Ok, guys, as I expected, overall, the surgery was a breeze. Seriously.
Details: It has been 8-9 hours since I left the office (around 1 p.m.). I had a moderate-to-large case of adolescent gyne that was probably exacerbated by old age (53). I have a feeling two fists of fat and gland came out; I didn't ask. Dr. Jacobs went through the nipple on one side to get more gland, in addition to lipo. The other side was lipo only.
Bottom line: So far, the guy is a total pro, as is his staff; this is the NFL of office surgery, guys. Total A game. Anesthesiologist present. Nice UES doorman digs. Friendly people. Name surgeon. (All of which is why you pay the big bucks.) I half-expected a glass of wine before going under. And I actually showed up in his office just yesterday for the very first time, after e-mailing details back and forth for a couple months. (Oh, it's quite nice spending a couple days in Manhattan, too.)
Anyway, what happened? I was relaxed to start, had a few chats with the docs, had the needle prick my hand under a nice comfy blanket, then kicked back and woke up. That's it, guys. No drama at all. Allegedly, I was singing Margaritaville under sedation. It was playing on the stereo, I was told.
But let me stress there is, after an hour or two, some discomfort and swelling and occasional pain (think bad back pain in your chest or bad sunburn) that comes and goes, and, yeah, the vest/brace thing I have on is going to become an annoyance, I know.
On a pain scale, however, this is nothing like braking a bone, tearing a ligamant, serious surgery, a bypass or anything like that. Seriously. It's a lot like a colonoscopy knock-out or dental-knock out. This is not 18-hours of brain surgery with general anesthesia. Or even an appendectomy. A bad cold or the flu will lay you out a whole lot more than this. Seriously guys, I'm not being macho here -- my wife will attest to how much I have hate pain -- but I have only been moved to take two extra strength over the counter Tylenol in the past eight hours, so far.
Results: If I look good in a tennis shirt and okay shirtless, that will make me happy, and I've been told that such an outcome is very likely. After surgery, I've was also told I'm going to be flat, presuming I do all the follow up, and my old, sun-burned skin tightened up better than expected. So, time will tell what the final outcome will look like, and I'll post from time to time with an update or anyone can post or email me with specific questions.
Here's a very honest final thought, though, especially for all you guys under 30: DO IT. You are a fool if you don't (if you want to). Seriously, anesthesia and procedures have improved dramatically over the past 10-15 years. When I was your age, I had few options besides general anesthesia, major surgery with heavy bleeding and a real real nasty scar. Now, sh-t, guys, seriously, we expect chicks to get boob jobs, and this is probably no worse at all. I will personally coach, hold hands whatever by phone or e-mail any guys who needs some help getting thought this.
Telling people is a breeze, too. Guys, do it. Talk to me. It's the friggin' 21st century.