a journal. about
chest surgery. top surgery. boobs-b-gone. boobs-b-transformed. and others.

The following words are daily journal entries starting 5 days prior to surgery until one week after, at which point entries become biweekly. My primary intention with this was to talk about my feelings (wah!). I felt like there was a ton of stuff out there that was informative, but not much about the emotional process or more in depth analysis about individual identity, so here's my emo process in full effect. PS - yeah, it's a novel, so if you are looking for something very specific, you can try the Edit > Find option in your browser to search.

September 7, 2008 - 5 days to surgery

I am fucking nervous as all hell. The hospital called yesterday to pre register me. After I got off the phone I had that simultaneous sinking yet exhilarated feeling, this is real. I am really present in my life. I can make my own change.
I'm feeling somehow liberated today. Today, after 3 years of working out at the same gym, talking shit with old dudes in the steam room, having assholes walk by my bench and tell me I shouldn't lift so much, I'd get hurt, I finally had my name changed on the computer. As soon as I walked in cutie little gay boy K, whose been working there longer than I've been coming checked me up and down (as he often does) and said "any new ink?"

"Nope. I've got a whole body and a whole lifetime to decorate."

"God, I wish you were a guy."

I gathered my balls and said "I sort of am a guy."

The puzzled, yet slightly in-the-know look on his face of course lead me to the dramatic elaboration of my perspectives, binaries, boxes, the usual line of bullshit we recite like it's carved into the back of our hands.

Then, "yeah, and I'm having my tits cut off in 5 days."

He replied by congratulating me and kissing me on the cheek. I felt proud.
It's alluring the way people juggle between either congratulating you (sometimes they don't even know why they are, just that they are supposed to) or raising an eyebrow, or the ever coveted combo eyebrow-lip raise, which equals: disgust. Or in some cases, pity. Both equally lame.

I dreamt that I went into surgery, came out, and went through the first several weeks of recovery terrified to look at my chest. Then when I finally did, my tits were still there. And the struggle had added up to nothing.

Under anesthesia when I got my wisdom teeth pulled I visioned T and myself arguing, and me screaming and crying against a bright red brick wall. After I came to the nurse told me I was silently sobbing during the entire procedure.

Last week I started thinking, oh shit, what if I'm making the wrong decision. Then today, nope, I'm right. I'm scared, I'm grieving, I'm anxious and paranoid. Plus a billion other emotions... But know this is right. And this is what I need to move on.
I feel fierce.

Today at the gym the woman standing next to me, as I was having my name changed in the computer system, asked me why I was changing my name. I turned to her, displayed an ear-to-ear shit-eating grin and loudly exclaimed, "I'm a transsexual."
Fuck yeah to liberation.

September 8, 2008 - 4 days to surgery

Sometimes I feel like the word "community" falls under that vast umbrella of language that is completely inaccessible.

I dreamt that since I had surgery I might as well take hormones.

Fear of the day: I am afraid that I will wake up crying. Or I guess, not so much that I will wake up crying, but the fact that my parents will be there as I wake up crying. I am afraid I will wake up crying and they will not understand why, reifying their belief that I made a "bad" decision.

I guess it's likely that I will wake up crying… I hope to not contain my grief for the comfort of anyone else. My body and my heart need that.

L grew up in poverty, never had solid health insurance or trustworthy, or even half competent medical care and is therefore very judgmental and untrusting of the medical field and its practitioners. In a moment of processing aloud she exclaimed, "People die on the operating table!" Luckily I took it with a grain of salt. People also die when they get hit by a car walking to work. But, per her request, I wrote up what I guess you would call a will. Then it got me to thinking about my stuff. Like, who would want the random rock I've kept in a box for ten years that no one even knows is significant? Like I should write a brief explanation for each little piece of crap that I keep around. Each totem. Then break them down by personal value. Like this rock is more important than this scrap of paper, so if you must downsize keep the rock… ? The whole process was goofy and entertaining, albeit morose.

And my miniature plastic statue of the cheesy humor industry's saint of technology goes to…
And the photograph of my butt autographed by Annie Sprinkle goes to…

And by the way, you are not allowed to get rid of this quilt that my best friend from high school's mom made me for our high school graduation simply because I find it so utterly adorable and you getting rid of it, even in my incapacitated state (i.e. dead as dirt) would severely wound our relationship, forcing me to roll over in my grave.

September 8, 2008 - 3 Days to Surgery

I'm premenstrual. The staple symptom of my week pre bleeding is body self disgust. Great timing. I'm trying to suck it up.
I did a video diary entry today. I guess in some lame performative way I was trying to convey ideas about body image and cosmetic surgery. I don't think it was very successful, and now I'm covered in surgical marker that I can't scrub off with a billow pad.

Mom and Dad will be here tomorrow. I'm starting to freak a little. Xanax my friend, here I come. S and S#2 will be coming to the hospital with the folks and me. I feel that S#2's presence will help me be tough for myself. With parentals and lovers, it's often easy to slip into an emotional state. S#2 and I have similar ways of coping, and him being a rock will help me to be a rock also.

Fear of the Day: Death or incapacitating injury.

I was debating whether or not to ride my bicycle to work this morning. I spent the larger portion of the morning fantasizing of things that would happen to me on my way to work that would prevent me from having surgery in 2 days. The possibility of getting doored at a solid 14 miles per hour heading south on Ashland topped the chart, followed closely by riding into a garbage truck head on. Both scenarios resulting in a broken limb or two. However getting crunched to death between two autos in a head on collision (this fantasy strangle took place at the corner of Lawrence and Ashland), and dropping into a 10 foot unmarked construction hole (that happened to a friend of S' last year) were both high on my list as well. It would be my last ride for a good month. Believe it or not, this internal debate was hardcore enough to make me half hour late for work, as I swayed back and forth before concluding which mode of transport would bring the most fulfillment, and hopefully not kill me.

As is expected, I went the risky route. And I would be thoroughly satisfied I did. I don't know if it was because I knew I wouldn't be on my bike again for a while, or just the luck of the day, but what started as a death trap culminated in the most beautiful bicycle ride of the summer. Being neck and neck with the same cars at the same stoplights for miles, the wind at my back, pushing me along, soothing sun soaking into my face. All that shit. I could smell the fall starting to squeeze her way in, pushing for her turn. It was just one of those severely gay times when you are reminded that happiness is sometimes a very simple thing, like 4 green lights in a row.

Is regret worse than death? Do I even know what regret means? I've often tried to sort out events and decisions made in my life that one could consider to be regretful of. And gosh darned. I can't come up with a one.

Things have happened that I wished had not happened in the moment, but it is in my nature as time passes to understand why it happened that way, and what I gained from it. I've been pissed about the way plenty of things in my life have turned out, but never had that sinking feeling wishing I would have done it a different way. Maybe that means that I think too highly of myself, because I'm certainly not an optimist. I guess regret has to do not only with doing something "wrong," but how it is handled afterwards.

The fact that I can't pinpoint regrets in my life makes me feel a little less terrified of having them.

