Twenty-one days to my appointment with the plastic surgeon for top surgery, but who’s counting? It is an emotionally loaded time for me, a-difficult-to-put-to-words feeling. It is a combination of excitement and expectations of a dream about to become true, combined with a horrifying fear that something will go wrong. I’m a child visiting a circus for the first time, wide-eyed and expectant, with the circus top looming high above, the masts rickety and swaying in the wind.
Some days you just want to sink to the bottom of the ocean in a yellow submarine and stay there.