… for nothing left to lose. Kris Kristofferson, Me and Bobby McGee
At 06:00, I booked in at the hospital, bright eyed and bushy tailed. I had to get undressed and put on one of those reverse surgical gowns that never in a million years will cover your bum. After zillions of forms had been completed and I had been ECG-ed and my blood pressure and temperature taken, the anesthesiologist came to see me. He was a young guy and tried to put me at ease with un-funny jokes. I smiled to please him. My nerves were just fine – I was rearing to go. I had read Micah’s blog on surgery, Neutrois Nonsense, with excellent tips and advice (Thanks, Micah!), so I was mentally and emotionally prepared.
Then the surgeon came to see me. He was not wearing blue or green scrubs, but white, with advertising slogans. “Buy Shogun knives, I use them in theater.” Not really, but you get my drift. He had me stand up and started drawing magic marker modern art lines and dots on them udders, before taking out his little measuring tape to mark the areas where the nipples would be replaced. He said he was going to leave some fat, as otherwise my chest would look “wilted.” He told me about a surgeon who used to graft nipples to the bum area and re-grafted them after the breasts had healed. One woman did not want to have them removed from her bum, as her husband had become quite fond of her “bum-titties.” It takes all kinds…
At 08:15, I had to walk to the theater – a willing lamb to the slaughter. After being made comfortable on the narrow bed, the clown sent me to la-la land from which I awoke at 10:45 in the recovery room. The nurse asked me if I was nauseous and I replied that I was ravenously hungry for a plate of steak and fries! I seldom if ever eat steak, so I considered it a good omen for a changed me 🙂 !
I was taken to a general ward where I spent the night linked up to a monitor, on a drip and with drains from both sides of my chest. It was a bit of a hassle having to drag the monitor on wheels to the toilet, but I would willingly have dragged an army tank at that stage.
The next morning, the surgeon came to me on his rounds and discharged me from hospital. I had to keep the drains in. Yesterday his nurse removed them at his rooms. I am pain free on the pain meds, just swollen and with a slight burning feeling across my chest
I have however not been able to visualize my chest without them udders. My mind refuses to accept that that they are gone. “Seeing is believing, buster!” it tells me, so till after the swollen areas are no longer swollen and the taping has been removed, my brain sees virtual breasts. But I can wait, I have waited more than forty years for this day…