Completely off topic, The word "privilege" in a trans political world is like the word "juxtaposition" in art school – very alluring at first, almost exotic, especially to a middle class white person. Then over time the beauty found in the subtly embedded in the word's uses begins to fade, become bland, desaturated, and users and listeners become desensitized. Then the word becomes a token. The single word alone is passed between two or more people, in a matter of seconds suggesting we must be on the same intellectual/political level. This is where community becomes elitist. You must speak the language to be in the group. You must walk on egg shells to not offend. You must fear the judgment of your peers. It's easy to speak the word(s) without understanding them. Or to understand them but not have a frame of reference. Or to have a frame of reference but not grasp the subtle nuance of how the word is used in each context. Or I'm just being a bitch and am currently not interested in discussing passing and white privilege, yet it follows me everywhere I go. Not sure.

September 10, 2008 - Surgery is tomorrow

I feel good. Ready for the unknown. My parents are asleep in my bed as I wrap up last minute work and preparations. Already they (the rents) have been more amazing than I could have expected. It's like they are just there to support me and not judge my decisions. I didn't ask them to call me by Madsen or use male pronouns, as I sort of don't care, as long as it's just us and immediate chosen family.

I feel like I don't have any words. It's time. I remember three years ago I went through this period wherein I self imposed a rule stating that if I had not had chest surgery by the time I was 30, then the consideration should be fully removed from my list of woes. Self-restriction sucks, and I think this idea that I could dictate my needs was a form of internalized transphobia rearing its ugly head.

This is so strange and bewildering. To really have no idea whatsoever what something will feel like, or how it will make you feel. I think that generally in life we can make assumptions based on previous experience or accessible knowledge. For this, there really isn't anything. I can't go to the library and read about how I'm going to feel when I wake up. There's no handbook.

September 11, 2008 - The day of surgery

I woke up at 7:20 to take my daily meds and drink the last bit of water I could get down before the 7:30 cut off on fluids. I woke up my parents and S and we prepped for the trip. I took a nice long shower, just having one final thought of what I hope to obtain from this experience. Got into my pajama pants and button up, grabbed my pillow and me, the folx, S and S#2, and hopped in the car to head to Lake Forest.

At around 9:30, half hour before I was scheduled to be at the hospital, I took an Adivan to help with the anxiety. I generally get freaked out in hospitals and either faint or throw up when I get my blood drawn. When we got to the hospital I forced everyone to take goofy pictures with me in front of the sign. This helped to humanize, validate and lighten the process. When we got inside everything was marble and stone and fancy looking. I think my parents were set at ease a bit when they saw that the place wasn't like a drive through 1950s abortion. yikes.

We went up a floor and checked in at a second counter, at that point my dad and S#2 kissed me off and stayed in the surgical waiting room. S and my mom came with me into the pre-surgery room, where I changed (all the while taking ridiculous photographs, and hearing my mom tell me to stop getting more tattoos) into some cheesy/sort of cute hospital gown, robe, sock thingies, and cap. We waited a while before a nurse came in to draw my blood. After being fore warned that I often pass out at these types of things, she brought in a bed, and didn't talk about the procedure, and I did just fine. I continued to lie down as the second nurse came in to go over all my history. She spoke kind of in circles and I was a little confused by the overall timbre of her voice, but whatever. She put the IV in for the anesthesia, and also did a fabulous job, as I did not pass out. Then Dr. Steinwald came in to talk to me about the procedure and draw on my chest. He seemed super rushed and a little impersonal. I think my mom was hoping to get some kind of reassurance from him, I'm not sure what, but she definitely didn't get any. I was half expecting of this, as most of the reviews I'd read about him did say that he was often short and bustley during the surgery day. It didn't bother me, but I wished it had been a bit more palatable for my mom.

Then the anesthesiologist came in to talk over things with me, we talked about addressing my blood issues. And how the anesthesia would work. At this point I got a little emotional. S stayed with me while I cried a little, almost shielding me. This was one of my fears, that I would get emo, and it would make my mom emotional. I guess it did sort of, but she was great. She came up and hugged me and I sniffled something along the lines of it pissing me off that I had to do this…

Shortly thereafter I kissed mom and S off, and got wheeled down to the operating room. Once in the operating room, there were 5 or 6 people covered in scrub masks, and quietly going about their work. It was very weird and surreal, and felt like an alien experimentation, yet I don't recall being freaked out by it. I do however remember wondering if my chart had been switched with someone who was scheduled for an anal probe… I felt them start putting electrode things on me and the anesthesiologist telling me he was going to start the IV. Then everything from there on out is quite fuzzy. I don't remember anything from the surgery, except at some point someone was taking off the compression things that pump your blood up your legs. I remember sitting up in the recovery room, and desperately trying to wake up, but not being able to. It felt like I'd never been more tired in my whole life. I asked the nurse if my caravan could come in now, thinking that would help wake me up. She gave me some ice chips, which I quickly sucked down. Then some ginger ale and graham crackers, which I also swallowed like I'd never eaten in my life. The crackers clung to my teeth and tongue as they were parched dry. I was super excited that I didn't have any nausea at all. I wasn't in pain either. I didn't really feel one way or the other, I just wanted to see my family. Then after what felt like forever all 4 of them came bounding in all with smiling faces. And I replied with my own glowing face. First S and S#2 came in with a gay stuffed unicorn that they'd found in the suburbo gift shop, and my mom and dad came in with a singing-dancing flower that said, "it's a boy!" on it. In that moment I felt the most beautiful validation. Everything else is pretty fuzzy. I got wheeled out to the car, my mom and S got shown how to empty the drains, and then I slept the whole car ride home. I don't really remember getting out of the car and coming up stairs and into bed even. I remember S waking me up every few hours to walk around for a minute and keep my blood flowing. Then in the middle of the night I was walking around for a minute and got very nauseous. I had to sit down on the bathroom floor, my mom came in and sat with me through it until I got back in to bed for the night. I remember getting tons of texts from loved ones that made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. - This was written the morning-ish of the 12th, as the 11th was a bit of a blur.

Note - this came back to me a couple of days later. One of the things I do remember is walking from the car to my house, and this squirrel perched on a fence that was jumping around like it snorted some coke, and I remember being terrified that it was going to jump at my head. weird.

September 12, 2008 - The Day After Surgery

Whelp. I had surgery yesterday. I feel pretty much the same as I ever did. No waking up into a new person. Still the same old me. The bandages are really tight. And I can feel food and water as they go down my throat there is so much upper body compression and soreness from the breathing tube. I feel really happy. My parents have been amazing. Everything went smoothly. I feel so wonderfully loved. I can't really believe I did it. I guess the reality won't really kick in until after I see it. Which I'm terrified of doing anyway.

One time when I was a kid I had a head injury, and I was dying to take a look at the row of stitches. Then I did, and slid down the bathroom wall… needless to say, my weak stomach knows better that to look too early on in the healing process. I haven't really felt much pain at all. Sometimes I can feel it when I strain too much to reach for something. I thought I could feel one of the drains today. Also thought I could feel where one of my nipples was at, and sometimes think I can feel the incisions. After thinking I could feel things I went ahead and took a vicodin, just to be on the safe side. All in all, the only thing that grosses me out right now is how swollen my hands and arms are. It's really weird looking and feels strange to move my fingers and feel them so big they're touching each other.

