Today I walked in to the Doctor's office, a bit leery of having my drains removed but excited just the same. In the last few days, as the nerves in my chest have started to re-fire,I have learned that these muscles are NOT happy to be stretched. Up until this point the biggest aggravation has been the drains. (They are attached through incisions in the side of my breasts and any movement, no matter how many narcotics I take, makes me grimace in pain.) 

So the ability to have them gone is a thrill. Contemplating how painful the removal may be, is not.

With the usual frustration of LA morning traffic, Collin and I fight our way over to UCLA from the East Side. It's nine miles but in LA morning traffic, it's a 75 minute drive. The nice thing about having a 9 a.m. appointment is that I am the first one in the office waiting room, and despite arriving at 9:05 ( I keep telling Collin we need 90 minutes, but he never listens) they are kind and escort me in immediately. 

The thing i love about my surgeon is he is fully confident without being an asshole.  He has the air of someone who is expert in their field. And while this is new and kinda scary to us, this is all routine to him.

Dr D, opens up my bra and peels back the gauze that has been in place since surgery.  Collin backs away " I'm not gonna look."

 " Don't," says the Doctor. "It's a little Frankenstein-ish."  Awesome, I think. 

Dr D nods as he takes a closer look at the incisions.

"How do they look?" I ask.

"Good," he says as he starts to inspect the drain on my right side.  He removes the tape holding it in place, and I almost purr because the scratching feels so good. He reaches over and grabs a medical scissors.  

I tense. "Did you do it yet?"

"Its already done," he says as he moves to the drain on my left.

"WAIT !" I think, "I didn't feel anything! Holy shit this is so much easier than I thought..."

And that's when I see and feel bloody bodily fluid start to spray out of my right side, down my leg to the floor. 

Dr D  panics, well, Doctor panic which is a concerned look, grabs gauze and staunches  the hole where the tube has been removed.

Again, which I didn't even feel.

Slightly embarrassed, he looks at the splatter on my shirt and shorts, "Sorry about that, do you have another shirt?"

"Yeah" Collin laughs, "We'll walk out through emergency so no one suspects anything went wrong."

"It's fine" I assure Dr D. "its on the top of my shirt people wont even see it when I pull it up. I'm just glad it didn't hurt."

He tapes gauze over the hole.  "Just change this every 2-3 hours, it should stop by the end of the day. "

He finishes taping, "Okay your done, make an appointment for next week so we can take out the bolsters". (I've glanced down at my chest and besides being swollen, I see the skin left over from my breasts is sewn together almost like a bao (Chinese bun dumpling). 

"Great . Can I shower? Please?" I ask because I want to bathe, but I NEED to more.

"You can from the waist down, but sponge bath the top, we still want to keep the gauze dry, " he says. "Oh, and you can start using deodorant." 

OMG, I am FREE!!  The fluid filled testicles - yeah, they all are, but bear with me - that used to slap and pull my wounds and bang against my hips are gone. 

It's a fine day!  The birds are singing. The sun is shining. And I walk out of the hospital with a blood spattered shirt, two slightly oozing holes in my chest, and a big smile on my face. Thanks Oxy!