Top Surgery: 7 Days Later

Posted: November 25, 2015 in Uncategorized
Tags: ,

Okay so it’s six and a half, shut up.

Basically, I feel fucking awesome.

This is a little selfie shot to show you what I had to lose. A pair of very big and heavy boobs. My surgeon told me afterwards that each breast alone weighWP_20151118_22_14_23_Proed 700-800 grams. That’s 1.5kg I just lost in four hours — fastest diet ever. And I only weighed 54kg to start with.

They knocked me out at about 12pm, and the next thing I knew, I was back in my room sans breasts. Fine by me, not remembering being intubated is an excellent thing.

I felt pretty rough initially. My reactions to drugs is to feel sick, and the normal blood loss of surgery drops my already perfectly normal blood pressure down into the dizziness and fainting category. I nearly fainted just lying down and had to have a fan on all night. The night nurse kept annoying me too. At the 2am observations, she said ‘you’re not very responsive.’ No shit, lady! Trying to sleep here!

I basically slept, only punctuated by nurses coming to check on me, from that 4pm realisation I’d been returned to the ward until 7am the next morning. At once I woke up at 7am and had breakfast, I felt surprisingly good.

This is the state of play at 9am when the surgeon came back and they cracked open my chest binder to check for bleeding or oozing. There was a bit of gunkiness on the left, so that had to be changed, but not before I snapped a fuzzy selfie. I felt pretty human, albeit sitting up was a big no-no. Sharp, burning pain where I presume the incisions had run under the breasts. Not comfortable at all.

But it was mostly discomfort, not pain, exactly. I needed the drugs more to get my chest muscles to relax and allow me to move around. I was sicWP_20151120_08_21_19_Prok only once, ironically half an hour before I was discharged and in response to my body’s chronically poor ability to swallow chalky tablets.

Then at 11am, we were outta there! The drive home was similarly uncomfortable, but still didn’t really hurt. I was given paracetamol for normal times, and codeine for if it got really bad. Six days on from the surgery, I’ve only taken codeine four times, and two of those still in the hospital. (And my tattooist will tell you I’m a pussy when it comes to pain.)

That said, it’s not all awesomesauce. Lying down to go to sleep wasn’t happening even four days later, though honestly that was more the compression binder I had to wear 24/7. It felt like it was squashing my ribs. Typing this, I have a vague throbbing in my left breast not unlike what can happen when you run without a decent bra, or when your period is fast approaching. I struggle opening the heavy doors at Boots, but it’s discomfort rather than ‘ohshitthathurts!’ and I get a stinging sensation around my nipples occasionally.

This was the situation at 10.30am when I was up and moving and getting ready to go home, and it’s pretty much the situation now. I’ve been wearing a compression binder ever since. My surgeon crudely put it as ‘getting everything to stick back on’ (mostly the nipple grafts) and by god do you know about it when you’ve been wearing a tight binder 24/7, asleep and awake, for a week. Plus I can’t shower because the dressing absolutely much stay dry, so it’s been bWP_20151120_08_47_43_Proaby wipe sponge baths for indecently long. Tomorrow, the dressing comes off. And hopefully, stays off. And I can go home and shower.

I went home Friday, and spent most of Saturday just lying in the armchair in the living room watching TV. But Sunday evening, I managed to put a t-shirt on over my head, and went to the theatre for a mate’s birthday. (I slept for eleven hours afterwards, but hey, still counts.) On Monday, I went for a mile-long wander round the shops and had lunch in a cafe. Getting back to normal daily life was pretty quick and easy, and aside from push/pull patheticness and a tendency to hunch over like an old man to protect my chest, things were pretty good.

I also had a bit of an emotional moment when I put that t-shirt on. My frame looks so much more masculine, in one fell swoop. I’m too flat to be female. It’s so obvious that there’s nothing left, even with the dressing and the binder, and I couldn’t be more pleased about it.

Bring on tomorrow and the banishment of this itchy binder!



  1. Good luck getting rid of the binder!


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