I don't feel as immobile as I thought it would. I can move around pretty well. I get tired out really easily, but did go for a walk around the block with Millie (my dog) and my parents. They walked him of course. And that felt really nice to get out of the house for a minute and take a nice slow walk. I lied back down and put on a Looney Tunes disc I got off Netflix. Similar to when i was 10, me and my dad laughed our asses off. Sometimes I had to bite my laughter so I didn't move my chest too much.

L came in from the bay to stay with me for a week! Then me, S, L, and my mom went to the next day appointment. (my dad stayed home and fixed the dryer). We had to drive up to Lake Forest again, which was a pain in the ass, but ah well. We were in and out. Dr. Steinwald looked at my nipples and incisions (without taking off the bandages) and said they looked good. He said my right nipple was a little brown, and my left more pinkish, which was preferable. At this point I had to sit down for a minute… me and my weak stomach. He spoke fast, but happily answered questions and was clear with everything. He explained that I could remove my own bandages on Sunday (that's two days away) and wrap with an ace bandage. I know most guys get a compression vest, but I'm supposed to keep the ace bandage wrapped tightly for the first 4 weeks. Basically binding. Then if I'm draining less that 30ccs a day my drains can come out on Wednesday. When we got home from the appointment my mom and dad were ready to head back to Michigan. I had a bit of a super emo moment when we walked down the hall and my dad said the he could see the bounce in my step, and could see how happy I was, and he knew that I felt relief at having this behind me. It was the best thing he could have said.

After they left I totally cried my eyes out for a minute. Like I can't believe I've come this far. And through all of the sadness and struggle we've been able to make it through. And I haven't left them out. And they haven't left me out. Then I lied down for a nap. That was way too much activity. When I woke up I felt a million times better. R was over, and we chatted for a while. Then I sat down to write this. Now I'm going to lie in bed with L and R and watch twin peaks.

I guess at this point emotion wise all I feel is an insane amount of love. When shit hits the fan people work together in ways you wouldn't have expected and show their strengths beautifully.

Ok, now a breakdown of things I can and can't do –
I can not stand up straight at all, scratch my head, wipe my ass (well), wash my face, button my pants. I can sort of pull up my underwear after I pee, and I can sort of brush my teeth, but not well. I can sit up totally on my own. I didn't expect to be able to do this the first day after surgery, but it's not hard to distribute body weight amongst your quads, abs and ass.

September 13, 2008 - 2 days after surgery

Today was a little wacky. I woke up early with some pain in my inner arm, just above the elbow. I was a little worried, but figured it was the way I was sleeping, so went back to bed, and didn't wake up until noon. I still had the pain, and when I looked at my arm it was really swollen and warm to the touch and the pain was located directly above the joint. Then, based on my previous history, I started to totally panic, thinking I was getting a blood clot in my arm, (of course I know that clotting in the arms is much less common, and I was given a shot of Heparin in the OR, so I should be covered) even though it was pretty irrational. So I started freaking out, and took L and R with me. We went to empty my drains, as I was trying to play it cool, but my totally freaked out-ness took over. L called the Dr., who's on vacation for the weekend! But luckily we were able to reach him by cell. He was actually able to calm me down quite quickly. Explaining that my body was most likely just retaining fluids based on my positioning and movement, and that it was very unlikely that it was a clot. He told me to elevate my arm and massage the sore spot and keep on eye on the swelling. If it started going numb, then I should go to the ER. Though the thought of going to the ER is a nasty one, this helped me calm down. I lied down in my bed. R massaged my arm, while L skin brushed my legs. How'd I get so lucky?

The rents called to check in on my. Needless to say, I did not tell them about the morning's incident, as there was no need to continue the feedback loop of panic. After calming down, the day got better. I'm having some soreness in my tailbone from positioning, so I've been putting an extra pillow under my ass. It's a pain in the ass (heh), but no big deal. Sometimes I can feel this thing that feels like light vibration going along the right under side of my chest. I wonder if it's air bubbles in the drain or something… there is a little more numbness in my right side overall than my left, and my left side seems to be draining more. I'm hoping I get the drains out on Wednesday, but it looks like it might be tight. I'm draining like 60ccs a day right now. I got in some body care today.

Did a wash up and changed clothes. Took a walk down to Walgreens. It was great to get out of the house for a minute. Then took a crazy long nap, and felt much better after awaking. Still consistently throughout the past two days there hasn't really been any agonizing pain, just discomfort. I'm trying to start standing up a little straighter, but the bandages are wrapped so tight it's hard to, but when I can just a little it takes pressure off my back. My arm swelling has gone down a bit but still sore, and the swelling in my hands has down almost back normal. I can't wait to get these bandages off for comfort reasons, but if they could stay on comfortably until the incisions were completely healed, I wouldn't mind that either. I'm terrified to see what's under them. I have mostly full feeling in the left side of my chest, and mostly numbness in the right side, except the vibration type feeling. I haven't been nauseous at all, also haven't shat since weds. Yikes. Going to drink some senna tea and pop a vicodin here in a minute. N gets here tomorrow. Feeling pretty good overall, except worried about tomorrow.

Fear of the day - I'm particularly afraid that L will cut off the bandage and freak out, which I totally won't be able to handle. We've talked about it, and will see how we feel tomorrow, as to if it's the best idea for her to do the cutting. I don't want to see it yet, and I also don't want to be freaked out by the look on the face of the person who does see it. I get queasy, and this whole "unknown" business is tough enough.

I feel strong and proud. We downloaded the pictures we took at the hospital last night, and after viewing the slide show I had to just sit back for a minute. Like Jesus Christ. I can't believe I just did that. I'm either really courageous or really fucking stupid. It hit me hard. I'm hoping after tomorrow I lean toward the courageous side, however you can't deny the fact that they are slightly embedded in one another.

September 14, 2008 - 3 Days After Surgery

It feels like it's been like a week already. N got here today. We took a walk with Millie, and have been watching movies. He's great to just be with. We haven't done the bandages yet, and won't do them until L gets home in the next hour. I think I'm going to talk half of a Xanax or something so I don't freak out. Ah, modern medicine. I'm thinking it'll be okay though. I had vivid sex dreams last night, which was nice for a change, but of course I would have great sex dreams during a time when I can't do it, or masturbate. I've mostly been sleeping all day and watching movies. I feel a lot more cognizant and physically able than I thought I would, or that my friends in the know prepped me for I guess. That may be because my pain killer was Vicodin, as opposed to harder stuff, which some of my friends have had post surgery, which has a much more of a drugged out affect. I kind of wish I had that stuff, so at least these days would be groggy enough to fly by more. Instead I'm totally feeling stir crazy and dying to wear tee shirt!!! Also dying to go to the gym. Sigh. That one will be a while. I still can't believe I did this. I'll write after we get the bandages off tonight…

Ok. That was so intense for me. I was fine at first. It wasn't anything anyone was saying, or the sight of the wounds themselves, I guess just the whole nature of what was happening that was . L cut the bandages while N and S held the sides to avoid it falling on the drains. The cutting was pretty easy. Then we started peeling the gauze off the incisions. That was really gross, as they we soaked with 4 day old blood and Betodine. At that point I had to lay down on the floor for a little bit. I wasn't horrified by what I saw at all. Actually I was totally stoked at my left nipple. What I could see of it looked exactly like my nipple. I had hoped my nipples would still look like themselves. The right one wasn't so happy. It was kind of dark and there was lots of dried blood around it. The incisions looked fine. I don't know if I expected it to look like cuts or what, but they were just 2 fine lines. The surgical tape stayed on. And S and N hopped in the shower with me. Good family fun! N helped hold up my pansy ass while S helped rinse off. It was quite an ordeal. Afterwards we got fresh gauze for around the drains, and wrapped my chest with fresh ace bandages.

