#top surgery was one of the best decisions I've made
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🎉🎂🎁 happy third birthday to my chest!
#i just need something to hype me a little right now I'm dyin#but anyway yay gender euphoria!#top surgery was one of the best decisions I've made#i wish i had a cupcake i think i deserve one
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hey i'm not sure if you've answered anything like this already but did you get any grief from the doctors/system/any of it for wanting top surgery and not being strictly binary trans or even nonbinary in the assumed they/them sense? did you get a dysphoria diagnosis or do informed consent? in any case, it's amazing to see people with similar feelings to mine, thanks for sharing your experience ;D
Hi! I am very, very, very lucky because the city where I was living when I got my top surgery has a lot of good protections and resources for queer folks. Even though I did have to jump through some typical systemic hoops to get insurance to cover it, I didn't really encounter any unnecessary gatekeeping related to gender. I easily got a diagnosis of gender dysphoria (without having to lie) from the in-house social worker. It was literally a single one-hour phone appointment and then I had my letter; I didn't have to do extensive therapy or meet any HRT requirements or anything else. The letter basically said I am nonbinary and have had persistent and acute gender dysphoria that would be alleviated by top surgery. It wasn't a problem that I use she/her pronouns and a feminine name. At surgery time, the whole surgical team was clearly educated on gender expansiveness, and easily used my name and pronouns correctly without seeming confused or skeptical.
Aside from some scheduling hiccups, it was such a streamlined and affirming experience, and I wish it could be this way for everyone everywhere. Like, if you want top surgery, for any reason, no matter what your relationship to gender is -- you deserve it. I feel like top surgery IMMEDIATELY resolved like 90% of my gender anxiety. It's the best medical decision I've ever made for myself. I'm relieved EVERY day that my chest is finally MINE.
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I Do Bad Things with You - Part 44
This part fought me at every corner, but I said screw it. Let's post and move on. 😅 It's crazy to think there are only 5 more parts left and an epilogue. The end of an era is arriving soon. I'm excited though, to have this one finished because I've got a lot of other goodies in the works right now. Stay tuned!
My fanfic account: @tswaney17fics
My ao3 account: tswaney17
Please let me know what you think about this update. I love getting your feedback. Constructive criticism is always welcome. 💕
Catch up here.
Credit to @featherymalignancy for Cassian’s nickname, Cash. 😘
Trigger warnings: violence, sexual assault , language, NSFW
Word Count: 5,852
It had been a month since the car accident and their family found out about the pregnancy. The first week after the wreck had been rough, always worrying over whether she would eventually start bleeding as a late-term consequence of the crash. Azriel, her blessed husband, was doing everything in his power to keep her calm.
But she didn’t. Not a speck of blood.
Elain thanked every god for the safety of her babies knowing she wouldn’t have survived losing them.
She and Az hadn’t discussed any further on his retaliation tactics, hoping that he would drop the whole issue. Escalating right now when they were about halfway through her pregnancy didn’t seem like the best idea.
Elain did trust Azriel’s decisions, even if she didn’t necessarily agree with them.
A sigh escaped her lips and she rubbed her palm over her more prominent belly. She was beginning to round out now, rather than just looking like an oversized, carb-based pudge. Her scrubs were starting to get tight and it was only a matter of time before she had to invest in a larger size. At least in the top. The bottoms still had some stretch available.
“Doctor Archeron,” her boss called and she whirled around to face him. “We have an incoming pediatric patient who needs a surgical consult. Are you up to being my second?”
Pediatric surgeries didn’t come often, so when they did, he always made sure she had the opportunity to assist—especially since she was the Attending and would be taking these cases on with the team of residents here soon.
She was already moving to his side. “I’m in.” With her nausea and dizzy spells, Elain had to cut back on some of her surgical procedures, unable to give her best results to the patient. She was sure it was the combination of the stress and the constant standing that always had her head feeling woozy. So, she took what she could, and then made rounds for surgical consults in the pit. Having built a strong bond with the residents, they were always eager and willing to grab her a snack or craving when she needed it, even when she profusely told them they did not need to do so. But Elain had to admit, it was nice when they did, and she made sure to reward them with her knowledge and expertise when handling difficult cases.
