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Post Op report
Jul. 9th, 2013 06:22 pmSo.... here we are, 8 days post-op and all is well. ^_______^
I don't think words can describe how good it feels. Even when I woke up in recovery it felt amazing- like a weight had been lifted (ha, small pun intended...) but so much more than that. ^__^. I feel normal. That's really the only way I can describe it- like I have spent my whole life as some kind of monster, and suddenly, the thing that makes me monstrous is gone and I am just... normal. It's amazing.
So, a run-down of the whole thing, if you have time to read it:
I got to the hospital at 11:55, after a very restless night and a worry-filled morning. I was originally due to go in for 7am, but they called me on Friday and asked me to come in later. So I was already a bit worried that the op would get cancelled. It wasn't, though (obviously!). And, I can safely say that from the moment I arrived at the booking in suit everyone I met was wonderful. You hear a lot of bad things about the NHS, it's true (even from me- my battle with the PCT has hardly been pleasant, after all!) but occasionally they get it right. The nurse who checked me in was lovely, and gave me a full run-down of what would happen. I then sat and waited for a bit, before the anaesthetist came to speak to me, and he was lovely too- really friendly and put my mind at ease about everything. I completed all the checklists with him, and then... waited. I was told that the big operation they were doing in the morning had run over the allotted time, but rather than cancel anyone they had negotiated with the hospital to have as much overtime as they needed to get the whole list done. So it was just a matter of time, and no-one would be cancelled. I think that was the biggest relief- there was always a part of me that was certain that something would go wrong and it would end up not being done.
So, eventually Mr Hurren's registrar appeared and drew all over me with white-board marker. I've met her before, and she's a nice lady. We discussed again the possibility of me losing my nipples and I basically told her to just be rid of the damn things- grafts won't look that good anyway, and I know that the risks of them dropping off and dying are pretty high when you've got jugs the size of mine anyway. She seemed happy with that. She also warned me that my old Slaanesh rune tattoo would have to be removed, but that's one I did myself at 15 anyway, so I was happy with that. We managed to agree that the ankh on my breastbone could be saved, though- and that's the one that's most important to me, so that was good. And then there was more waiting... I was in the waiting room with a bunch of old men, most of whom were waiting for other operations and all of whom were highly opinionated gits, but it wasn't too bad. They were mainly grousing about Wimbledon, which I have to say I don't care about in the slightest. XD
They eventually called me at 3pm, and I was taken to the theatres by a really nice young health care support worker, who sat with me in a big empty waiting room because there was no-one else there and I was getting quite nervous. We chatted a bit about working in a hospital- she's leaving soon to go and train to be an operating theatre technician, which is why she was working with the surgery team. Eventually Mr Hurran appeared with a fine liner to draw all over me again, and we had one last talk about what was going to be done. He then led me into the theatre itself, which was massive, cold, and empty apart from the anaesthetist and his assistant. I swear, it was twice the size of the theatres we have in maternity- which is odd, since maternity operations always have so many people involved and other ops have much smaller teams. XD Still, they got me up on to the table and the anaesthetist managed to get a cannula into me practically without me noticing (some kind of miracle, I swear!) and we chatted while they put me under. I then had the weirdest 'waking dream' kind of hallucination, where I thought one of my uni lecturers rang the theatre to say she had lost one of my essays, so me, Mr Hurran and the whole surgical team got up and spent ages looking for this manilla envelope with the essay inside it. XD It was really odd.