Phew. It was a bit traumatic, but good to feel semi clean. Most of my chest was pretty numb, but I could feel when and where it was being touched, which is a good sign that I will regain full feeling. We all found it interesting that Dr. Steinwald would have patients go through all that, as opposed to just having the patient come into the office for an appointment to remove the bandages. It was nice to be able to do it at home and not drive up to Lake Forest, but at the same time, that's a lot of pressure to put on untrained people dealing with a major surgery and recovery and all that. Of course for a Dr. it's like any other day, but for us it was super intense. But it's over and I'm not draining too much. Hoping I get these suckers out on Wednesday.

September 15, 2008 - 4 Days After Surgery

Today has been marked by the first day I was able to shit post surgery. 3 cups of Senna tea later, we have success. I feel much better, and it's official - My drains come out at 9:45 Wednesday morning and I can't wait. I've been super perky all day and feeling good about my chest and my experience (minus the unnecessary comment my mom said on the phone this morning).

During me and N's walk today I was secretly checking out my profile in each store window reflection, and silently gloating. When I look down and I can see my belly I just smile and rub it like a little buddha belly. My chest feels so good. Even though the drains are uncomfortable and the incisions are starting to itch, as they're healing, I feel fulfilled. I am very excited to watch the healing process. I Bought silicone scar strips offline today, and will start to use those to help heal the scars once the "wound bed" has dried completely. I guess meaning there's no more scabs or something. I don't have to worry about stitches, as the doc used the ones that are internal and dissolve. N and I are being ridiculous watching "Auntie Mame," truly one of Hollywood's finest. The week preceding surgery I was so worried about all of the ramped emotions that would be pumping through me, and honestly, I haven't been burdened by a one. I haven't had a single feeling of regret or fear or some kind of strange shift in self-perception. A surgery alone cannot change your outlook on life, or ultimately how you view yourself, as self-perception isn't really physical. I am happy to walk by a store window and see a flat chest under my shirt. It's a physical gratification, and is satisfying, and makes me feel better about how I present my body to society, but simply having my tits gone has not, and rightly so, changed my perception of me.

Can and can'ts - I am starting to stand up straighter, and all of the swelling is completely gone, except a little bit around my elbow, which is still tender. Can't reach above my head, or lift much more than a full glass still.

September 16, 2008 - 5 days after surgery

Before N left for home in the bay today, him, me and Millie walked down to the beach in the early afternoon and chit chatted that day away, in that usual amazing way we can talk about huge things, the most minute scraps of bullshit, or not talk at all… it was a beautiful, warm and bright day and I longed to be in a tank top.

Physically I'm feeling fine today. The walk felt really good for my body, though my left upper arm is still very sore, for some reason unbeknownst to me. Toward the end of the day I started getting kind of sore, so S and L rewrapped my bandage, which made me feel much better. There was dried blood and plasma in the ace wrap, as well as some fresh blood. The drain holes are open wounds after all, and it was sore, like gravity had been pulling on the bandage/binding, in turn pulling at the drain sites. Once the bandage was off the gauze that was previously wrapped around the drains was also pulling at the drain sites, as it was crusted with dried blood, then re-wettened with fresh blood. It was all really gross actually, and as usual I had to lie down. Luckily there wasn't much pain involved. I got to look at it again. The incisions look very fine, which lends me no idea as to how things will scar. Left nipple looks fantastic, right is a bit sketchy.

It's been a mellow day. I'm doing mostly everything for myself at this point, but still have a little trouble getting my shirt on and tying shoes. Things I can do now – scratch my head, put on my socks, wipe my ass (well), wash my face, reach a little bit.

Fear of the day – my right nipple will fall off. Even though I know It just sort of looks like a heap of crusty blood at this point. I'm hoping the doctor will wash it or something tomorrow when the drains come out, and there will be a nipple under the chunks of blood.

I can't wait to take that fucking shower tomorrow, or on a body care note, see the fucking chiropractor. My back feels like shit.
I was just rereading some of the previous entries, and am certainly pleased that I wrote them then day of, as now, all of these days seem to be blended together, and I can't really remember what all has happened! Maybe that is the fault of the painkillers, or more or less that all I've done is basically watch films and hang with loved ones. I have to say, this has been a wonderful way to take a "forced" vacation. Still feeling really good. Feeling nerves re-grow like little electric shocks here and there, feeling stronger and more confident by the day.

September 17, 2008 - 6 days After Surgery (one week since surgery!)

Today the drains came out. L and I drove up to Lake Forest to Dr. Steinwald's office. It was pretty zippy, we were in and out. Contrary to what I was expecting, the drain removal was not painful at all (granted much of this is because I have varied amounts of sensation). The doc was fast and efficient. He prompted me to breathe, I felt a little pressure, and like that, the first one was out. Side 2 – repeat. Done. He put some gauze over the drain sites and wrapped me back up, fast and kind of half assed. Note - most of the pictures I have seen of other surgeons' work includes a separate location under the armpit where the drains are inserted, however my drains went right into the end of the incisions. I don't know the significance of this, or why most doctors make a separate insertion point for the drains. L was awed by getting to see the drains come out, there's like 12 inches of tubing up in you. It was pulled out so fast I couldn't tell. I got to see both of my nipples and the incisions with no tape on them. Overall it looked amazing. The incisions were almost microscopic. They looked like irritated skin. I could barely make out the lines. My critical eye thought the nipples were a little small, but I think they will spread a little as skin re-grows and new tissue forms. My left nipple looks awesome, exactly the way it did before surgery except smaller and in a new location. The right however leaves something to be desired. It just looks like a heap of open flesh. The whole area where a nipple should be is open skin, so I have to keep a Band-Aid over it. The doc called this "blistering" around where the areola connected to my chest. He assured me that it would be fine, I wouldn't loose any of my actual nipple, it was just the surface tissue having a hard time healing. Or in his zippy response "oh, that'll bounce back by week four." L made a comment, "you sure talk fast." To which Dr. Steinwald replied, "yeah, I gotta work on that," just as fast as every other sentence that left his mouth." I have to wear the ace bandage as compression for the next four weeks. 24 hours a day for the next two weeks, then after that I can take it off sometimes, but should still wear it as much as possible. I'll probably try to continue it 24-7, as it doesn't bother me, currently of course.

While I was at the office I also received a very well written letter stating that I had undergone SRS surgery, and that it was Dr. Steinwald's recommendation that my gender marker be legally changed on my state identification and birth certificate. Mind you I have no current intention of changing these things, but thought it would be easier than trying to get letters down the road. The way it was written was vague, in that it didn't really say what "Sex Assignment Surgery" was. Which I think works in a male identified trans person's advantage, as every state has different guidelines as to what surgery is necessary to change a gender marker. Sometimes one must have a hysterectomy or bottom surgery, while sometimes chest surgery is enough. At this point something emotional sparked in me. Like it so awesome he wrote it that way, (granted it's a fucking template with my named plugged into it, but it had to be written at some point) I wonder if he understands the complexity of this matter, or if he is consciously trying to make things easier for "us." Then I thought, oh shit, I'm not glorifying the doctor who just gave me something beyond his understanding in exchange for a shit load of cash, am I?

