Number One: I now know that I'm allergic to codeine. When I woke up in the recovery room, I immediately began vomiting like I'd never vomited before: violent, incessant retching that threatened to rip out the drains and stitches in my chest. Not being very drug-savvy, I didn't figure out until my follow-up liposuction two years later that codeine was what provoked it. I called my mother from bed to complain, and she said, "Oh, that happens to everyone in our family. I'm sorry, I thought you knew." Yeah, thanks for the heads up, Mom.
Number Two: Surgery is not the end of your discomfort, but the beginning of its last angry hurrah. There's weeks of more restrictive support binding ahead, as well as itchy stitches, numbness, and bruised, black nipples. You aren't done with your chest issues immediately after surgery; it makes the problem worse for a while before it gets better. Word to the eager young FTM: Have your surgery done during the cool months so that you're completely recovered for summer.
Number Three: When the doctor says no lifting for a few weeks, s/he means it. I got restless while I was convalescing and thought I'd sneak out of bed while my girlfriend was at work and put up a shelf. Actually feeling and hearing my skin rip was a singular experience.
Number Four: While I don't regret spending the money--and what are they gonna do if I default on my loan, come to my house and stick my tits back on?--$7,000 is a large debt to service. But hey, that's what debt management is for.
Number Five: Body issues do not automatically go away after surgery; at least they didn't for me. A lifetime of being the fat girl and hating my D-cup breasts to neurotic distraction left me with plenty of excess baggage that the surgery couldn't cut away. Even after the reduction and liposuction, it was a couple of years before I felt completely comfortable in just a T-shirt, and a bit longer before I was comfortable with my shirt off. It took some time for my mirror to catch up with the new reality. When I found other transmasculine folks, I became even more self-conscious when I had other chests to compare mine against. It didn't take many hot, muggy days for me to decide that cultural body norms sucked ass anyway, though, and convert to the "skins" team for life.
Number Six: I should count my blessings. My surgery results are actually some of the best I've seen--I've been changing in men's locker rooms for years now with no problems--and I was incredibly lucky to stumble across my surgeon in my then-hometown, given the South's ass-backward attitude toward queers. While the quality of most FTM chest surgeries is high, I have seen surgeries that look like they've been done with pinking shears, and it's not uncommon to lose nipple sensation (or your nipples). I healed with a minimum of scarring, my chest is proportionate to my build, and my nipples are intact and wonderfully responsive. I'm also grateful that I didn't have to travel to an unfamiliar city and convalesce alone in a hotel or on someone's couch. Being in my own bed with my partner, my books, and my Nintendo at hand made being swaddled up like an itchy, scabby, crabby mummy much more bearable.
Well, there you have it--valuable information for those moving from brick house to basement flat, so to speak. Just check your drug allergies and your credit rating before you scamper off to the doctor.
Jason Scott facilitates a group for young Seattle FTMs called YSFTM. For more information about YSFTM, write Scott at sirlex71@hotmail.com.
