Medical ethics

I Signed Away My Dignity At The Doctor’s Office

Why does my surgeon need the right to tag my pictures on social media?

I was sitting in the exam room wearing a front-opening gown, looking at a breast implant display.

I don’t want implants, but I would like to have a tiny bit of work done to make my post-lumpectomy breast better match the other. If the insurance gods smile upon me, I just might be permitted to have a little bit of belly fat injected into the affected breast to take the place of the lumps that were removed.

It’s not enough for me to ask for this.

It’s not even enough for the doctor to agree it needs to be done. He said the differences are subtle enough that the insurance might not agree to pay for the work.

Besides, my lumps could best be described as pre-cancerous. And because they weren’t actually malignant — yet — maybe my insurance won’t cover anything at all.

My medical team said the lumpectomy was necessary. I mean, I didn’t put myself through that hell for fun.

So a nurse shot a series of topless photos, which will be sent to my insurance company, where unknown persons will peer at my naked breasts and decide whether I deserve restoration.

Perhaps it will be Earl.

Earl — and yes, that’s his real name — is the sonofabitch who wasn’t going to allow me a second breast biopsy when the first one failed to target the correct area.

I can just imagine Earl and his co-workers spending a day hard at work, deciding who can and cannot get insurance coverage for their breast care.

“Which one are you working on?” I imagine Earl asking his colleague.

“It’s a 19-year-old with yummy 36 triple-Ds who wants a reduction. Whatcha got today?” I imagine his colleague saying.

“I’ve got an old bag. I say we deny both of them surgery. It would be a shame to make those boobalicious tatas on the teenager smaller, and there’s really no point in doing anything to the lady with the lumpectomy because nobody cares about old boobs. Anyway, I’m off to lunch.”

You don’t think that’s how it’s done?

Prove me wrong.

All I know is, explicit pictures of my breasts from several angles had to be sent to my insurance, and this is making me mad. Why in the hell do they get to decide? Shouldn’t this be between my doctor and me?

It’s not because I’m too shy to show my breasts. At my age, I have almost no modesty. I lost much of it giving birth. I’ve seen rock concerts with smaller audiences than the one I had as I pushed my daughter’s giant head out of my vagina.

I’ve even posted pictures of my breasts on this very platform. That was a choice I made for myself.

They are my breasts, and I should be in charge of their public appearances.

I’m not, though. I signed away my rights.

Afterward, I became upset with myself for signing the release.

“I agree that the Clinic may tape and photograph me, and record my voice, conversations and sounds in connection with my treatment by Physician at Clinic related to the Project, and that Clinic shall be the exclusive owner of the results and proceeds of such taping, photography and recording with the right, throughout the world, an unlimited number of times in perpetuity, to copyright, to use and license others to use, in any manner, included but not limited to: television, print media or the internet, all of any portion thereof ….”

My boobs: Coming to you soon via TV and Internet, forever!

I can’t complain if I think the photograph, video or sounds are unflattering to me. I waived my right of inspection or approval of my appearance.

I literally signed away my HIPAA rights. Without even thinking twice about it, which is not like me. Not only can this practice use my boob pics — they can license the pics to others, who can then use them forever and ever in any way they want, whether I like it or not.

I get that my 57-year-old breasts — one freshly lumpectomied — are not a hot commodity they’ll be selling to eager buyers worldwide. It’s the principle of it, though.

I am pissed at the system, the practice and myself.

We are all conditioned to automatically sign whatever paperwork we are given at a doctor’s office. It’s not like you have any control over any of it. Do you want to see the doctor or don’t you?

But when I had a nasty upper respiratory infection, the doctor did not insist I sign away my HIPAA rights or agree videos of my hacking up phlegm could be used on the internet forever. I just got some medication.

I actually don’t care if pictures of my breasts are used — without any identifying information — to show other women my age what to expect if they considered similar surgery.

It’s easy to find before-and-after shots of young women who go from flat to buxom. It’s harder to find before-and-after shots of women in their 50s who had some kind of cancer-related surgery. I’d have no problem with my pictures being used in that way.

That’s not what that release asks for. It goes far, far beyond that. And as I said, it’s not that I’m so overly modest about my breasts.

Here’s how un-shy I am about this.

After a prolonged time of waiting in the exam room, I picked up the largest implant, mashed it between my breasts and shot a silly video. This is what I say in it:

“This is what I’m having done. We’re just going to do a quick little addition so that I’ve got three.”

I thought I was freaking hilarious, and I knew it would make my desired audiences — my husband and my friend Berlin — crack up. Unfortunately, if I were to post that video (which I absolutely will not be doing) you’d hear the doctor walk in while I’m recording, which was mildly embarrassing. I was … busted.

Well, I suppose I do have another option.

I could post that video all over social media and tag the name of the clinic in it. They want the social media handles of their patients so they can tag themselves on their posts, as you can see on that form. Imagine the business they’d get from my video!

There must be thousands of older women interested in giving a whole new meaning to “triple-D” breasts.

The “D” does not stand for Dignity.

Why not make a day of it and read more about my breasts?

About me:

I’m a writer in central Illinois. Find me on Substack, Mastodon, Twitter or LinkedIn.