This led L and I to discussion… for most folks it is very important that the surgeon performing their gender related surgery respects trans identity. Some people even praise doctors. I've heard such statements as "they truly respect us as people," and "he really wants to help trans people." However there is a stark difference between showing respect to an individual on a patient-doctor level, than being respectful of an entire way of being. Part of me feels like, jeez he's fantastic. He worked with me very attentively, listened to my concerns and then followed through with a very good job aesthetically. But on the same note trying not to grandise him as a human being. I know nothing of his morals. It's comparable to a lawyer-client relationship, wherein the client has confessed guilt. The lawyer still defends the client based not on morals, but on the principle of his high paying job. In this way pleasing his client, building his reputation, and gaining clientele, in turn allowing him to make more money.

I guess now that I've had surgery, I can understand a little more about how others who have been dependent on the medical institution can elevate people who are pocketing more cash per day than I could ever imagine, to some kind of godlike status. It's like that overall feeling of utter relief, creating a sense of general content is so so so grand it must be attributed to someone or something. It should be attributed to ourselves, not a doctor, for finding the courage to take action and the thoroughness to find the right person for the very particular job.

Anywho… L and I did some shopping and went home for a nap. Afterwards I de-bandagified for the shower of a lifetime. It was a harry process, as some of the gauze that was taped over the drain sight, tore some skin from under my armpit in the removal process. This actually hurt a hell of a lot more than the drain sights at that point. The skin is so sensitive that healthy tissue all over the vicinity is very easily damaged.

I can pretty much do everything except reach above my head. I'm getting tee shirts on now. I can get the baggy ones on myself no prob, but need help with tighter ones. I feel really limber, but my shoulder is bugging me, and I'm trying not to do too much, as it's only been a week. Several people have told me not to try having sex until after two weeks unless I want to rip a stitch… earlier I was like, I think I could have sex, then I remember the warning… have to take it slow, even though I'm impatient in every aspect of my life.

September 21. 2008 - 10 days post surgery

At this point in the healing process I'm starting to get frustrated with all the shit I can't do. I'm dying to get back to the gym, and I miss work and riding my bicycle a lot. My chest in general feels great. I still have a little pain on the sides under my armpits, and have a little "dog ear" action forming under my right armpit, but it was to be expected as I have lots of excess skin. Things are all healed to the point where there is no need for any gauze, but I do keep a Band-Aid over my right nipple to protect the scab. I put some strips of wound closure tape over the incision line where the drains were, as that was where the doc had put gauze after the drains came out. The only discomfort I'm in is in my upper arms and shoulders, which are really sore. It feels like a soreness in the muscles from lack of use. I'm getting around tons, have been on lots of walks with pals, and a bar trip and little house party all fine. I'm taking it easy but trying not to go stir crazy.

So far I've been changing the compression ace bandage every other day. Taking the bandage off, letting my chest breath (especially the right nipple, needs air to scab), for a couple of hours, then applying a little Neosporin to the nipple, Band-Aid, and back on with the ace wrap. I have no idea if this is any kind of proper process, it wasn't a prescribed thing, it just feels right to me.

Emotionally, I feel pretty awesome. I started my (ahem) period today, so I feel like hormonal shit is to blame for being a little mopey in general, but I sort of feel like the luckiest guy ever. I almost feel afraid to flaunt my happiness, like I don't want to rub it in or something. But I feel sexy, and the joy feels a little indescribable. The release is one of the most profound things I have ever felt. I didn't know it was possible. A pal across the country sent me a really beautiful card in the mail this week, congratulating me. Not because I was now in some kind of pretentious exclusive no tits club. But because I had made a really difficult and lengthy decision that was ultimately bringing me joy. To me, that summed everything up so well.

Another thing that has been coming up for me that was unexpected… I'm having thoughts like, wow, I feel so amazing, I can't wait to take T. I'm not going to run out and find a shot, but it's an interesting that I feel like my chest is "right," now I want the rest of me to be "right." I'm finding it kind of uncomfortable and disturbing, but trying to recognize my internalized transphobia and deal with it. I feel kind of like I've opened up a can of worms. Taking testosterone is something I've debated about for the last five years, so this battle of longing and refrain is not unknown to me, but it feels a little different this time. Like I've tasted the fruits… i know that waiting is always better than being hasty, but I sort of wonder why I restricted myself from having chest surgery longer than necessary. It's always my motto that waiting is better, but I feel like possibly in this case, waiting just made my head and heart run amok with fear, and made the process much more about suffering than was necessary. Whatever, we all have our own processes. But I'm now wondering if I can apply this same principle of waiting to taking T. hmmm.

This photographer was walking by a random old theater building, the kind that have been shut down and condemned decades earlier and no one wants the property. She snapped a photograph of the marquee. The letters read, "The Revolution is Just Around the Corner."

September 24, 2008 - 2 Weeks Since Surgery

I'm starting to feel even better. My body feels great, especially since i got to see the chiropractor today! woot. I can reach above my head now, but not straight up into the air. I can sit up and move around very easily. I'm cleaning my house and getting groceries, and stuff like that. I can lift about ten pounds in each hand, anything more is painful around my armpits. So basically at this point I can do everything except reach directly above my head, carry anything heavy, or drive. I don't feel weak the way I did a few days ago, so that feels really good. I feel like from here on out I will start rebuilding strength as I can move more freely, even though I can't lift much.

My right nipple is looking a lot better. See photos from 2 weeks coming soon. The seams (that's what we are calling the incisions now) are looking good. The left seam looks great, the right is still scabby. I'm still doing the Neosporin/Band-Aid routine. It sucks because the Neosporin moisens the scab, which is contrary to healing - you want the scab to dry out, and the Band-Aid and compression keeps it from breathing. But it's the best I can do, as if left uncovered the scab could stick to the ace wrap and the Neosporin keeps it from sticking to the Band-Aid.

It this point I still don't have much feeling in my chest. It feels weird, like I can feel touch, but it's tingly. Which is a good thing, as it means the nerves are trying to rebuild. The tissue in my chest feels hard, but I know it's not hard. It's just the way it feels weird, like it's foreign or something. The scabby right nipple actually has been hurting the past few days, so i'm sure that one will come back to life. The thing I really hope (which I don't even know if it's possible) is that my nipples can still get hard!

So, emo-ly, I'm a little sad I had too loose my tits, but I feel so good about my decision. I miss the little mole that used to be on my right areola, and I just miss them being there, yet when I look in the mirror I feel sooooo good. It's weird. I think it's more of a unfamiliarity with my new body. But when I see it I love it.

October 2, 2008 - 3 Weeks Since Surgery

So, it's been three weeks since surgery, and I'm starting to feel a million times better physically. I went back to work this week, which was excellent, as I take much better care of myself in general when I have some kind of routine. I've also been reviewing tons of footage for the documentary i'm working on, as we've entered post production, so I'm keeping plenty busy. Life for the most part has pretty much gone back to normal, except I'm trying to get used to having a full schedule again, so I get tired really easily after the end of a full work day plus an appointment or two. Also, I'm still not having sex (thought we've found some fun methods in the meantime - try feet), because upper body exertion, or working out - not until six weeks post, though I imagine I'll jump the gun a little on the sex part. i still can't reach completely above my head.

