I am back living with my parents, after a stay at my brothers and a birthday trip taking in a few sites in London. Problem is, I think I over did things in London, my immune system went on holiday and a party of viruses piled in. So now i’m ill, with a clogged up nose, a raspy voice that makes me sound like Barry White, and a head stuffed with cotton wool. I have to admit i’ve probably been way too active since top surgery only about 2 weeks ago. Anyway, I am sat feeling sorry for myself, fed up that I can’t have a bath because I cannot soak my stitches and trying to sort out a generic CV.
In terms of top surgery, the plasters are off, and I see my nipples! I am very pleased with the results, and with the amount of leftover breast tissue taken out. Already it is making me less dysphoric about nipple size. They are full of stitches though. Literally. Stiches. Every.Where. (cue song of the week, Foo Fighters: Gimme Stitches). Which, although normal, slightly concerns me as I really don’t want to tug them accidentally. This led to me wearing extra plasters at night right up to yesterday. Now i’m just trying to be careful. Also a couple of stitches each side at liposuction entry point. Movement range is pretty much normal, just the odd “tug” feeling. No pain, just can’t lift heavy items..ah yes, that issue. Story time.
So on Monday (my Birthday) I was travelling from my brothers house, to London, then in the evening London to Yorkshire. With a heavy case – an issue. This led to some quite time consuming and irritating situations that made me really feel for disabled people!
- Brother has to park up at train station, take case in with me, ask permission to get onto station to help me, get bag on train for me – then he almost got trapped in as the guard shut the door, hence a bit of panic.
- I had to have friend meet me at other end – but I did not know the platform I was coming into until the train arrived, so had a quick texting flurry, whilst smiling awkwardly at the cleaning staff as I hung around the empty train near my bag trying not to look suspicious – which ofc im sure made me look suspicious (I was very aware of the recent terror attack on a train just 4 days earlier in the city) .
- On the way back my direct train was cancelled leading me to have to explain to about four different members of staff why I could not take the replacement train which required a train change half way through (no one to carry my luggage across). Everyone pretended to know the answer – no one knew the answer. After criss-crossing London Kings Cross for 20 minutes at about 8pm, tired, ill, and wanting to just collapse, curl into a ball and start crying while someone else sorted out my problems, I got onto a train. I could not relax the whole two hours because I was not technically allowed to be on it – I was going to rely on a kind train conductor to understand my issue and just let me stay on. Thankfully no conductor came round, and after having my parents meet me on the other side and get my luggage off, I vowed mentally never to travel on a train whilst not being able to lift ever again.
And I woke up the next morning wanting to do away with my oesophagus.
I have being slowly making progress on sorting out my CV. I can only apply for select jobs (at the moment) that dont require lifting. I think next week should be OK for going for them all though, and just saying at an interview I will be a couple of weeks until I can lift. I’m not going to mention my next surgery (which I already have a consult date for in December).
I keep forgetting I am on reduced meds, which is a good thing! Only side effect I have is that I am slightly more shaky. Anxiety wise…well it’s been pretty low recently. Lets hope with job stuff creeping up that it stays that way! Now I am off to fall asleep zzzzzzzzz