Embryo of Philosophy

A little while ago I wrote this post. I saw the doctor a few days ago and she said that everything is looking fine. The healing is at the stage it should be after eleven weeks. There's still some hardness, but that will likely go away, and even if it doesn't, everything still looks pretty good.

So that's a relief. Nice to know that my nipples aren't about to fall off.

Slight problem on the surgery healing front. Apparently my right side is not healing quite like it should. It will probably only be a cosmetic issue. (Absolute worst case scenario is I lose my areola, but that doesn't seem likely.) I've been given strict orders to stop riding my bike, and I'm trying to be extremely careful with my right side.

What truly annoys me is that the doctor didn't tell me this. When I had my appointment, she made the problem sound not very serious at all, and advised me to cut down on my activity. A few days later, she calls my mom, gives her the horror story "lose your areola" stuff, and tells her that I should be using my right side as little as possible and not cycling at all. This causes my mom to leave a panicked message on my answering machine, which causes me to panic.

One guaranteed way to annoy me is to not tell me stuff. Especially if you go behind my back about it. The doctor was worried that I wasn't concerned enough. Well, of course I wasn't concerned. She made it sound utterly minor. Ugh.

But, the good news is that it seems to be getting better. The pain has almost completely stopped, and I think that it's looking more normal. I'm crossing my fingers.

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First of all, what the fuck, Colorado weather? I've gotten used to the seventy degree January days, and I've realized that it's never more wintry than in late April, but it's nearly June, so these grey, wet days have to stop. Or at least don't go changing it so much. Google weather said it would be seventy one degrees today, so I dressed for that. When I got on the first bus, it was warm. When I got off, it was chilly and windy. I was not alerted to this possibility! It was still chilly when I got on the second bus, but by the time I got off, it was warm again. Oh, Colorado, I will never understand you.

I had a doctor's appointment today, to check on my boobs. It was somewhat of a trek, just because walking still hurts a bit.

On the bus I encountered a wacky conservative Christian whom I had debated last semester at CU. He was quite eager to talk to me. I was trying to write, so I didn't really want to talk to anyone, but especially not a fundamentalist Christian. He was pleasant and polite, certainly. I have no doubt that many fundamentalist Christians are overall quite good-natured, with concern for others. However, this man, however nice he was, thinks that I'm going to hell. He believes that I face endless agonizing torment after death because I like to kiss girls, and because I pray to a goddess and the wrong god. Not only will I suffer unceasingly for eternity, but quite deservedly so. It's hard for me to think of someone who believes that as a truly good person.

However, he spoke about a talk he was going to give at his church about various literary genres in the Bible (didactic, poetic, apocalyptic, etc.), which sounded genuinely fascinating. (I'm a religious studies minor for a reason.) Of course, he's probably one of the people who thinks that the vast number of different genres and literary styles in the Bible prove that it was written by God, rather than offering evidence that it was written by a great number of people over a very long time. But what are you going to do?

Also, I saw a road sign on the way to the doctor's office that gave me pause. It was next to a creek and said "Ice may exist." And, yes, all right, I know what it meant, but it sounds quite existential to me. "Ice may exist. But perhaps it's simply our subjective perceptions telling us that the ice exists. Who can say?"

...Well, I was at least amused.

I did finally make it to the doctor. I'm healing nicely, and she removed most of the steri strips. And now I can shower! Seriously, bathing became a serious chore when I couldn't get my chest wet.

Before, when my breasts were still numb, I expressed concern that it might be the first stage of horrible zombie disease, and that I had zombie tits. My fears were allayed today. No, instead, I have frankenboobs! (I just can't decide if that should be capitalized or not.) They had to cut off my nipples then reattach them, so it's quite gross looking. (That, uh, might have been more than you wanted to know.) But it's only eight days after surgery, so I'm not worried. Plus, the doctor told me that I'm still quite swelled up, and that my breasts should get even smaller. I'm so excited!

Just like I'm oh so certain that you care about the state of my breasts, so I assume that you care about how my writing is going. I've finished one of my springkink stories, and started the other one. These stories are the reason that I've been researching Victorian carriages and trains. Don't laugh, I find it interesting. And my remixthedrabble entry is in beta.

All in all, my life is going well. This scares me. Surely something must go horrible wrong soon. Well, I'm starting my summer class on Monday. That will probably count.

So, I had my breast reduction surgery a few days ago. Things are definitively smaller, though I'll have to wait until the swelling goes down to get a fully accurate picture.

I'm only feeling a little pain and discomfort right now, but I'm definitely not up to 100%. It feels like I spent more time sleeping the past three days than anything else. Well, that and throwing up, at least the first day. I don't know what kind of anesthesia they gave me, but my body did not like it. So, for the first day, I was in pain, throwing up, and hopped up on Viocdin. It was just like what having my period used to be like! Except I was was far more nauseous, and for all that having people carve up your chest hurts, my menstrual cramps were way worse. It's so good to have these standards. Actually, my mom was worried that I would have a terrible pain because she recently had a cyst removed from her chest and she was going on and on about how much it hurt. This all made me a little worried until she said that she had to take two Vicodin to deal with the pain. At that point I had to explain to her that I used to have to take three Vicodin just to manage my cramps. Sometimes I believe that I even took four. Because I hate my liver. So, I'm not afraid of a little two-Vicodin pain.

But, anyway, I'm very excited to see what the final result will be once the swelling goes down and everything has shifted into place.