They slid open the glass door where the young patient was held and she stopped in her tracks. The little boy couldn’t have been more than four years old, with dark hair that brushed over the tops of his ears, and golden-brown skin. His eyes flashed when they entered revealing a green and golden gaze.
Elain recognized his heritage immediately.
He was Illyrian. Like Azriel.
She also read the fear plastered on his face, in his movements as he cradled his broken arm to his chest. Large tears littered along his lower lash line; something inside of her cracked at that desperate look.
“Hello, Kaden,” Thesan said in a kind voice, lowering the iPad to his side and looking directly at the boy. “We’re going to help take care of that arm for you.” He took a step forward and Kaden flinched, crying out softly as the movement tugged on his injury.
Her boss stopped his approach; a level of uncertainty crept into his gaze as he glanced at her for assistance.
Elain cleared her throat, capturing the boy’s attention. She moved the rolling stool closer to his bedside and slowly sat down on it, making sure he watched her every move. “Hi, Kaden,” she spoke in a soft voice. “My name is Elain.” She shuffled slightly closer, relieved when he didn’t balk at her approach. In fact, it almost seemed like his eyes flicked down to her swollen stomach before returning to her face. “I see that your arm is hurt. Would you mind if I took a closer look?” Elain held out her hand, letting it lie on his bed palm up in a calm, welcoming gesture.
When he hesitated, she added, “You’re safe here, sweetheart. We won’t hurt you.” She wasn’t sure why she said it, but something in her gut told her that it wasn’t just strangers he was afraid of. It was people altogether. And that concerned her, more so than just from a physician’s standpoint.
Finally, he moved his arm over to her, those tears falling down his cheeks as he whimpered in pain.
“I know, baby. I know. You’re doing so well,” she cooed, gently examining the injury between her fingers. From the disfiguration, it was obvious that it was a transverse complete fracture, the radius and the ulna having stacked on top of each other, and somehow not penetrating through his skin.
Elain sat wondering how the hell this child had such a severe injury, and it was then she noticed the scar on his other arm from a different, extensive wound. She frowned, glancing up at Thesan through her lashes. “Without a proper x-ray, I can’t be definitive on how extensive the damage is, but I’m certain he’ll need this surgically repaired.
The other doctor crossed his arms.
Kaden flinched.
Her mouth parted. Because that wasn’t just a flinch of fear. It was a flinch of abuse. Elain had no doubt in her mind about his home life. A lump swelled in her throat at the thought of it, and she watched as Thesan slowly lowered his arms to appear less intimidating toward the young boy.
Without thinking, she reached up to trace the pads of her fingers across his temple, sweeping his hair back before brushing away the tears that still stained his cheeks. Elain released a breath she wasn’t aware she had been holding when he didn’t shy away from her touch. “I’m going to put your arm in a brace to hold it still until we can fix it, okay?”
He didn’t speak, didn’t even shake his head to indicate that he understood her, but he watched her, those green and gold-speckled eyes wary, but curious too.
She slid the stool back, reached into one of the drawers on the moveable cabinet, and grabbed what she needed. Getting him into the brace was a whole thing on its own. He cried and screamed as she tried to be as gentle as she could, and every sound he made felt like a knife in her chest. “I know, sweetie. I know. But this will help, I promise,” she murmured, trying to calm him.
His pain broke her heart. Shattered it into a million pieces. Because no child deserves to suffer like that.
Once she finally got him strapped in, Elain released his arm but didn’t step back. No, she couldn’t leave him in this state. Instead, she brushed more tears away with her thumb, cupping his cheek in comfort. It was completely out of line in that patient-doctor relationship, but frankly, she didn’t give a damn. Elain wouldn’t leave him like this—refused to. So, she gave him the gentleness of her touch, the security she knew he didn’t receive from his parents, wherever the fuck they might be.
