Here we are, the night before surgery.  I am scheduled to have the procedure at 1.30 tomorrow afternoon, and so I will arrive at Dr. Medalie’s office at 12.30.  I have decide on the double incision method.  I will get the best contour that way, I will get good nipple size and placement, and there is the least likely chance of needing revision, or having excessive nipple scarring, with that method.

We are eating dinner a bit later tonight since I won’t be able to eat again until tomorrow after surgery, so some Indian food we ordered should be showing up in about an hour.  I’m not nervous about the surgery.  Not yet.  I assume I will be tomorrow morning as I will just be waiting around to go to the hospital.  But now I feel good, hungry, but sure about my decisions up to this point.

I did some research on tattoos and scars, and it doesn’t seem to be the case that one could tattoo over a hypertrophic scar.  But they can tattoo around it and mask it in that way.  I am comfortable with that.  And again, it is not certain that I will scar as badly this time around as I did with my hysto.  So keep your fingers crossed for me. 🙂

I want to thank all of you who have followed this blog, and encouraged me, and challenged me, and comforted me.  You guys have helped me along when I questioned myself, when I let the internalized transphobia creep in, when I wanted to shut this door and go back to my old life.  Thanks for not letting me.

I want to leave you with this, for now:
August, 1953
by David Wojahn

A nurse gathers up the afterbirth. My mother
had been howling but now could sleep.
By this time I am gone—also gathered up
& wheeled out. Above my jaundiced face the nurses hover.
Outside, a scab commands a city bus. The picketers battle cops
& ten thousand Soviet conscripts in goggles
kneel & cover their eyes. Mushroom cloud above the Gobi,
& slithering toward Stalin’s brain, the blood clot
takes its time. Ethel Rosenberg has rocketed
to the afterlife, her hair shooting flame. The afterbirth
is sloshing in a pail, steadied by an orderly who curses
when the elevator doors stay shut: I am soul & body & medical waste
foaming to the sewers of St. Paul. I am not yet aware
of gratitude or shame.
I do know the light is everywhere.

Be nice to yourselves,
Your Pal Eli



13 thoughts on “T-Minus

  1. Glad to hear you are calm, and about to enjoy Indian food with K. Your decisions are good decisions; not only good but good for you. Remember that. And your mantra.

    I love you.

  2. As I garden today I will think of you getting ready for surgery, your calmness and logical though processes are an inspiration. Good luck and I look forward to your first post op post.

    • And as I lie on that surgical table, waiting for the mask, I will think of you in the garden, planting, what? Roses? Tell me a bit about your day ahead…or behind? you are in the U.K., are you in the garden already?


      • You must have had your surgery by now, I hope everything went to plan and that recovery is okay. I am a garden designer so was off to work on one garden or another. I used to teach (English) but found it easier to transition being freelance and self employed. I am in the UK, I live just outside of London but still have house in London which I rent out. We are behind, depend on whether you are east or west coast, by 5 or 9 hours.
        Restful recovery and congratulations.

  3. Hello again… I’m adopting a sing-songy digital voice now to announce: “I’m baaaack…”, and have caught up on all the posts I’ve missed. Wishing you the absolute best of luck for it all; and looking forward to the next update!


    • It’s the only way to do it, friend. Well, at least for me. God knows I don’t want to regret any irreversible surgery. 😉

      Thanks for the good vibes!


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