The nipple in question has come around (see 3 week pix), which is a huge relief. It's just got one lil pesky scabby spot on it, but doesn't hurt anymore, and is pretty much starting to look just like the other one. phew. I'm a little bummed on the feeling front. Lots of guys have reported having the pedicle procedure and having sensation directly post. I don't know what kind of sensation they mean - erotic, sensitive to pain, can feel touch, direct touch or distant touch, etc. - but it aint so for yours truly. Nope. I think I can feel everything, yet sometimes when S touches my chest, I can't feel that she's there. My right side seems to have more pain sensitivity (or is processing pain differently, seems very sensitive to the lightest touch) than my left. And spots within an inch away from each other are processing feeling differently. At one spot the touch feels very distant, at another it feels tingly (both good signs that normal feeling will return), then there's a 1/2 inch long area just above the left incision that feels dead as a door nail. Both of my nipples feel very distant to touch. I'm crossing my fingers. All this considered, I kind of don't really care, however pre surgery this was one of my main concerns. interesting.

At this point I'm very pleased with the aesthetic appearance of things. Good contour, good placement, etc. I'm hoping the skin on the right side under my armpit flattens down a bit, but other than that I can't really think of anything else to pick apart. Note - now that things are healing up significantly, bruising gone down, etc., I can see how some tissue has remained in my chest. Personally, I really like this aesthetically, as I'm a bigger guy, and would rather appear a little chesty than overly flat, however many folks want a flat chest, hands down. So if your goal is to have a completely flat chest, Dr. Steinwald may not be the best choice for you. There seems to be a little bit of tissue remaining around my nipples and a little bit of tissue above both incisions. However it is obvious to me that the only persona that can see this is me. Under a tight tee shirt it looks completely flat. The amount of tissue that gets left in your chest depends on how big you are to start with, as it's a percentage based thing. So my thoughts - if you are thin but have big tits, your chest may come out looking not as flat as you wanted. If you're a bigger guy with smaller tits, it would look great. If you're a bigger guy with bigger tits, it would probably look fine too, or if you're a small guy with small tits. There's my two cents.

I'm still wearing the ace bandage, but will soon start to wear it less often. The recovery guidelines stated that the ace bandage needed to be worn 24-7 for two weeks following drain removal (that's today), then could be worn when active. I'm stoked about this, because the surrounding skins, including everything covered by the bandage - my armpits and back, can start getting back to normal. The whole area is really sensitive and easily dry and tender because it's been covered so long.

In other interesting news, I've found it easier the past few days to cope with being "she'd". Not sure why that is... Maybe because I am feeling more comfortable in my masculinity.

October 9, 2008 - 4 weeks since surgery (One month)

I had my 3 weeks since drain removal check up and all was just fine. Dr. Steinwald seemed please with his work, noting the incisions were fading much quicker than usual. I have to say, I'm feeling like things are looking really great. I'm not sure how much of that really is that things are looking really great, how much of it is that i'm completely desensitized the the fact that my chest looks like it's been cut open and stitched back together (which i think is hot), or how much of it is just that I feel so much relief to have this behind me. It's so odd to think about how normalized this all is within my little sub-culture. I've had to disclose to several folks not "in the know," so far. The initial response seems to be a combination of grossed out, stunned, worried about my health, or in a state of dismay. Then once I explain that it was a choice I made and I'm very happy about it, they are like, oh, that's great then. It's so weird.

I've been thinking about visibility a bit. Many trans masculine folks are worried about loosing visibility as a queer person or a gender nonconforming person after medically transitioning (having surgery or taking hormones to pass. note-not all people who take hormones pass). Or worry about being rejected from feminist spaces or queer spaces. I don't pass, but most of the time I want to.

The word "man" doesn't feel right (unless I'm playing with it, using it in an ironic way). That's why I like to say I'm a manish. I guess I don't necessarily want to be seen as a man, because that would make people automatically assume that I was socialized as a biological guy, and therefore have that experience behind me. I wouldn't want people to assume that I have always had the privlege of being a white "man" in society. And at that a white straight man! I'm not straight at all, but primarily have relationships with femmes, therefore if I was to pass as male, I would look like a straight dude. I wish I could be seen as a trans person. Not have to be a butch girl or a straight guy. I have no idea where the world is going, but I hope at some point when someone goes to the doctor's office there is a line to mark on instead of a box to check. All this, and i still wish that I passed. It would come with a ton of crap, but sure would be better than always being seen by the world as (gasp) a woman. I'm a fucking transexual you dicks. I'm not a man, I'm not a woman. But I would rather look like a man. Visibility is about making your self visible. I'm butch, so I pass as queer. Femmes usually don't pass as queer, so they have to make themselves known (not that I can speak from a femme perspective). I don't know. I feel like so what. Now you have to make yourself a visible queer trans person, whereas before you were obviously queer.

I like the idea of passing, but still having an "F" on my drivers license. So I can pass, but still fuck with peoples' heads a bit. :-)

For some people surgery is just as much about all the shit I said in the above paragraph, as taking testosterone is. For me I feel like surgery has nothing to do with trans-feminist politics. It has to do with wanting to see your body the way you want to see it. You have big scars and weird nipples. Your chest isn't going to look like you were born that way, duh. I feel like testosterone has more political conotations because it allows you to (sometimes) pass as male. So I guess what I'm saying is, for some people having chest surgery is a bit deal because of political reasons, but political reasons had nothing to do with the struggle that was my decision. I have a lot more to say about this, including this idea of switching teams, or something stupid like that. But i'm getting bored and need a beer.

As of late I've been working a ton and life in general feels great. It's really strange to feel like I have nothing to process. Now, I could always rant or bitch about something, but I mean really process. I just don't feel that need right now. It's pretty cool. I feel really good about my chest. The only thing that I remotely think about as far as criticism right now is the small amounts of excess tissue (which you can sort of see in this weeks pix). Then I remember, oh wait, my nipples still get hard, bitch! So it's totally worth it.

October 16, 2008 - 5 Weeks Post Surgery

Emotionally I fee like a million bucks. Phsycial I'm sore as fuck. The new tissue growth has set in and is itchy and has a dense ache. There are certain spots along the seams (I guess they would technically be scars now) that are really sore, particularly the lines that are under and slightly to the sides. The scars on my right side look a little thicker that on the left, probably because I use my right hand/arm a lot more. The scars are really bright red, and for some reason, maybe because I have a shitty little camera, in the photos they look a lot more painful than they actually are. They are definitely bright read, but more irritated then painful. Skin is stretching and forming new tissue over where the incision lines used to live, so cest la vie.

I can reach straight above my head now, though I'm trying not to, because I can still feel some strain, resumed rigorous sexual activities this week, much to the delight of S.

