesia. 

Again, I don’t remember anything that happened during the episode and everything from that night is extremely fuzzy now…but this is my closest recollection. My amazing surgeon came back to the hospital after having gone home for the night. She started evaluating the swelling, the crazy drain output and the pain I was in—that I didn’t realize I was in, even—and recommended opening up the surgery site and seeing what was going on. When I woke up from that surgery 3 hours later, she told me they were hematomas/clots, there were 5 of them from my collar bone to my ribs, and they’ve been taken care of. This type of internal bleeding is a rare but known complication that she sees maybe once a year. I have structural deformities in my heart and also Ehlers Danlos Syndrome, so it makes sense that something like this could’ve happened to me. This wasn’t anyone’s fault and there was no medical oversight anywhere. Going flat was supposed to be the path of least resistance and of course my STUPID ASS body said “Here are some hoops. Jump through them. Also, the hoops were forged in hell and they’re on fire.”

The last complication I had was an issue with one of the surgical drains the night going into Tuesday the 19th. It backed up enough to lose its flow—something either dislodged it or was blocking it—and it leaked all over my right side. I went to the ER to get it cleaned up and fixed and got a blood transfusion because my levels still hadn’t recovered from the internal bleeding and whatever happened with the drain didn’t help at all. The morphine they gave me that time was a nice plus though, I gotta say. So you see: for as much as I’ve kidded around about my body thinking up new and exciting ways to kill me, I’m honestly not joking. I’m trying to use humor to make light of multiple conditions I have that nearly scare the will to live out of me every day. What a shock it is to hear me say that, right? I’m blowing my own cover! Ha. 

I’m recovering now with the help of a lovely home visiting nurse (hi, Barrie!) who is monitoring the problem sites for any signs of anything going wrong and helping me with the drains and pain medication management. These two surgeries and the recovery have been ridiculously hard and no one could have foreseen any of these complications. There’s also nothing I could have done to prevent them, so I’m choosing to just celebrate each day I don’t have to go to the ER and hope that I continue to feel better. Slowly, I will. I know it.

I know I’m a broken record here, but the people caring for me have been nothing short of extraordinary. I have never felt more genuinely loved and fought for in my life by my friends, neighbors, family, medical team, and even total strangers. All of you checking in, sending messages, making me laugh, offering help or food, and generally refusing to let me disappear into the void has mattered more than I can explain. I keep every card I’ve been sent in a dedicated box just for them. I think I’m a pretty easygoing, chill person for the most part, but my life and circumstances really aren’t. The cognitive dissonance of that makes me insane sometimes, and I also am acutely aware that I cannot ever pay you back for what all of you have done for me…which also makes me insane to think about. So, thank you for loving me for me through all of this absolute nonsense. I hope me saying that hasn’t lost its weight after all these months. 

I guess we’ll see what happens next. That’s just the logical progression of things. Stay well and enjoy this beautiful spring weather!! And if you far-flung peeps find yourselves wandering towards New England this summer, you better let me know! 

All my love,

Caroline (who is suffering from Long Term Mammary Loss!)