It’s day four of recovery. By last night, not even one full day into my stay at my parents’, I was going stir crazy.

Today, my mom and I had to drive all the way back to Philadelphia for two doctors’ appointments: my therapist and my surgeon. Because I haven’t had a lot of pain (only ibuprofen since Saturday night) and because I’ve been feeling less tired-all-the-time and more normal-tired, I thought I’d be okay. But after a two hour car ride and an hour talking to my therapist, I was exhausted.

Sitting in my surgeon’s waiting room, my mom kept telling me to go tell the receptionist that I was there. I kept telling her I didn’t have to; when you have a breakdown in the middle of someone’s office, they tend to remember you. I’ve never had to sign in. 

I got my final drain removed and the catheters in each breast. The research I did prepared me for some serious pain, but I didn’t even know she had taken them out until she told me. I finally got a look at my new boobs, and even though they’re still swollen and have marker and yellow antibacterial residue on them, I love them so much. There’s very little bruising, from what I can see. And you know what else I can see? My feet. My stomach. The button of my pants. It’s amazing. 

So now I’m back at my parents’, completely exhausted from my day. I may not be feeling a lot of pain, but I’m still suffering from the normal post-surgery fatigue.


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