“Elain,” Thesan said, catching her gaze. “Can we speak in the hall?”
She nodded, swiping her thumb over his cheek one last time. “We’ll be back, Kaden,” she murmured, resisting the urge to kiss the top of his head. Those damn hormones were really getting to her.
He slid the door shut behind them, turning to face her. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”
She knew he didn’t mean her actions. “The severity of his fracture looks like it came from a large fall. Maybe down a staircase. Did you notice the scar on his other arm?”
“I did,” Thesan told her, eyes going hard. It wasn’t a look she saw on him often, but child abuse cases were always difficult. “It looked like something that required stitching but didn’t receive it. It’s too harsh to have been healed properly.”
She grunted in agreement. “I don’t think we’ll be able to get an x-ray from him. Not when he’s this terrified. I know he needs surgery without it, but maybe we can grab an x-ray after we put him under?” Her boss nodded his head in a way that said he was on the same wavelength as her. “Where are his parents? How did he get brought in here?”
“I’m about to go find out from Viviane. Hopefully she or one of the other nurses can give us more detail.”
“I’ll reach out to social services and see if I can get our social worker from child protective services down here quickly. I suspect child abuse and we’re going to need somebody to sign off on his surgery,” Elain said, already pulling her phone from the front of her scrubs.
He reached out and squeezed her shoulder. “You did good in there, Elain. He wouldn’t have let me get near him, but you connected with him.” He paused, eyes flicking between hers. “It was that maternal instinct coming out. I could see it in how you handled him—comforted him. Excellent work.”
She couldn’t stop the blush from rising to her cheeks. “Thank you, Thesan.”
Gripping her once more, he strode away, heading for the nurses’ station to speak with them about their patient.
Elain glanced back over her shoulder at the child in the room behind her, his body curled up on his side as best as he could with his arm braced. His little hand fisted the sheets, eyes having drifted close. Her heart hammered in her chest. What else could he have been through that they didn’t know? Scrolling through the phone, she tapped on the name of their CPS contact.
It rang twice before she picked up. “Hey,” Elain said quietly. “I need you at the hospital. Now.”
A pause before she said. “Give me fifteen minutes,” and hung up.
She stared through that glass door, lips pulling down into a sad frown. Something drew her toward him, and Elain was determined to figure out why.
~~~
Elain was waiting for the CPS worker at the front of the nurses’ station. She and Thesan had a quick convo where he informed her of everything they knew about their patient, which turned out, wasn’t a whole lot. He had been sent over from the hospital in Illyria, not having a pediatric surgeon on hand to help him. Technically, she and Thesan also weren’t pediatric surgeons, but they’d been trained in those patients to be able to provide him the care he needed.
Her attention snagged on the tall woman walking into the building, her pace quick and determined.
Elain met her halfway. “Emerie,” she murmured, shaking her hand. “Thanks for coming so quickly.”
“You sounded urgent on the phone.”
They strode through the hospital to the elevators. “It is. My patient’s name is Kaden. He has a transverse complete fracture that requires surgery.”
Emerie flicked her thick, dark plait of hair over her shoulder. “Parents won’t sign off on it?”
“Parents aren’t here,” Elain said, pressing the button for floor three to take them to the pediatrics department. “His neighbor called it in when she got home from the grocery store. Told the EMTs that she heard his screams and just called for help.”
“How old is he?”
The doors slid open and they stepped out of the elevator. “Just over four.” She directed them toward his door. “There’s something else,” she started, looking over at the boy in question. “He won’t speak and seems very intimidated by people. Fearful of them. I suspect he’s a victim of child abuse. I was barely able to get the brace on him, so we haven’t attempted an x-ray yet.”
Emerie pursed her lips in contemplation. “What’s your plan?”
“We want to do the x-ray while he’s under. It’s obvious he will need his facture repaired surgically, but we won’t get a clear picture of the damage until we get him prepped.”
