Wednesday, August 29, 2018Subscriber update14 likes

Destry Rides Again, or Jimmy Stewart Has A Body

One thinks of it less as an amputation (if one ever thought of it as such to begin with, which I certainly did) the more time passes. It’s been four weeks to the day now since I had/underwent/experienced/paid for/submitted to/achieved top surgery, a double mastectomy with nipple grafts and chest liposuction, in Plano, Texas, and I’ve spent every waking moment since experiencing something physically that I previously only had scope to imagine. There is, as I suspected but did not know, a great deal of difference between the two. I had been very anxious in the months leading up to the surgery itself, often stopping to ask myself if I wanted to postpone or abandon my appointment altogether. I make no claims on what I may or may not feel in the future, but I can say that doubt and uncertainty seemed to accompany my imagination. Now that I have knowledge, physical knowledge, I can sometimes experience sadness, or wistfulness, or a sense of poignancy, but I do not have anything to feel uncertain about. (“Yes, of course you don’t, you cut the uncertainty off,” would be the reply if this were a vaudeville routine, which it isn’t.) At any rate, one can’t doubt a new physical reality, or at least I haven’t found a way to doubt it. I sometimes have thoughts and opinions and reactions to said reality, but it’s immediately present in a way that thoughts and opinions and reactions aren’t. It’s a