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Flu?

Stress?

Top surgery dressings?

One, or all, of the above has my stomach feeling like I've gone for a ride on the tilt-a-whirl.

won't stop this avid eater from breakfast and my coffee

Everything hit with a bang yesterday.  The 95 year old g'ma is back with full force, and Papi is back with souvenirs from Dr. Scissorhands.

There came my love, strolling out of the airport gate holding bags!!!  For gawd's sake!  Mi esposo is not supposed to be holding things!!!

Then Papi says, "I'm in a lot of pain."

No fucking shit?!?!?

Apparently I told my love to carry things.  If I did, it was when I said, "If you MUST carry things, make sure you have even weight and don't try using anything other than your forearms to adjust."

Papi came out with a camera bag, a computer bag and a souvenir bag all held in front of mi esposo's chest!

Not good.

Something that was awkward for me though, was witnessing the lack of my love's chest.

Flat.

That men's dress shirt was hanging the way it was intended.

My love looked handsome.

I was so thrilled to see Papi and have a feeling of seeing mi esposo as gorgeous.

When we got home, my love needed to change the dressings.  Papi didn't want me to see, "I don't want you to think I'm ugly."

This broke my heart.

As I was trying to get Papi to calm down, I had to stroke my love's arms and say, "I want to heal you.  I want to be the one to take care of your wounds and be the one to heal them.  Please let me help you."

My love is not very good with pain or blood.  I'm fine with pain, I'm getting used to it now, but blood?

Nope.

Not my thing.

However, because Papi's worse at it, I had to step up to the plate.

Papi was wiggling all over the place in anticipation of me taking off the old dressings.  It was so much work getting mi esposo to sit still, that the terror of seeing what I'm most afraid of wasn't even an issue.

When I saw the healing incisions, I was surprised that I didn't have a moment of tears.  I did have a few mini panic attacks, but nothing I couldn't deal with.

Mami kicked in, and I took control of taking care.

I had nausea and was terrified of hurting my love, but I did it and it felt good to help mi esposo.

It looked very strange.

Foreign.

It's going to take some time to get used to, but I really think that helping my love heal will also heal my heart.

On to the next hurdle of denial.

The teenager today had a few thoughts, "Maybe Papi will just be good with this and it will be enough.  Maybe there doesn't have to be a full male transformation.  Maybe it's all done now.  Maybe I can just have a flat chested butch."

I'm sorry little one.

You're still not getting it are you?

You've married a tranny.