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Updated: Mar 9, 2020

I couldn't think of a better word: "DELIVERANCE" to describe how I feel since my boob-ticking-time-bombs were removed last Monday, March 2nd, 2020, at 12:45 PM. A date and time I will forever remember as the day I was delivered from pain and suffering. The day I was given my life back.

I was with Dr. Matthew Stanwix at The Surgery Center of VPFW (VA Physicians for Women), in N. Chesterfield, VA. Because of this surgery, my life became forever changed. I've been given a second chance. I'm set free from the slavery caused by dis-eases that come from breast-implants.


I woke up after the two-and-a-half-hour surgery - disoriented. Dr. Stanwix scheduled the surgery for three-and-a-half-hours - but the bombs had not grown into my lungs or the bone, as was suspected. They were still intact - miracle - and came out, whole.

I tried to comprehend the discussion taking place between Dr. Stanwix, my daughter, Dana, and my friend, Nurse Kitty. They were receiving instructions on how to care for my wounds, as well as describing what he found inside my chest cavity - the damage done by 40-year-old toxic bombs.

I was very out of it. Drugs and anesthesia were not part of my world, and it seemed there was a lot of talk about such mystery terms such as "nerve bloc," "oxycodone," "extra-strength Tylenol," "drains," and other odd things. I tried to ask questions, but there was so much chatter amongst them, all I could say was, "Hello. Someone talk to me." I also couldn't help but feel fortunate so many unique, talented people were intensely discussing my health.

Dana recorded the conversation, so I could later understand what needed to be done to heal. We drove home (a two-hour drive), and I fell asleep. Something was very different when I woke up at midnight: My eyes were not burning, red, or watering. They were actually clear white, and my sinuses were also clear. I could breathe easily - for the first time in many years. I wasn't coughing - thank goodness - because that probably would hurt. The bottoms of my feet and my toes didn't hurt when I walked to the bathroom. Walking had become so painful over the years, it was as if bones broke with every step.

Dr. Stanwix had told me many women experienced symptom-free phenomena after waking up, post op. I had hoped I would be one of them, but with my age and how long the bombs had lived inside me - I believed I could not possibly be that fortunate. It seemed, though, my lifetime of living as healthfully as I could - with avoiding drugs, smoking, alcohol, and adding exercise, and good food - mostly whole, fresh, ripe, raw, plant foods - had paid off. Or perhaps I was just "lucky?"

Dr. Stanwix further said the capsules he removed, surrounding the implants were crusty and may have mold. They were sent to pathology to determine what had been growing inside of me. He saved the implants so I could see how bad things were. Odd things had grown into the bombs. I had requested to keep them.

Why did I want to keep them?

Because I'm going to become involved in a class-action-law-suit to outlaw implants. Not for me ... but for all those young women who bought the farm - believed, as I did, the lies that implants are safe - researched - and would last a lifetime. None of these comments were true. Many women can't afford to have them removed and are suffering to death. I was sure I would be dead soon, as well, if I didn't get them out. I had felt the depth of damage done from the moment of implanting.

Recently, I've been told, "you should have had them replaced every ten years." That's not what I was told 40-years-ago. I was assured, "They will last a lifetime." Frankly, if I had been told to replace them every ten years, I would never have done this in the first place. Who wants to go through this hell - slicing open the chest, along with the associated pain and suffering, more than once? Your chest is flayed open, and huge plastic bags are stuffed into place between muscle, bone, lungs, and tissue. None of them are safe, even the saline implants are housed inside silicone/plastic bags. Ouch. Gross.

For what purpose?

The same result could be accomplished - giving you the look of larger breasts - by stuffing tissues in the bra. Less expensive and less painful. One man said to me, "why do women do this? I much prefer a nice butt." I gently responded, through clenched teeth, "It's not about you." Or is it?

Please don't get implants.

And if you did...

Get the "boob-bombs" out as soon as possible.

Your life depends on it.

Several women have told me how much they love having implants, and they haven't had any problems from them. I had no idea for all these years that the diseases I suffered, from time to time, were caused by, or exacerbated by the implants. If nothing else, the quality of my life was lowered - who knows by how much? My family will tell you - "a lot."

Implants are "time-bombs." You will suffer from them. It's just a matter of time. I look back and realize that my first dis-ease was IBS (Irritable Bowel Syndrome) and started the week after getting implants. IBS became more aggressive over time. The week before surgery, I was suffering from diarrhea daily. I was afraid to leave the house.

