These days my life is all about getting ducks in rows as I countdown to my facial feminization surgery on Friday (February 3rd). As much as possible I’ve been staying away from public spaces in an attempt to remain healthy while also preparing for my mom’s arrival tomorrow. The photo above is the rented hospital bed in our living room, my recovery space for the coming month. I’m meditating every day to quell the substantial anxiety I feel when I think about the moment I’ll fall into a nowhere land of anesthesia. I’m getting exercise and wondering how it will feel to be bed-bound for a long period of time while also eating only soft foods. How will this throw off my Weight Watchers journey? Will I be able to get back on that horse when I’ve healed?
I have the instinct to contact people to say “Thank you for being part of my life,” as if it’s wise to say in case something bad happens to me. Everyone assures me I’ll be fine, but that tiny risk is always lingering, begging me to give it more weight than it probably deserves.
When my mom arrives we’ll start a whirlwind of practice runs and tutorials. Among many things, I need to show her the quirks of our washer/dryer and how to load and play podcasts on my phone in case my eyes are swollen completely shut for the first few days. For someone like me, who plans everything down to the finest detail, the mystery of how this will go is enough to drive me mad. Hence the meditation, exercise, and breathing. Always the breathing. We have a full docket of things to cover this week, and then it will be dark-O-clock on Friday morning and we’ll pile into the chilly car to drive 70 miles to the hospital in Richmond.
Half of me is prepared and excited. The other half is still holding back. A million What Ifs flood my head and I still hold onto a feeling of “I’ll believe it when I see it.”
Once I’m out of surgery my mom or Mark will post on my Facebook page.
Keep good thoughts for me!