She nodded. “I can get on board with that after I try and talk with him of course.” Emerie looked in at the child lying on the bed. “You said he’s just over four?” she asked.
“Yes. His chart shows his birthday was a few months ago.”
Those dark eyes found hers. “He looks awfully small for a four-year-old.”
Elain’s heart ached in her chest. “Yes, we were thinking he appeared a bit malnourished.”
“Do me a favor. When you get him in for x-rays, get some of his body. I want to see if any previous injuries can sanction the abuse.”
Elain’s chin dipped in confirmation as she grabbed the handle of the door and slid it open. “Hello, Kaden,” she said, voice softening. “I’ve brought a friend who wants to talk with you.”
His head turned to look over at them, eyes going straight to Emerie. He shuffled on the bed, curling into himself.
She shared a glance with Elain before moving forward, cautiously. “Hello, Kaden. My name is Emerie. I’m here to help you.”
He blinked at her, not unfurling from his fetal-like position.
Emerie frowned, returning her attention to her. “Do you think he might be deaf?”
Elain’s brows shot into her hairline. She hadn’t thought that at all. “He seems like he can hear us, but let me see,” she said, turning to sign can you hear me at the little boy.
No response.
She shook her head. “I don’t think he’s deaf. Just mute.”
The social worker’s mouth turned down further. “I’ll sign off on the surgery. I can see the injury from here. Has anyone tried to contact his parents?”
“There’s a number for a father, but it’s been disconnected. I can give you his file to see if there’s anything you can pull from it.” Emerie gripped her arm in thanks, moving to sit down on the rolling stool that she sat upon earlier. “I’m going to call up to the OR to get a room prepped. A nurse will be in with the forms to sign in a bit.”
She gave Kaden a small smile, hoping it would bring one to his face, but he just stared at her, little hands fisting the bedsheets. Elain felt an undeniable pull toward the child. A deep-seated need to help him—care for him. She just needed to figure out how.
~~~
Four remodeled fractures.
Elain sat in the chair next to Kaden’s bed as she looked through the X-rays they took of him. She pulled out four, severe remodeled fractures—now five with the one they just repaired. How the fuck did a child of four have five fractures in his lifetime already?
Anger, unlike anything she’d ever experienced before burned inside of her like a volcano readying to erupt. It was obvious that this boy had experienced such tremendous pain and horrors in his young life. She couldn’t help but compare him to her husband, born into cruelty. Abused and neglected. Left to fend for himself.
It left a dangerous spot in her heart. One where she wasn’t sure if she could untangle him from.
The door slid open and Emerie popped in, her dark eyes glancing toward the sleeping child. “How’d it go?” she whispered. Getting him under had taken some work. The anesthesiologist ordered him to be held down so he could put the mask on his crying face when she entered.
“Do not hold him down,” Elain had growled, storming into the operating room after having scrubbed down. The surgical nurses seemed to back up at the look on her face. Even the two residents assigned to the surgery hesitated. She’d moved to his side, fingers stroking his soft cheek. “Hi, sweet boy,” she murmured, voice softening. “I’m going to fix your arm now, but you need to go to sleep first. You don’t want to be awake for this.” Her thumb made a gentle caress back and forth on his face. “I’ll be right here when you wake up.”
She made quick work wiping his tears away, humming under her breath a simple lullaby. Elain waited until he was calm, silver-lined eyes drying as his eyelids slowly lowered without her even using the gas on him. She knew he was likely exhausted, having gone hours without much sleep. The constant crying would’ve drained him too. So, only when he finally shut his eyes, did she take the mask from the anesthesiologist and place it over his face.
The door clicking shut behind Emerie pulled her from her memory. “Getting him under was rough, but I managed to get it done.” She held out the X-rays for her. “He’s had four other fractures that I found. Two hairline ones on his third and fourth ribs, one to his left femur, and one…” her words trailed off, unable to spit out the location of that last injury.
Emerie took a seat on the stool, facing her. “Where was the last one, Elain?”