...and then I woke up in recovery, all bandaged up and feeling like a million bucks! ^__^ I was actually laughing in recovery, I was so happy, and once they got me on the morphine there was no stopping me. XD The recovery nurses were amazing, and coped very well with me giggling and singing, and generally being very weird. When Mr Hurren came by to tell me that it all went perfectly I threatened to hug him (definitely the morphine, that, but I swear I meant it at the time!). But yeah, everything went to plan. They removed 6.5lbs of tissue, nipples and all, which is less than I was expecting, but my breasts had deflated a lot thanks to the constant binding and the T injections. Even so, it's a pretty hefty loss! ^__^
After that they shipped me off to the recouperation ward, and again- everyone was amazing. It was the post-op head, neck and breast ward, so I was something of an oddity; most of the other patients on there had not had surgery willingly- most of them were cancer patients or people who had had serious trauma following accidents. So having me grinning like a loon in a corner was something of a novelty for the nurses, who were all absolutely amazing and took really good care of me. ^__^ The first night was a bit shaky because I was high as a kite on morphine (fabulous stuff, by the way- I pretty much thought I was Superman), but once they took me off that I was a bit more sane. ^__- I was visited every day by a member of Mr Hurren's team, and because I was a student midwife the nurses talked to me more like a member of staff than a patient, which was nice. I had my own room, allegedly because of I have my CPAP machine at night, but realistically I think it's because I am trans and they didn't want other patients asking me questions about my op. And I am ok with that- it was nice to have peace and quiet when I wanted it. It also meant that I could have visitors and they could stay outside of visiting hours, because they weren't bothering anyone. ^__-.
I did have a few visitors- two of the midwives came up from labour ward to see me, which was lovely, and so did some of my uni friends. One of them bought me some baloons, which was amazingly kind of her! ^__^ Charlie and Ad also visited, and I had loads of calls and nice text messages, too. <3
On Thursday I had my drains out, and Dad came and picked me up to bring me home. I've been here ever since, splitting my time between reading and sleeping, and generally being a lazy ass. XD And so far, there have been no problems at all- I've had a bit of fluid build up under my arms (which is normal, and the GP said it will clear by itself) and I am still on pain killers, but when I had the dressings changed everything looked really good- the scar will be big but clean, and Mr Hurran has given me a surprisingly good shape. Also, the bruising is really minimal-I was expecting it to be bad, but there's hardly any at all. ^__^. I can't wait until the bandages are off properly and I can snap a picture of it!
The only down side is, it turns out that my knockers were hiding a pretty huge 'spare tyre' around my mid-section, which is now completely undisguised. XD But hey- I can handle that. As soon as I am back in Portsmouth I will be back on my diet, and once I am fully healed exercising will be infinitely easier for me, what with not needing the suffocating binders or sports bras any more!! So one way or another I will get rid of the extra flab and tone up.... and until then, I am (finally!) just an ordinary looking fat bloke, which I think is the best feeling ever!!
I don't think words can describe how good it feels. Even when I woke up in recovery it felt amazing- like a weight had been lifted (ha, small pun intended...) but so much more than that. ^__^. I feel normal. That's really the only way I can describe it- like I have spent my whole life as some kind of monster, and suddenly, the thing that makes me monstrous is gone and I am just... normal. It's amazing.
So, a run-down of the whole thing, if you have time to read it:
I got to the hospital at 11:55, after a very restless night and a worry-filled morning. I was originally due to go in for 7am, but they called me on Friday and asked me to come in later. So I was already a bit worried that the op would get cancelled. It wasn't, though (obviously!). And, I can safely say that from the moment I arrived at the booking in suit everyone I met was wonderful. You hear a lot of bad things about the NHS, it's true (even from me- my battle with the PCT has hardly been pleasant, after all!) but occasionally they get it right. The nurse who checked me in was lovely, and gave me a full run-down of what would happen. I then sat and waited for a bit, before the anaesthetist came to speak to me, and he was lovely too- really friendly and put my mind at ease about everything. I completed all the checklists with him, and then... waited. I was told that the big operation they were doing in the morning had run over the allotted time, but rather than cancel anyone they had negotiated with the hospital to have as much overtime as they needed to get the whole list done. So it was just a matter of time, and no-one would be cancelled. I think that was the biggest relief- there was always a part of me that was certain that something would go wrong and it would end up not being done.
