14 October 2014

'Twas the night before Nipples...

By this time tomorrow I’ll have a pair of brand new nipples. Rather than think about the procedure itself, I’ve engaged in my old pre-surgery ritual. After I ferociously cleaned our little house, and made enough kale salad to last me a week, I touched up my pedicure.

May Contain Nipples
I don’t know what it is about surgery that makes me want to take care of my feet, but toenail polish is an absolute prerequisite for going under the knife. And, it has to be red.

Next is an Epsom salt bath – my last for about eight weeks. After which I put on a white t-shirt and look at myself in the mirror. My boobs look kind of pretty. Do I really need nipples? My rack has never looked this good! Is it too late to cancel? I examine my dog-ear. It too is looking less bulgy that in has in a long time, and I’ve kind of gotten used to looking like Spongebob squarepants. Is this procedure on my waist a waste?

Luckily I’m distracted by the bottle of ativin on my dresser. I put it there so I wouldn’t forget to put it in my bag tomorrow. Last week I called the clinic and asked if I could take one. The nurse said yes. Ten minutes later I called back and asked if I could take two. The nurse said no.

Then it’s half an hour with Belleruth; my savior. She takes me through a guided meditation and reintroduces me to my magical friends and band of allies, those invisible little beings of my imagination who will sit with me  as I’m reconstruced into a closer version of my old self. I listen to Belleruth through my headphones so it feels like she’s in my head. She reminds me that I am safe. Two cats and a basset hound lie at my (perfectly manicured) feet.

Now I’m having a celebratory glass of wine. I’ve been thinking about this day for a long time but it still doesn’t seem real. In a weird (but not really) way I’m looking forward to seeing my pals at the hospital and being told how great I look. Basically ‘great’ is hospital-speak for ‘alive’ but I’ll take it. And, I’ll have a few days of forced relaxation – my books and chick flicks are already lined up. 

The Wingman just asked what time I’d like to be picked up. And he’s planning to wait with me, then greet me, post-surgery smoothie in hand. 

This feels a bit like Christmas. I sort of know what I'm getting, but I don't know exactly how they will looks, or how I will be wrapped. But - I'm getting excited. 

One more sleep.


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