Five days post-op and definitely feeling better, though the swelling and discomfort is still pretty bad. I’m off the pain meds and not feeling any true pain, but I do feel kind of beat up and uncomfortable. I am slowly realizing that I will need to go back to physical therapy soon. I can’t really lift my arms and I think I’m going to have to let the PT work her magic on my right side. I can feel the swelling and what I assume is new scar tissue like a little knot when I press against my breast.
This surgery definitely set me back in ways I wasn’t anticipating. I was on the fence for so long. I knew I would be happier if I finished my reconstruction, but I was healing and feeling good and the thought of more surgery worried me. It felt a lot like tempting fate, especially since the work my plastic surgeon was planning to do was strictly cosmetic. Life-threatening had shifted to quality of life. And really, that fact alone made this surgery seem less important, less necessary.
So I minimized it. In every way I could possibly think of.
Sometimes I still can’t believe what I’ve been through. I look down at my body and I see big ugly purple and green bruises and swelling and blood crusted incisions — but I am healing again, and that makes all of it okay. The hard part is over. It’s going to take some time, maybe more time than I thought I would need, but I’m going to be whole again.
And that is a beautiful thing.