So, eventually Mr Hurren's registrar appeared and drew all over me with white-board marker. I've met her before, and she's a nice lady. We discussed again the possibility of me losing my nipples and I basically told her to just be rid of the damn things- grafts won't look that good anyway, and I know that the risks of them dropping off and dying are pretty high when you've got jugs the size of mine anyway. She seemed happy with that. She also warned me that my old Slaanesh rune tattoo would have to be removed, but that's one I did myself at 15 anyway, so I was happy with that. We managed to agree that the ankh on my breastbone could be saved, though- and that's the one that's most important to me, so that was good. And then there was more waiting... I was in the waiting room with a bunch of old men, most of whom were waiting for other operations and all of whom were highly opinionated gits, but it wasn't too bad. They were mainly grousing about Wimbledon, which I have to say I don't care about in the slightest. XD
They eventually called me at 3pm, and I was taken to the theatres by a really nice young health care support worker, who sat with me in a big empty waiting room because there was no-one else there and I was getting quite nervous. We chatted a bit about working in a hospital- she's leaving soon to go and train to be an operating theatre technician, which is why she was working with the surgery team. Eventually Mr Hurran appeared with a fine liner to draw all over me again, and we had one last talk about what was going to be done. He then led me into the theatre itself, which was massive, cold, and empty apart from the anaesthetist and his assistant. I swear, it was twice the size of the theatres we have in maternity- which is odd, since maternity operations always have so many people involved and other ops have much smaller teams. XD Still, they got me up on to the table and the anaesthetist managed to get a cannula into me practically without me noticing (some kind of miracle, I swear!) and we chatted while they put me under. I then had the weirdest 'waking dream' kind of hallucination, where I thought one of my uni lecturers rang the theatre to say she had lost one of my essays, so me, Mr Hurran and the whole surgical team got up and spent ages looking for this manilla envelope with the essay inside it. XD It was really odd.
...and then I woke up in recovery, all bandaged up and feeling like a million bucks! ^__^ I was actually laughing in recovery, I was so happy, and once they got me on the morphine there was no stopping me. XD The recovery nurses were amazing, and coped very well with me giggling and singing, and generally being very weird. When Mr Hurren came by to tell me that it all went perfectly I threatened to hug him (definitely the morphine, that, but I swear I meant it at the time!). But yeah, everything went to plan. They removed 6.5lbs of tissue, nipples and all, which is less than I was expecting, but my breasts had deflated a lot thanks to the constant binding and the T injections. Even so, it's a pretty hefty loss! ^__^
After that they shipped me off to the recouperation ward, and again- everyone was amazing. It was the post-op head, neck and breast ward, so I was something of an oddity; most of the other patients on there had not had surgery willingly- most of them were cancer patients or people who had had serious trauma following accidents. So having me grinning like a loon in a corner was something of a novelty for the nurses, who were all absolutely amazing and took really good care of me. ^__^ The first night was a bit shaky because I was high as a kite on morphine (fabulous stuff, by the way- I pretty much thought I was Superman), but once they took me off that I was a bit more sane. ^__- I was visited every day by a member of Mr Hurren's team, and because I was a student midwife the nurses talked to me more like a member of staff than a patient, which was nice. I had my own room, allegedly because of I have my CPAP machine at night, but realistically I think it's because I am trans and they didn't want other patients asking me questions about my op. And I am ok with that- it was nice to have peace and quiet when I wanted it. It also meant that I could have visitors and they could stay outside of visiting hours, because they weren't bothering anyone. ^__-.
I did have a few visitors- two of the midwives came up from labour ward to see me, which was lovely, and so did some of my uni friends. One of them bought me some baloons, which was amazingly kind of her! ^__^ Charlie and Ad also visited, and I had loads of calls and nice text messages, too. <3
On Thursday I had my drains out, and Dad came and picked me up to bring me home. I've been here ever since, splitting my time between reading and sleeping, and generally being a lazy ass. XD And so far, there have been no problems at all- I've had a bit of fluid build up under my arms (which is normal, and the GP said it will clear by itself) and I am still on pain killers, but when I had the dressings changed everything looked really good- the scar will be big but clean, and Mr Hurran has given me a surprisingly good shape. Also, the bruising is really minimal-I was expecting it to be bad, but there's hardly any at all. ^__^. I can't wait until the bandages are off properly and I can snap a picture of it!
The only down side is, it turns out that my knockers were hiding a pretty huge 'spare tyre' around my mid-section, which is now completely undisguised. XD But hey- I can handle that. As soon as I am back in Portsmouth I will be back on my diet, and once I am fully healed exercising will be infinitely easier for me, what with not needing the suffocating binders or sports bras any more!! So one way or another I will get rid of the extra flab and tone up.... and until then, I am (finally!) just an ordinary looking fat bloke, which I think is the best feeling ever!!
