It's all over.
The Countdown has ended.
Papi's sleeping now, and it's very eerie. My love is twitching and whimpering, breathing hard and sometimes puffing.
It's not mi esposo's usual sleep pattern.
But then again, it's not every day that Papi goes under the knife. Not to mention, sleeps partially sitting up.
You know when a dog runs in it's sleep? It makes those noises that sound like a partial cry. I always look at it like they're chasing and barking at rabbits.
This is similar, only it does sound like more of a cry.
I think I even heard 'no' a couple of times.
It was an agonizing time waiting for them to allow me to see Papi. I'm not sure why they don't let loved ones be the first face patients see. I'm pretty sure my love would have wanted it to be me, but Papi got the nurse who helped my love to a pseudo La-Z-Boy chair.
Anyway, I digress. Back to the wait.
I just kept thinking, "This can't really be happening." It was too surreal. There were waves of nausea coupled with moments of distress.
It was just a bit too much at times.
Papi was telling me about all the F-Ms that were there the day before, along with their Rah-Rah-Tranny spouses/partners/lovers. My love told me how happy they all were.
yeah? well, they all haven't met THIS femme yet.
Today there was an F-M waiting for their person to come out. He smiled at me with an excited stare of, "Isn't this a great moment?!? Isn't it exciting?!?!"
I smirked not wanting to be rude. It's the most I could pull out of my ass, so as to not look like I was going to cry. I'm sure I came across as an aloof bitch.
My love kept asking me if I was ok.
was i 'ok'?
My stomach kept turning, and the flooding of emotions kept pulling me in an undertow like the ocean we have a beautiful view of from our hotel.
When I finally was cleared to see Papi, the first thing I did was giggle. The face of my love waking up has nothing on the 'post-op face'.
This was a gem of an expression.
It really broke the spell of doom for me.
Papi seemed so fragile. I've never seen my love like this. I wanted to hold mi esposo, but there was an obvious look of pain that stopped me.
All I could do was hold a finger.
I held that digit with all my love, caring and adoration.
I kept looking at my love's much smaller chest area.
they're gone ... they're really gone ... breathe ...
Now the care taking was coming into play. The nurse had to show me how to drain the tubes from my love.
I just about tossed my cookies.
There was blood to deal with, and I'm not so good with that kind of stuff, but I keep checking every 2 hours like I'm supposed to and get ready for the job.
I lovingly help Papi with sips of ginger-ale and chicken broth.
I made it through and I'm still here with my most of my sanity.
This didn't kill me. My mind isn't completely blown yet.
The science experiment of life continues ...