The scars are looking kind of scary to me the last 2 days, so this morning I went ahead and applied the silicone sheeting I had got offline. It's supposedly the best kind of "scar management" you can indulge your capitalistic desires and yearn for beauty on. There actually seem pretty cool at this point. They are like stretchy transparent sheets of silicone that I cut to fit the size of my seams. One side is smooth while the other has a tacky stickiness to it, so they stick right to the incisions, but not like tape. And they are supper glassy thin, so they don't need to be held in place by anything, nor do they show under clothes. Apparently the secret is that they lock in the moisture, which is what scars need to mature faster or something like that. They are transparent, so I can still see the scars perfectly clear, so I don't have to remove the strips to take pictures. They stay on all the time, and you wash them periodically. Suggested usage time is 8 weeks to 3 months, so it's a commitment, and rightly so, cuz the bitches weren't cheap. Although I don't want the scars to look terrible, I'm not super worried about it, since the entire area including my upper arms is covered with very visible stretch marks, so whats a little more scar tissue added to the map.

Even though having chest surgery has not made me the slightest bit more passable as male in society, I feel a kind of new found comfort in my femininity. For a long time, even though I really wanted to, I restricted myself from wearing rings, or earrings that might draw attention, feeling that they would make me appear too feminine, drawing away from the masculinity that I so desperately wanted to be visible. Of course I know that men can wear rings and earrings just as easily as women or anyone else inbetween for that matter. But there was a hesitancy… I think having to do with disclosure. Like the random times people call me "Ma'am" and I ask then not to, and state that I am transgender and use male pronouns (Which I rarely EVER do). Like if I stated that to someone while not only physically appearing female, but accessorizing in such as way also, it might not click, or make any visual sense or something. I dunno. Even though I know it sort of doesn't matter what you are wearing, they will still see a girl, I somehow found comfort in knowing that I was trying to combat that, even if it meant sacrificing something that I enjoyed. It's SO important to fight the stereotype that men can't be feminine, yet for a non-passing trans masculine identified person, it's completely different.

This kind of falls under the different kinds of self restrictions that trans people impose on themselves to make society more comfortable with them, or accept them more. What the fuck?! Why do we do this to ourselves? Why do we crave acceptance? I guess not all of us do, but I definitely do, no matter how many times I say that I don't, and declare that there is beauty in resistance and fucking "normal" right up it's straight white ass, I secretly, as most of us do, just want society to see and accept me as a trans person.

Anyway, where I was going with this ranting story… I am starting to feel safer. Like I maybe don't have to impose that restriction on myself. Knowing that I have taken action to make my body look a little more like how I feel (masculine) encourages me to express my body in the more feminine ways that I enjoy. What can I say, I mostly date girls, but I'm kind of a faggot. And through my entire "transition" (coming to realization, making choices, etc.) it has been a constant and important thing for me to not negate or belittle women, or femmes, or femininity. Just because it didn't so much work for me, doesn't mean it is not beautiful and valuable. I love women and femmes! And am not only attracted to them, but respect their choice of identity. There's lots of trans guys out there that reject their own femaleness in the most fucked up way by express outright sexism, misogyny and hatred toward women. We like to call those F to DBs. Female to Douche Bag. Just because it didn't work for you doesn't mean it doesn't work just fine for others, dude.

On this note, I got a really rad email from a distant friend today. She said she was really not surprised (when I came out as trans to her 3 years ago, and recently told her that I was going to have chest surgery). Even though, she said she wasn't surprised, she said she still somehow always felt kind of like I was a big girl. I think this is really valid, as it relates to the idea of being "girly." Like being faggy. I have a crazy high pitched laugh/scream combo, and sometimes make the gross hands when I'm turned off (you fags know what I mean). And I like to gossip and be fashionable. Yeah, I am kind of am a girly guy. And I feel okay about that, way moreso than I have in the past, since I have taken action to state my identity to the world through altering my body. Hopefully that makes some sense, cause I'm fumbling for words here.

October 30, 2008 - 7 Weeks Since Surgery

Welp, it’s been 7 weeks since surgery and life is pretty good. I am happy with my decision every day. It almost makes me realize how unhappy I was before, even though I tried to carry it off (having tits) as though it was just another one of those life things to deal with. I can’t believe how much more comfortable I feel in my body. Just moving, walking somewhere. Feeling less like I had to conceal any signs of femininity.

On this same note though, I have had some new things come up for me recently. For the first time since I’ve come into awareness of my trans identity, I sort of feel ridiculous. I feel like I’m walking around demanding that people use this male pronoun with me, even though I obviously look like a fucking girl. I know some of that is internalized transphobia, and some of it is being in this new “in between” place (though I don’t feel anymore in between now than I did before having surgery). I guess I’m just feeling like the world couldn’t possibly understand me. like I’m being laughed at, and just want to be accepted. Yet, being in freak space has always been my preferred way. I like not fitting, I like being visibly different, I like fucking with political and cultural norms and making people question what they are seeing, or how they think about things. So what’s with this the world thinks I’m a joke thing? I don’t get it. And I feel really emo about it.

I’m reminded of this interview that S#2 and I did for a very popular gay podcast which shall remain unnamed. They said that we were “born women but choose not to take any hormones or have any surgery to change their bodies. So physiologically they remain women, but in their minds and in their lives they are men.” In our minds we are men? What the fuck!? Like we are misguided or maybe we’re just bitter lesbians, or perhaps we’re schizophrenic or paranoid or have some other mental disorder that would enable “our minds” to mislead us. Right, in my mind I’m a man, sure. Even our own people misrepresent us, like there is something inherently wrong with not identifying with the sex you were born with. Come the fuck on. Yes, I have ovaries, which I’m about to rip out so I can bash your ignorant ass over the head with them.

A few days ago I got blood work done to test my hormone levels. Not like I want to starting shooting T tomorrow, but just wanted to see what was going on. Like maybe I have something going on that would prohibit me from taking testosterone anyway, problem solved, debate over. Or maybe I have some wacky level of male hormones that would enable me, like gee no wonder I think I’m a guy, I’m ready for my injection please. But no such luck. Everything came back normal, normal, normal, with an outstanding liver function. Sigh.

Physically I’m feeling good. I went to the gym for the first time this week. Just did cardio and some really light weight. The steam room was a godsend. Everything feels good, but I have one stitch poking out around both areola. The surgeons office said I could come in to get them removed, but my regular doc said they would either dissolve, or my body would force them out, and I’d rather not take another trip up to Lake Forest if not necessary. They’re not bothering me any, just that I know they’re there makes me want to pick. So skin will probably heal over them, then in a few months I’ll get to pop ‘em like a pimple. Eew. Heh. I’m wearing the silicone strips around the clock. They get dirt and sweat grime stuck to them very easily, so I’ve been taping them down to avoid that. The scar along my ride side hurts a lot first thing in the morning if I have slept on my right side. Which blows, because I can only comfortably fall asleep on my side, then I move around a lot once I’m asleep. The scar on that side is also much wider than the left. No pictures this week cuz of bad timing with the strips, but there will be new images at the 2 month mark! Woot.

November 14, 2008 - 2 Months After Chest Surgery

So, my life has pretty muched returned to "normal." I spend my time worrying about things that are NOT my chest, which is a wonderful feeling. Everyday, I am completely happy with the decision i made. The practical stuff - I've still been wearing the silicone strips to try to manage the scarring, but i did go about 5 days without them last week. They're kind of a pain in the ass, but i'm sure hoping the scar tissue lightens up. It's pretty intense. There is one spot along the scar on my right side that is sore from time to time. The tissue itself is tender because the new skin is more tight than the regular skin around it. I still cannot lift as much weight as i could before surgery. I didn't really realize how much my muscles had atrophied until recently. I felt back to normal, but after testing it out, my muslces are still not back to where they were.

