There’s No Playbook For This…
It’s taken me a while to even feel like updating my blog since my second surgery (for skin grafts) on Sept. 18th…but here it goes.
Well…the second surgery wasn’t a complete success, but it wasn’t totally unsuccessful — though I still feel like a bad version of Frankenstein right now. Below are some recent pics that were taken after the second procedure (Yes, my wife takes pictures every day and sends them to my surgeon.):
They took skin grafts from the insides of both thighs. Just a bit of pain there after surgery. Just some bruising and swelling. Had to put ice on them daily. Stitches will dissolve on their own…thank goodness.
My left nipple is gone…completely. The skin graft that was used to try and salvage it didn’t work and was removed last week. On the bright side, the right nipple seems to be doing quite well. Let’s hope it stays that way.
The skin grafts on the left side of my chest seem to have taken and appear to be doing well. The edges will (at some point in the near future) come off — as that is the expectation when it comes to skin grafts. However, it will take 6 months to a year for those to fully heal. The skin graft on the right of my chest did not take, and ultimately will have to be removed this Thursday when I go for my weekly follow-up. Yes…currently I’m having to see my surgeon on a weekly basis. Now, while that seems like a lot, and sometimes I just don’t want to go for ONE MORE follow-up, I’m beyond thankful that my surgeon cares, and wants to do everything she possibly can to make me feel “whole” again. That’s why she’s still texting with my wife on a daily basis. 🙏
I can’t even begin to describe my feelings right now. They change constantly. I’ve had one “breakdown” since my first surgery, and there are days when I question how I’m going to possibly deal with this — and keep a positive attitude.
I HATE looking at myself in the mirror. I HATE touching my chest. I don’t even like anyone touching my chest. I HATE that my wife has to look at it and touch 2–3 times every day when she changes my dressings and applies more medicine. My entire life has turned into daily dressing changes, T-Rex arms (which means I can’t do a lot around the house — something else that is driving me crazy), and needing help with getting dressed, taking showers, even something as simple as getting a beverage from the top shelf of the refrigerator. My wife has even created a “nursing box” which contains all of the stuff I have to have each day — gauze, medical tape, emulsion dressings, gloves, puppy pads (yes, you read that right), and sanitary pads (yep…we used these right after the first surgery to soak up blood and fluids, especially when I had the drains). I thought I was done with those after I stopped having my period, a few months after starting testosterone. Thank goodness we no longer need those. In addition, I’ve taken three different kinds of pain pills (haven’t been taking those lately), antibiotics, stool softener, nausea meds, probiotics, hair/skin/nails vitamins, men’s multivitamins — I’m a walking drugstore. My wife and I should buy stock in some of this stuff, because we’re constantly having to order more gauze, more medicine, more dressings, etc. — almost weekly.
Last night was the first time I’ve actually taken a shower by myself…because I honestly cringe at the thought of touching or looking at my own chest. There are days when I think my chest looks better since the second surgery than it did after the first surgery — and other days I feel like it looks worse. In any case, I think it’s hideous.
If that’s not bad enough, sleeping is often a joke, because I can’t ever get truly comfortable wearing this binding vest that I have to wear. I even woke up one night because I had a nightmare that I was on an episode of Botched.
Honestly…before Sept. 2nd, I thought that by now, I’d be making plans with my wife to go to the beach — take my shirt off, and feel free to be me for the first time. BUT that’s not how this all worked out. Life doesn’t always go as planned.
I can’t even describe what it’s like to look at (or touch) my chest since Sept. 2nd (the day of the top surgery). There are no words. We’ve all been there; you can’t find anything to wear, we ask our spouse or our friends if an outfit makes us look fat, we ask our friends if a blemish is noticeable or we look in the mirror and go “ugh, I don’t like the way I look today.” This happens to everyone from time to time. BUT…this, this is so different. I honestly feel like I’ve been mutilated — mangled — disfigured.
Have you ever looked in the mirror and immediately closed your eyes because of how much you freakin’ hate the look of your own reflection? I have been doing that since Sept. 2nd…in those times when I’m actually brave (or crazy) enough to look in the mirror at my chest. I look in the mirror and think, “I look so gross” and “You’re disgusting.”
Even though I’m having a really difficult time remaining positive, I’m talking to my wife and my friends, reading positive articles and quotes, listening to feel-good music, and (recently) started reading Untamed by Glennon Doyle.
I’ve always been a very confident person…and I don’t want to lose that person. That’s one of the things I love most about me. So I can’t…and I won’t lose that part of me. So I’m trying to keep thinking the following thoughts…
Honestly, I don’t know what my chest will look like in 6 months…a year, and I’m terrified. And it sucks! There, I said it — it SUCKS!
The next follow-up appointment with Dr. MacPhee is Thursday, Oct. 1st. She’ll be removing the skin graft that did not take. Not sure what else she’s going to do this week.
For now, I can only take things one day at a time — hell, one moment at a time — and hope and pray that everything works out for the best.
When all of this is over, my scars will be proof that I’m a warrior who has fought and won a hard battle.
More to come, as my chest (and I) slowly heal…
Liam