She took a ragged breath. “On the back of his skull.”
“Any ideas on how he got it?”
Elain sat back in the chair she’d brought in. “Looks like he might’ve collided with something. Probably pushed backward and fell into a table or something similar.”
“They were set properly, though?”
She nodded. “Yes, the last one looks to be about a year old now. The others are about two.” Elain frowned. “The first four were cared for, but this time he was left alone to deal with it. What changed?” she wondered more to herself than anything, but it appeared the social worker had the answer.
Emerie handed her another file. “His mother died. It wasn’t in his medical report, but I had some people do a little digging and found the name of his birth parents. Lorenzo and Anastasia Salazar.” Her lips turned down in the corner. “Reviewing everything you’ve given me and the reports I’ve pulled, I’d theorize the abuse came from the father and when he left, the mother took him to seek medical attention off books.”
“Off books?” Elain asked, brows furrowing.
“There’s nothing in his medical history about the abuse. No flags have ever been attached to his profile in the system. So, either they paid off whatever doctor they used, or they had somebody private doing at-home calls.”
Like Azriel’s personal medical team…She was careful to keep her face neutral, but Elain had a feeling that Lorenzo was a part of some gang, if not the Illyrian Mob itself. Sighing, she looked back at the sleeping boy, her heart racing in her chest.
“Should I be looking into other options for him aside from foster care?” Emerie asked carefully, eyes flicking down to her pregnant stomach and then back up.
Elain’s dark gaze met hers. “I don’t know,” she said earnestly.
The social worker seemed to understand. “Tell you what. I’ll prepare both options for you and then you can decide what you want to do after you talk to your husband.”
Something inside her chest unlocked at her words.
A groggy sigh caught their attention and they twisted to see Kaden’s eyes fluttering open. His small whimper had Elain moving, sitting on the edge of his bed to run her fingers through his dark hair.
“Hello, sweetheart,” she murmured.
He looked at her with large, hazel, and green eyes before curling into her side, cuddling close to her.
It took all of Elain’s willpower to not sob in elation that he felt comfortable with her now. How long had he gone without love or affection that he would cling to a near stranger who showed him any sort of warmth?
Emerie smiled, rising from her chair. “I’m going to go start handling some paperwork. Call me if you need anything in the meantime or if anything changes.”
She waved her off, resituating herself on his bed as she gave herself a few more seconds of snuggling this precious boy.
~~~~~
Azriel knew something was bothering Elain the moment she stepped through the elevator door. He could read it on her face, in the half-assed smile she shot him. In the way she picked at the food on her dinner plate.
It frustrated him that when he asked her about work, knowing something was wrong, she lied to his face and said it was fine. It wasn’t fine. Nothing about the way his wife was acting was fine. He just wished she would tell him what it was.
“You need to eat, El,” he tried, keeping his voice soft.
She pushed her plate back. “I’m not hungry.”
He tried not to get irritated—he knew Elain was carrying a lot on her plate with her job and the pregnancy. But he was done with her not being honest with him. Azriel sighed, setting his utensils down on his plate with a clank. “All right. I need you to tell me what’s going on.”
Her dark eyes glanced at him, before returning to stare at her meal. “It’s nothing.”
“Bullshit, Elain. I can tell something is wrong without you even having to say it. It’s written as clear as day on your face. I am your husband. You’re supposed to confide in me. I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s the matter.”
Az expected her to relent. To sigh, eyes rolling to the sky and finally tell him everything. What he didn’t expect was for her to burst into tears.
Her face fell into the cradle of her palms as a heart-wrenching sob tore from her throat.
For a moment, he froze, blind-sighted by the sudden emotion. And then the panic swept in. He was out of his seat a second later, moving around the edge of the table to pull her chair back and kneeling in front of her seat. “Hey,” he murmured, rubbing his hands on her thighs. “I’m sorry, love. I didn’t mean to upset you.” He kissed her kneecap, squeezing her legs gently to show her he was there for her.
