Top surgery, part 3

6:00pm, day 4 post-op.

Yesterday morning I had my first post-operative appointment with Dr. Brownstein. I had been hesitant about the removal of the drains and had considered requesting that they remain until Monday, as at the event of their last cleaning there was a significant amount of fluid yet.

While in the waiting room during surgery, my mother had made friends with the mother of another young transman — incidentally whose surgery was scheduled immediately following my own. The similarity was discovered after Dr. Brownstein came to give them both updates while her son was being prepped, shortly after my release to recovery. This was a fortunate occurrence indeed; as we realized after meeting that not only are we exceedingly alike in history, perception and surgical experience, but also that they are in possession of a car and are vaguely familiar with the bay area. It so happened that his post-op appointments were scheduled directly after mine, lending the opportunity for us to carpool to Dr. Brownstein’s office for this first.

“Oh, you’re awake,” he said, somewhat amusedly, at the sight of me.

I was taken in first and instructed to lie back on the exam table. After some minor struggle unwrapping the binder, the at least inch-wide padding was removed from the right side. As he began clipping the sutures around the drains, he prepared me for the imminent yet minor pain to follow as he would detach the tubes. The right side having been the most localized pain throughout the past days, I was not entirely prepared at the moment in which he decided to pull it; although it was not altogether too painful, and ceased nearly immediately. The left side was barely felt at all; though the acutely unique sensation of a tube being pulled through a small hole cannot possibly be analogized or explained.

Following the removal of the drains, he also cut off the thick pads of gauze surrounding the areolar grafts. I don’t recall noticing any sensation at all during this; although, as we both discovered later, it may have been due to the fact that the surgical site is almost completely numb to the touch; which I had both failed to notice and anticipate.

“Do you want to see?” he asked, brandishing a small mirror in my vicinity.

Unsure of what potential horrors I would encounter from a head-on view, I waved away the mirror and glanced downwards across my torso: the thin, pink outline of the incision wound its way in a flattened semicircle just below my armpits, to meet at the center of the sternum. The areolae were half their original size, flattened and symmetrically grafted; although they were extremely bruised and for this hardly recognizable. The tissue was slightly dented where the nipple gauze had been squashed against it, though it will recover in some days. Most obviously, the area was entirely flat. I could see a few fading purple marks where the incision was made; the rest of them lost on tissue no longer in existence.

“Holy shit,” I said.

Small, flat rectangular gauze pads were taped over my nipples, and two larger pads to cover the chest before reapplication of the binder. Sans drains, I was surprised to find that there was no longer almost any pain at all, even raising my arms horizontally to put on my shirt. Standing was easier as well; as the original bandaging had rendered a straight posture quite impossible, forcing me to lurch around in the appearance of classic teenage grumpiness, despite my mood being rather elated these past days. Without the extra padding, however, the binder does tend to slip down; a slight yet manageable annoyance. On occasion, there occurs the feeling of muscle tremors mostly localized around the grafts. With any luck, this may signify the slow return of sensation to the area.

Though the view was short and foreshadowed, I am confident that I will be happy with the results. The sutures will be removed come Tuesday, and Wednesday morning we board the train home. Having left a full week ago on the previous Saturday, the restlessness of hotels, restaurants and taxicabs has begun to set in; unfortunate given that we have six more days until departure.

In the meantime, I have found that the binder makes a very suitable place to tuck one’s napkin.

~ by geekbynature on June 27, 2009.