There is no better description of these horrible breast implants than "BOOB-TICKING-TIME-BOMBS." I earned the right to call them this because I'm one of those naive individuals who felt inclined to implant fake breasts to feel better about myself. Please don't misunderstand me. I'm not beating myself up. What good would that do? I'm just a little sad and disappointed that I believed I needed to have implants. I'm surprised that I would believe the so-called-experts about the safety of this insane surgery.

Life is a time-bomb in and of itself, actually.

None of us are going to leave this world alive, but why would we do things to speed that up? Or make it more unpleasant? I have to believe we would do nothing to speed up this dying process, knowingly. So, we get sold a bill-of-goods. We believe the claims that "Implants are safe. The research has been done. They last a lifetime. You will look great with these. I'm the best of the best surgeon. Movie stars come from all over the world to have me do their surgeries. Let me show you some more photos of what these happy ladies look like. You can look like them."

So, I looked at the photos and decided, why not? They are safe, and more importantly, they look great. Sign me up. No one mentioned they could explode, leak, or cause symptoms that could destroy my life. It was all good, according to the experts.

What does it take to finally figure this out? Or for them to blow up--explode, or mess up a life? It doesn't necessarily take a big event. It can only take a life-challenge, a stressful experience. A car accident. A death in the family. A breakup. A muscle sprain. A broken bone. An argument. A simple life hiccup, and then everything changes. Everything goes downhill fast. It just takes a general life-experience.

But it is what it is. And I am finally FREE.

Here's my experience since removal and what I did to heal:

Days 0: I tried to get in the hyperbaric chamber the week before - to prepare my body for a better surgery experience. Most individuals who do this heal more quickly. I was able to do three "dives" but not as deep as was required nor as long - my ears have been such a problem since I implanted. Flying caused extreme pain - and I'm a pilot. I bought the HBOT - in 2012. The boob-bombs caused such horrible congestion that my ears were a problem. Sarah, the HBOT lady, kept suggesting I get tubes in my ears, but I suffered thru.

Day 1: The surgery. I had the best "nurses" to take me and stay with me. My daughters, my travel buddy, and my high school friend - a retired nurse. Dr. Stanwix and his team were phenomenal, and he promised me ALL the capsule parts would be removed. This had to happen if I was going to heal from my 30+ symptoms. He kept his word. After the surgery, my eyes were bright and skin looked healthy. "You are glowing," I heard.

Day 2: Healing. No sunglasses needed. (I've worn sunglasses for five-years because of light sensitivity.) My team fixed celery juice and heavy metal detox smoothie first thing in the morning. I added B-12, Vitamin C, Zinc, and L-Lysine to stay healthy. Then they drove me to The Renova Center so I could dive, BEMER, PEMFT, Far Infrared Sauna. I was exhausted at the end of the day, and the drains, Dr. Stanwix put in place, were painful and awkward. Took Tylenol and Arnica as allowed.

Day 3: Healing. Celery Juice, Heavy Metal Detox Smoothie, HBOT, BEMER, PEMFT, and Far Infrared Sauna. Stopped taking Tylenol. Had not touched the Oxycodone. Pain was intense but bearable.

Day 4: Healing. Celery Juice, HMDS, HBOT, BEMER, PEMFT, and Far Infrared Sauna. No medications. I walked up and down the stairs - did not use the elevator. Longingly looking at the beach (wanted to run again), and the gym (couldn't wait to work out again.) My stomach was flatter and my breasts, even with the wounds and pain, looked feminine and of the perfect size. I began falling in love with myself - again.

Day 5: Healing/Living. Celery Juice, HMDS, HBOT, BEMER, PEMFT, and Far Infrared Sauna. I took an OXYCODONE pill, before the tubes were removed by my neighbor - a wound care nurse. I probably didn't need to do that, but the whole idea of pulling tubes out of the painful spots - grossed me out. The drug made me shake and nauseous.

Day 6: Healing/Living. Celery Juice, HMDS, Infrared Sauna. I have a dome at home - didn't want to go out. It just felt right to do nothing - plus, my nurses all went home today. I was anxious about driving, although I learned from others, they drove in 4 days - as long as they weren't taking meds. Since I was not, I planned to go back to work on Monday. Exactly one week from surgery. I felt fantastic.

Day 7: Healing/Living. Celery Juice, HMDS, Infrared Sauna. Walk on the beach. None of the annoying symptoms are coming back, and IBS has not been an issue. It's Sunday. I am grateful to my Father in Heaven for delivering me from the suffering from the dumbest decision I ever made: Implanting of BOOB-TICKING-TIME-BOMBS. I'm more thankful for the most significant decision I ever made: Explanting of BOOB-TICKING-TIME-BOMBS.

Oh, by-the-way, I feel forty-years younger and look twenty-years better. Really!



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