These last few days have gone by quickly. I’m healing slowly. I’m thankful to have Lisa by my side. She’s like the best ‘tucker-inner’ ever. haha. She caters to my neuroses: picks up the messes through out the house (no matter how small), cups lined up the way I do, lights my candles throughout the house, hangs my laundry, knows how I like my coffee, knows all the veggies I like in my eggs, knows that even though I’m hot my feet never are, doesn’t sugar coat things, just judge my anxiety-helps to calm me until it passes.
The majority of my pain in above my right breast where there’s a lump that I’ve been assured is not a hematoma and will resolve. The other is my armpit. It’s difficult to get comfortable. I’m retaining water like no other.
Also, I’m constipated. Shame on me, I know better. With being out of it the first couple days, I didn’t tell anyone about my probiotics so I was off those and I hadn’t added a stool softener. Yesterday, I was putting on real pants and realized my stomach wasn’t all squishy–it was distended and firm. And I counted…holy fuck 6 days. I’m literally full of shit. So I load up on bowel meds. I’m wicked bloated and uncomfortable.
On a positive note, I undressed myself solo today (lisa stood by to help). I was pleased to see that my nipples are starting to look like actual nipples instead of purple cones. I might have literally ‘eeked ‘.The left one is starting to shape nicely. I have no sensation in my left nipple but I do in my right, I’m a bit concerned about the right one that has so much pain. It’s slightly red, still has the lump and lightly warm to touch. I have been keeping up with my temp and I’ve been running a low grade fever but nothing to be concerned about. I have my post op appointment tomorrow so I’ll be discussing all of this tomorrow.
On an emotional note, I looked at myself in the mirror and reflected. All my life I’ve wanted these boobs. I’ve always had sad boobs. Never was there a time where Paul disapproved of my boobs. He always thought I was gorgeous and sexy and he never wanted me to alter myself. And so I look in the mirror…over a 180lbs smaller; all types of piercings; another tattoo; short hair; lost my double chin; no glassess; small perky boobs; slender arms. And I think…I’m totally different. My dad had said the other day ‘geez Jessie. Had I passed you on the street…I wouldn’t have recognized you’. I can’t help but wonder, would it be the same way for Paul. But then I take a step back and I reflect on the man Paul was…’I want you to be happy, baby. I’ll do anything to make you happy.’ I can’t tell you how many times he said that to me. I love that man. And, man, I sure to miss him.
