With my surgery safely under the belt, the next day after the surgery, 20 April onwards I've been taking it slow, staying in bed, only getting up for toilet, breakfast, and meals when they are brought in. Had a visit from a friend yesterday afternoon, was really glad to have him around, plus the yoghurt and juices and water he brought for me was good, too.
Onto the matter at hand: I just got back from Dr Pichet's surgery, where he had a quick check and got my drains changed as the left one was full. If the other is not draining, that means there isn't much to drain anyhow, and so therefore not to worry. Then the two lovely nurses, Ms Tikki and Ms Tak, the ones who were on duty the day I got my surgery, changed my bandaging, so I got to see my chest! When the last bandage was removed from my post-surgical chest, I looked at it, from one side to the other, and again, once more, sweeping sides, looking at it, hypnotised. Obviously not much to look at, with all the stitches, bloody bandaging over the nipples, etc, but I was so happy to see it flat, just like I saw it my dream. I think I may have had tears. I couldn't take my eyes off it while they were getting the new bandaging around my torso. My thoughts and feelings were: here I am, a 35 year old dude who finally got to inhabit the body I had wanted from the time I found out I was physically a girl. Here I am, finally, finally, finally on the last stretches of a road that seemed so far off only a few years ago because my then partner who I loved so much, who meant the world to me, used to tell me unequivocally that our marriage would be over if I transitioned, and being the fool that I was, I, of course, chose my marriage, making this very situation with my serenely happy presence post-surgery, very near impossible. Here I am, finally, finally able to claim my true identity. Finally, finally.
A quick word for my mom: all those nights and days that my mother stood watch over me, taking care of me, saving me after the burns that were sure to take my life, or at the very least would've left me a cripple for life, a tough case of measles when I was already a teenager, followed shortly by my suicide attempt. All those days and nights that mom loved me and made sure I lived, for all that here I am now, her son. The one child she always loved most. And the one child among her children who always loved her the most. I informed her the next day after the surgery that the surgery went well, and she was really happy, I'm quite sure she even cried a bit with relief because we both knew that her side of the family did not endure surgeries very well. But no worries, mom, I am very fine. Love you so much, mom, and see you at the end of the week!