"They couldn't look any better", the words every anxious patient longs to hear from their plastic surgeon and here I was, the beneficiary of this glowing praise.
I was committed to being a good girl. I drank 100oz of water a day and ate dark leafy greens and whole foods to boost my healing time.
When DH and I peeled the gauze off earlier that morning my initial queaziness gave way to thrill: my breasts where standing up all on their own. They were real and will some day be spectacular. There was almost no swelling or bruising beneath the protective gauze.
And I could shower.
Blissful warm water rinsing off the residue of days past. A triumphant return to the human race was in my immediate future.
Freshly cleaned and dressed in actual clothes, DH and I trekked to my first post op visit.
As somewhat of a fitness nut, or as much of a nut as someone with a crush injury to their lumbar spine can be, I was anxious to get my body moving again. My surgeon cleared me for walking on a treadmill at 3mph for 20 min a day and I was overjoyed. He cleared me to sleep on my side with the aid of a soft pillow and my neck rejoiced at the prospect and he even said I could even have a small glass of wine, all was rightish in my world.
Do not pass go, do not collect $200, I beelined to the gym for my well deserved walk.
After a few minutes I realized that 2.5 mph was going to be my top speed of the day and 10 min my max time.
I peeled my grateful feet off the treadmill and headed to my physical therapist for some time working out the spasm in my neck and back. 10 minutes into that I realized that my new body was sending up an emergency signal: ENOUGH.
Panic clawed it's way into my heart, sure that I had ruined my talented surgeon's work. I beelined for home and went straight for the promised glass of wine, 4 oz thank you.
Slow realization crept in as I felt my breasts tighten and swell that I had completely screwed this up. Peeling out of my bra I could see the bright red results of doing too much too soon.
An emergency call to my surgeon reassured me that everything would be fine provided that I backed off, a skill I do not possess. A quick peep at the angry swelling convinced me that it was a skill I needed to practice, immediately.
I changed my wine for water.
I slept propped on my hateful wedge.
I didn't move faster than a slug in winter.
And this day too did pass.
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