365 Scars
A year ago today, my plastic surgeon absolutely ripped my torso to shreds and I paid him to do it. Around this time that day, I was emerging from my fentanyl-induced sleep and Laura was driving me home. I was sitting on the couch, so incredibly relieved to be through the surgical nightmare and in the stage of healing. I was glad to put some distance between myself and one of the worst nights of sleep I’ve ever had (and probably the worst dreams too).
It was interesting to watch my bruises develop over the next hours and days. I don’t think I understood the physical strength my surgery required of my doctor; his fingerprints were clear on my shoulders and upper chest. It is bizarre to think about what went on in the operating room, all the things that happened to my body without my knowledge. Immediately following the surgery, all I felt was glee. A few weeks later, when the surgical tape had been removed and my loose, bloody breasts were released into the world, it was a little harder to separate their new state from the process that had brought them there. I remember saying I felt like a “Christmas ham,” because my innards felt like they were barely contained in my skin, which seemed to be held together by some immaterial cord.
The two-week recovery from this surgery will always have extracurricular meaning to me because it is when I met Eli. I had a lot of time to devote to getting to know him, mostly from the safety of the couch, and it was incredibly special. I do not think I will ever be able to separate the experience of choosing to get a life-changing surgery from the experience of choosing my person.
In many ways, this has been the best year of my life. Despite being a bloody ham and facing great professional uncertainty that stemmed from a poorly-time layoff, a tyrannical priest, and from somewhere deep in my Type-A psyche, I have found a version of myself that feels a lot more secure than any version I’ve met before. I ran almost 300 miles last year. I think I will run many more this year. There’s a lot more to say about that, but perhaps I will have the time to wax poetic about the benefits of strenuous exercise when I am done celebrating a year with the best person I know.
