I'm watching bad cable at my parents' house in Connecticut, bored out of my mind. There is a commercial for some "ancient Chinese foot pad" that draws the toxins out of one's body. Could it draw out this pissy mood that has been developing in me?
What I have learned:
1. Running out of pain meds at the exact time nerve sensation returns is an excruciating experience. (Being numb and drugged up was much more acceptable.)
2. Two weeks ago I had no clue what my new chest looked like under this compression binder to prevent inflammation ("Where my nipples at~yo?") ~ where now I can "feel" the exact placement of the scars and stitches every time I turn my head, brush my teeth, put on my socks, walk up and down the stairs. Sleeping has been difficult as I spontaneously feel shooting pains under the surface of my skin that startle me in the middle of the night.
3. When people feel pain, it often makes them cranky and kind of annoying to be around. (These posts used to be "thank you for your support" and now it's "why I outta..." Pain management is important to survival and social acclimation.)
4. I feel like Elton John. I wear so many draped scarves to conceal my new flattened chest from my family that I feel like some 1970s emasculated pop star. ("ziggy dustbust-er?")
5. It is really humiliating to not be able to lift anything at all right now, when I have been very disciplined with weight lifting/training for hours every day for the past several months. I hate having people assist me with everything. My ego is as bruised as my impaired body.
6. To add insult to injury, apparently when one wants to get their breasts removed to have a more masculine looking chest they have to wear the nastiest grandma bra (compression vest) with 12 eyelet hooks down the front. (Only one more week to go!) I thought I'd be done with this shit, of wearing bras and such. Kill me!
7. Subtle fears are beginning to settle in... A fear that this pain/tightness in my chest will never subside. A fear that my scars will be freakish. A fear that I will need to be dependent on people to help more for a while longer. A fear that I will never find anyone to stand by me. A fear that I will never have enough facial hair for a big burly, grodie moustache.
8. Phantom limb syndrome totally exists. Despite having pretty much nothing left on top, and wearing that compression vest to mash down the rest, when I lean over to put on shoes, or pick something up, I feel like I have 37 lbs breasts that are violently ripping off my torso as I move.
On that note~I'm off to bed with my invisible gynormo breasts concealed in this granny bra, to only be woken up by shooting pains in roughly one hour. Merry f'ing Christmas to me!
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