Regarding the stitches poking out... I have left them alone, and they seem to be dissolving more, and not bothering me. Hmm.... that's all I can think of right now. I guess I would definitely say that 2 months is the marker where I could pretty much do everything and feel like my old self, minus boobs. I'm feeling pretty stoked about the spot I am at in my life. :-)

January 15, 2009 - 4 Months After Chest Surgery

I can’t believe it's been 4 months since surgery. Though I kept feeling more and more healed all the time, I now know that it definitely took a solid three months before I started feeling relatively the same. I feel like the realization of immobility and muscle atrophy didn’t really kick in until the 2nd month, when I went back to doing things and realized my body was processing those activities completely differently. When I started playing my bass again, my entire shoulder and arm muscles burned, as if they had never held the instrument before. It was kind of depressing for a bit, but after the third month my muscles came back around. I feel like only recently, at month 4, are my muscles fully back to their full function.  It feels like the rest of my body has finally finished processing through the dramatic change and has embraced this transition.

The winter henceforth has been kind of tough, but not nearly as bad as some in the past. Winter in the Midwest is hard.

The details: My scars are REALLY intense (see pix).  I haven’t been caring for them super well either. As much as I thought I would be completely anal and obsessive about scar care, I sort of don’t care that much.  It actually feels that way a lot. Things that I thought would be such a big deal, I just don’t really care. I don’t have full feeling in my nipples, or along the top parts of the scars, which I thought would be very difficult for me, should the outcome of my surgery result in that. But it hasn’t been. My one nipple looks kind of fucked up, but it’s just not that big of a deal. I really thought guys out there that were sooooo happy with their results – even though I thought they looked like shit- were completely delusional, and obviously just hated their tits so much, and wanted them gone so badly that they didn’t care what they got in place of them. Welp, I think I was wrong there. I do think that mentality exists, but not for everyone. I did not “hate” my tits. I just felt that they were really out of place and it caused me a ton of emotional distress all the time. I guess your body becomes accustomed to the new way things work, and just grows comfortable with it, or at least accepts it. And my chest does not by any means look perfect, yet I am happier than I was with tits. I like touching my chest. A lot. All the time. It’s kind of like a nose picking habit, and you just do it in public all the time and forget that there are people around to gawk at you. I also like touching my own nipples. And like other people touching them. It feels very distant, which makes it much more comfortable, strangely enough. However, because the pain/pleasure sensation is processed so differently, as nerve growth has been cut/healed/shifted around, my nipples are SUPER sensitive to pain in particular, so they can’t be yanked on or bit.

Update since last time – I gave up on the silicone scar strips after 6ish weeks, cause every time I would work out they would get all disheveled and sweat gunk would stick to them, so I ended up being able to wear them for less time, in turn causing me to go through my 8 week supply in 6 weeks. And at 100 bucks for 6 weeks, I couldn’t swing it for another 2. And I don’t think it did a damn thing anyway. I guess if I had to attribute anything to the scar size… I sleep on my side or stomach with one arm above my head, and that’s the only way I can really fall asleep. I tried to sleep on my back for as long as I could while healing, but after 3ish weeks with no more drugs I had to go back to my preferred sleeping arrangement, which I’m pretty sure helped stretch out those beastly scars. And I became horribly impatient with my activities and decided that I would rather have big scars, than restrict my movement anymore. I saw Dr. Steinwald this week for a check up and he seemed sort of dissatisfied with his work, at the intensity of the scarring. It doesn’t bother me so much, and based off other scars I have, I know it will lighten up dramatically around the one year marker. We chatted a bit about a weird flap of skin hanging around under my right armpit, may just snip it off at some point, but I want to wait and see how everything looks after 6 months.  Woohoo!

oh yeah -regarding that stitch that was poking out... about a week ago i got this zit on the edge of my nipple, so naturally i went in for the pop. To my surprise it was not only full of puss, but the remains of a stitch too! it was nasty. nasty and fun though. it healed up fine.

February 22, 2010 - 1 Year and 4 Months After Chest Surgery

In case it's not completely obvious that I've been trying to get to this for six months, please, allow me to confirm your suspitions... A lot has happened since I last wrote.  Dramatic closure of a relationship, beginning of a new relationship, finishing a major motion picture (jk, sort of) finishing a new album, loosing a job  :-(, collecting unemployment, :-), applied to graduate schoolz for fall 2010, now just waiting for my life’s work to be judged and regurgitated back to me on 30,000/year platter. Winter in Chicago is kicking my ass. I started taking a low dose (like a ¼ of a dose that someone would take to “fully” “transition”) of testosterone February 9th. I’m hoping to be at a full dose by next year. I chose to move very slowly in hopes of allowing my vocal chords to stretch more slowly and evenly, as my primary fear is of fucking up my voice. However, I’m also not super stoked about all the bullshit that’ll come with looking like a man, but sure as hell hoping the benefits (like that cliché feeling of ‘matching,’ and not being ‘maam’d’ every five seconds) will outweigh the negatives.  I’m most certainly not looking forward to having to use a piss stink men’s room, then have to use a stall, then be afraid that I’m gonna get my ass kicked when I walk out because the dudes can tell the difference between the sound of piss that comes out of a cunt versus the sound the piss makes when coming out of a dick. Did you know that dear reader? I just learned it from J and G recently and was a lil horrified. The force of the stream is different, the way the pee hits the water is different, because there is a further distance for it to travel before contact. Little tid bit…

In terms of surgery, where I’m at in my life right now is so far gone from that experience… it’s like another memory of something really intense that I accomplished. Every minute of my current life I am happy about my decision. Even with all the downfalls. People seem to somehow think that it’s like everything you’ve ever wanted or something. Goofy if you ask me. It’s a big deal, and soooo gratifying, but there’s still shit. There’s always shit. And by shit, I mean downfalls. I never regained nipple sensation. Sometimes I think it’s there, then it’s not, then it’s there a little bit around the aereola, or in certain spots. I think that most of the time when I think I’m feeling it, it’s predominantly psychosomatic. I want it so badly that I’m willing it. And it does make me sad. Especially in those tender moments when my lover grazes my chest with his hands and mouth. My mind LOVES it, I just wish my body could receive it differently. Sigh. Can’t have everything!

Though I do have ‘a dog ear’  on the right side, the contour of my chest overall is remarkable.  Not having a full mastectomy was definitely the best decision I could have make for myself. And most importantly, I think it looks and feels hot. The scarring is a little intense, but I think it will still settle down a lot in the next 4-5 years. I gave up on scar care after a couple of months because it just seemed to not be doing much. AND, this is so gross, I found another buried stitch – a YEAR after surgery. Needless to say, the, eh, extraction (zit style poppin’) of said stitch was quite a sight.

I’m still working on a lot of things I was working on before surgery (gawd, that makes it sound like I’ve made no progress! Wrong!) like self love, and body acceptance and all that shit that I feel is a life long process. I’m not feeling super good in my skin right now. Maybe it’s winter, maybe it’s hormones, maybe it’s stagnation, maybe it’s anticipation. I’m not sure.