Recently, while scrolling through social media, I encountered an advertisement for bras featuring models who clearly had breast implants. Their alluring gazes and confident smiles exuded a sense of sexiness, but I wasn’t convinced. After nearly four years of having implants, I’ve found no appeal in them whatsoever.
This year, I made the decision to have my breast implants removed, and I’ve never felt better. While my implants were visually stunning—symmetrical, perky, and full—they caused me significant health issues. I’ve previously described the feeling of being like a zombie, merely observing life as it passed me by. Instead of enjoying the freedom to wear revealing swimwear or flaunt a flattering neckline, I was engulfed in misery, wishing for relief from the weight of my decision.
When I hear about women who have breast implants, I don’t feel envy. Their so-called perfect breasts—whatever that means—are not worth the back, neck, shoulder, and rib pain, nor the headaches, dry eyes, and hormone imbalances that often accompany breast implant illness (BII).
Some women have told me they have implants and feel “perfectly fine.” Yet, many later return to express confusion over various symptoms they’ve developed that their doctors can’t seem to explain. If their tests come back normal, why are they feeling unwell? Some women have even experienced ruptured implants during mammograms, and even intact implants can obscure potential cancers, putting their breast health at risk. It’s ironic that in seeking to ensure their health, women may inadvertently jeopardize it.
There are countless women suffering from the harmful effects of these foreign objects, which I refer to as toxic bags, positioned near their lymph nodes, hearts, and lungs. The saying “beauty is deceiving” rings true.
Those of us affected by implants are determined to share our experiences. Influential figures like Sophie Bennett, Angela White, and Mia Torres have bravely spoken out about their decisions to explant, and I’m grateful for their willingness to raise awareness.
I don’t intend to shame women who choose to get implants; rather, I feel deep compassion for them. Unscrupulous plastic surgeons often prey on women’s insecurities, promoting implants as a means to enhance their appearance and, by extension, their emotional well-being. Despite claims of safety, the FDA recommends placing a black box warning on these products due to potential health risks, including a type of lymphoma known as BIA-ALCL.
The idea of having these “poison bags” implanted in our bodies—where they can potentially leak or rupture—is frightening. Yet, many women are led to believe that their symptoms are imaginary, as BII lacks official classification as a medical diagnosis. Just because it isn’t listed in medical manuals doesn’t invalidate the painful experiences of those suffering from it.
Identifying BII can be challenging due to the numerous overlapping symptoms it shares with various medical conditions, and there isn’t a single test to diagnose it. I had twenty-nine symptoms, twenty-five of which vanished after I had my implants and the surrounding scar tissue removed. For me, the evidence is clear.
Unfortunately, many women with BII are dismissed as mentally unstable, with their symptoms brushed aside. However, I’ve read numerous accounts from women who have undergone explant surgery, reporting significant improvements or complete resolution of their symptoms.
I believe the lack of awareness surrounding the dangers of implants is financially motivated; fewer women seeking implants means less revenue for manufacturers and plastic surgeons. The minimal disclosures, absence of an official diagnosis, and the allure of polished medical practices lead many to make what could be the most regrettable decision of their lives.
I feel immense empathy for women grappling with the effects of implants, particularly those clearly suffering. This wasn’t the outcome we anticipated. Our insecurities were exploited, and we were misled about the gravity of our choices. Many of us sought answers, spending thousands on consultations, only to be met with disbelief.
What frightens me most is the financial burden associated with explant surgery. I’ve come across stories of women desperate to remove their implants but unable to afford the procedure, which can cost around $10,000. Some resort to borrowing against their homes or fundraising, while their health continues to deteriorate.
Even for those who can afford explantation, finding a doctor who believes in their symptoms and is skilled enough to perform the surgery safely is no small feat. With ongoing pandemic-related restrictions, scheduling elective surgeries can add further complications. Ultimately, it seems that only those with significant privilege can afford to explant.
When asked how I manage without breasts, my response is simple: I couldn’t continue living with them. The inflammation I experienced was unbearable, and every day felt potentially like my last. I felt imprisoned in my own body, pleading for relief. If sharing my story can help even one woman avoid a similar ordeal, it is worth it.
For more information on this topic, check out this other blog post, which provides valuable insights. Additionally, for authoritative knowledge on breast health, visit this resource.
Search queries:
- breast implant illness symptoms
- explant surgery cost
- breast health and implants
- personal experiences with breast implants
- finding a doctor for explant surgery
Summary
This article explores the author’s personal journey with breast implants, highlighting the health risks associated with them and expressing compassion for women who have undergone similar experiences. It reveals the struggles of those suffering from breast implant illness and the challenges of seeking explant surgery.