Elain sniffed, running the back of her hand under her nose. “You didn’t upset me.”
His brows furrowed in confusion. “Then what did, love?”
She let out a shaky breath, hands falling into her lap. He took one in his, gripping it tightly. “I had a patient today with a fractured arm that we had to surgically repair. He was only four, and was brought in alone—no father and the mother died last year.” Elain sniffed again. “I found four other remodeled fractures on him from over the last two years. One of them was on the back of his skull.”
Azriel had a feeling about where this was leading. “Abuse?” he asked, voice carefully soft.
Elain nodded. “It would appear so.” She wet her lips, finally meeting his gaze. “Az, he looks like you. He could be your son.”
His eyes widened, unsure of where she was going but he had a hunch.
“I picked out his Illyrian heritage easily enough, but his circumstances, the way he’s been brutalized…they all remind me of you. Of your past.”
He couldn’t argue with her. Just hearing about the pain that had been inflicted on him reminded Az of his childhood. In how his father and half-brothers tortured him. It took an effort to not glance down at his scarred hands, a physical reminder of the trauma he’d endured. “What’s going to happen to him?”
“I’ve been in touch with Child Protective Services and he will likely go into the foster care system. But, looking at what’s been done to him, in the fact that he refuses to talk, and is terrified of adults, I’m concerned he won’t even be considered for adoption…” She let the words hang there, hoping he’d pick up on the unspoken ones she hadn’t yet said out loud but was hinting toward.
Az cocked his head to the side. “You want to adopt him.” It wasn’t a question—it didn’t need to be one. He could see Elain’s every desire as if it were written on her forehead. She had fallen in love with that child.
She dipped her head in confirmation, lower lip trapped between her teeth.
He squeezed her fingers again, thinking over his next few questions. “Love, I need to ask you something, and I want you to promise me you won’t get upset with me for it. Because I think this question needs to be asked.”
Her tongue darted along her lip, but she nodded for him to continue.
“Could the desire to adopt him have anything to do with your pregnancy? I know you have a lot of hormones running through you right now, and your maternal side is going to be very potent. This isn’t just because of that, right? You truly want him?”
Elain was already shaking her head. “No, it’s not that. He was brought to me for a reason, Az. I can feel it in my gut.” Her small hand cradled her stomach in emphasis.
He kissed her knuckles. “And it’s not because he reminds you of me?” He needed to hear her say it. That she wasn’t trying to save this child because of the similarities, but because she truly wanted to take on another kid.
“I’ve never been one for higher powers, but there’s something about Kaden that has completely unraveled me. He fears people but he trusts me. I know, deep in my heart, he was brought to my hospital because I could give him the life he deserves. That we could offer him something better and love him so fully, he’ll never remember a time where he suffered.” Elain wiped the tear from under her lashes. “He is supposed to be our son, Az. I just know it down to my bones.”
It was a lot to consider. She was halfway through her pregnancy with twins and adopting a third child right now would be insane. But he knew they could do it—that they had the means and the love to give to three children. People might call them mad, but looking at her, he had never seen such determination in her eyes and he could feel it buzzing under his skin. “All right,” he said, squeezing her hand again. “I’ll come to the hospital tomorrow afternoon to meet him.”
Elain’s brown eyes brightened like rays of sunshine. “Really? You mean that?”
“If he’s important to you, then he’s important to me, love. That’s the only thing that matters.” And he meant it too. Azriel would lay the stars at her feet if she asked for them.
More tears ran down her cheeks as she slid off her chair and threw her arms around his neck. He held her close, one hand cupping the back of her head, fingers threading through her hair, and the other running lines up and down her spine.
“Thank you, Az,” she cried, dampening the skin of his throat.
He hushed her sobs, pulling back to hold her cheeks in his palms. “I love you, Elain. All of you. And I would give you anything your heart desires.” His words had her crying in earnest, enough so that it took him a while to calm her down.
