Transition

Dilapid(il)ated

Been giving a lot of thought to the post-op experience that lies ahead. It would appear that there is literally nothing glamorous about the new reality that awaits me.

Basically my body will treat my new organ as an open wound and attempt to heal it shut. Which is where dilation comes in. As far as I can surmise I’ll be spending a lot of time with vaginal dilators. They will not necessarily feel like my friends. Although sometimes they might.

But this is the point where the enormity of what I am doing really starts to crush me. It’s not just one thing. A simple op to “fix” me. It’s the start of something else entirely.  A wholly new life which is going to be governed by how well I manage my postoperative care. 

And from what I have learned so far, it’s a big enough job for the first year at the very least. So as much as I’m really terribly excited,  I’m growing more and more scared by the minute. What I have signed up for is really a very tall order. As for having to interfere with postop self several times a day? What’s a girl to do? Doctor’s orders after all.

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