Okay, now that the dust has settled and I’m back into my normal routines, I suppose a more in depth post about my boyfriend’s recent top surgery is in order.
However, first I want to say “hi!” to all of the new followers I’ve gained recently. I hope you enjoy my blog, and if you ever want to use my ask box, go for it. I promise I’m a nice person. Unless you’re a dick. Don’t be a dick.
So, the top surgery trip. PHEW. I LOVE my boyfriend’s “new” chest, but I’m glad the trip is behind us. It was incredibly stressful, especially since things didn’t go according to plan. If you want to read about it in my boyfriend’s own words, you may do so here. LONG story short, he had some post op complications coming out of anesthesia. They couldn’t keep his oxygen levels about 80 without an oxygen mask, which meant a trip to the ER and three subsequent days in the hospital. I was already feeling grateful that his mother had come along, but being in the hospital like that (we stayed there every night with him) made me so so so much more grateful. Most of the nurses were awesome, and Dr. Garramone even came by to check on him. They thought he had pneumonia (…with no symptoms…right), but eventually decided it had something to do with being intubated for the procedure and likely a result of him smoking for almost a decade (DON’T SMOKE. QUIT NOW. YOU CAN DO IT).
I can’t begin to tell you how terrifying and sad it was to see him having complications, to see him in the ER with all of these people swarming around him trying to figure out what was happening, to see him acting kind of out of it. It was chaotic, and I spent most of that time trying not to throw up. At one point a nurse came in to take an EKG and mentioned taking his bandage off (he was two hours post op mind you), and LUCKILY I was there when she came in because I had to inform her that NO absofuckinglutely no that bandage doesn’t come off.
The doctors and staff in the ER were mostly confused by my boyfriend and didn’t understand what operation he’d just had despite our best efforts to explain it. They also kept misgendering him which was REALLY fucking annoying. I remember him looking up at me at one point and saying through his oxygen mask, “Baby, why do they keep doing that?” However, once he was released from the ER and admitted to a room in the hospital, most of the nurses and staff were much more considerate and did a lot better with the pronouns.
In a weird way, spending those three days in the hospital, as fucked up as this is going to sound, helped break up our time there. I know a common complaint is that people feel stir crazy spending a week straight in a hotel not really able to do anything (believe me, I feel ya), but once he was released from the hospital and we got to go back to the hotel, it almost felt like home (anything beats a cold loud hospital). We watched movies and I gave him sponge baths. True love right there, folks.
The drains weren’t fun, not because I was weirded out by looking at them, but because they were just in the way. Any time I wanted to hug him or any time we’d try to cuddle, I was paranoid I’d accidentally yank one out. Though admittedly, having a plastic see-through bulb of reddish muck in your face while trying to snuggle your boyfriend did take some adjusting. I did get a little grossed out whenever we’d have to empty the drains and measure what came out of them, but I just tried not to think about it.
Florida was…..Florida. I don’t really like Florida. No one there seems to be able to drive. I’m thrilled to be back home with our puppy dogs and mountains. Also, I hate flying, so that sucked too, but being old enough to drink on a plane made it so much easier (shout out to my good friend Jack: thank you sir!).
Slowly our home life is going back to normal. I’m still helping my boyfriend lift things over five pounds or reach for dishes/pots/pans that are above his head.
It’s really cool for me to walk into a room and see him sitting at his desk or wherever he is without a shirt on like it’s the most natural thing ever, because it IS the most natural thing ever. It’s hard to explain. I know it’s different and that he never used to do that because he wasn’t able to, but in my mind it feels like he’s always done that.
I think the worst part of recovery at home has been the sleeping arrangement. We have a full size bed, which, under normal circumstances, is a little crowded with the two of us, our cat, and our smaller dog. Now we’ve had to add two pillows into the mix: one between us to keep him from rolling onto his side (he’s not allowed to yet) and another to put under his knees to help his back (which hurts because he has to sleep on it). Things are a little cramped, and we can’t really cuddle which is shitty. I’ll be glad when the pillows are gone.
All in all, everything was/is fine, and we feel very fortunate. We had a lot of people supporting us, and that made all the difference in the world; you know who you are. We love you guys.
The only loose end is waiting on the hospital bill to come in the mail…. since, in the eyes of my boyfriend’s insurance, this was an “elective cosmetic procedure”, we’re pretty sure insurance won’t cover any of it. That one’s gonna hurt.