Thoroughly exhausted, Azriel carried his pregnant wife up the stairs and put her to bed; a hum of excitement stirring in his chest at what was to come.
~~~
Azriel pulled into a parking spot outside of the hospital at exactly three o’clock. His heart was racing in his chest like he’d just run a marathon, his gut swirling with anxiety. Elain had told him that the boy—Kaden, he reminded himself—was fearful of adults. In particular, males.
What if he didn’t like him? If he was scared of him? The questions had been daunting him all day and if he was being honest with himself, he was worried. He was worried that he wouldn’t be able to form a connection with this child. That he’d only bond with Elain and would resent Az’s presence.
It was fucking irrational, he knew that. But still, the thoughts invaded his mind and refused to let go.
He pulled out his phone and checked the messages from Elain.
Third floor, children’s ICU.
He’s been exceptionally clingy to me today.
Az smiled down at his phone at the second message, picturing the little boy snuggled into his wife’s side when she visited him. Which, was every chance she got.
Taking a deep breath, he climbed out of the vehicle and headed to the front entrance.
The Moonbeam twins had taken up residence in the lobby and spotted him immediately, rising from their seats to greet him.
“Mr. Knight,” Fenrys spoke. “Is everything all right?” he asked, looking over his shoulder into the emergency room concerned.
“Everything is fine. I’m just meeting Elain for an appointment.” It wasn’t exactly a lie, but it wasn’t the truth either. They had decided to forgo telling anyone about the potential adoption until much further into the process, not wanting anyone to try and talk them out of it.
“Of course,” Connall said, stepping aside. “We won’t keep you waiting.”
He offered them a quirk of his lips before heading for the elevator, but he stopped on his way, spying the hospital gift shop. In particular, the stuffed teddy bear in the window. With a glance over his shoulders to make sure nobody had spotted him, he turned into the shop and plucked the bear out of the window display, taking it to the cashier.
A few minutes later, he was riding up to floor three, the soft, plush toy in his grip. Az tugged on the knot of his tie, loosening it around his neck. His hazel eyes spotted Elain across the floor, sitting on the edge of a bed. Her mouth was moving, but she was behind a closed door so he couldn’t hear what she was saying.
Like a moth to a flame, he moved toward her, his heart hammering in his chest as he approached the glass slider and knocked.
Elain’s head snapped up, the most radiant smile pulling on her lips as she beckoned him in with a wave of her hand. Fuck, she was so gorgeous. Even made more radiant by the pregnancy as she entered into the second-trimester glow.
Azriel slid the door open, catching the end of her sentence.
“—someone I’d like for you to meet.”
Her fingers threaded through a dark mop of hair, and he finally let his eyes roam over the small child clinging to her waist.
“Kaden, this is my husband, Azriel. Azriel,” she said, gaze flicking to his with a soft smile. “This is Kaden.”
He looked at the young boy, meeting his stare and offering him a calming smile. “Hello, Kaden. It’s nice to meet you.”
Not a sound. Nothing from him other than turning to bury his face further into Elain’s side.
His heart broke, but Azriel was nothing if not determined, placing the teddy bear on the bed against the railing.
Elain grinned at him, thumb rubbing over Kaden’s cheek. “Did you see what Azriel brought you?” she murmured.
A green eye, flecked with gold peeked out from Elain’s waist, glancing at the plush toy but he didn’t reach for it.
Az sat down on the rolling stool, sliding over to the opposite side of the bed as his wife.
“We were just reading a story,” she announced, handing him the book. “How about Azriel finishes for me?” she murmured, brushing Kaden’s dark hair away from his face. “How does that sound?”
He thumbed open the book, going to the page she indicated they left off on. Clearing his throat, he began to read, using the inflections of his voice to aid him in his efforts to make it engaging. Kaden didn’t move away from his wife the entire time he spoke, but he did eventually turn his head to watch him.
Azriel took in the child in his peripheral, seeing the resemblance of himself. He could see why she had claimed he could’ve been his son. Bearing nearly his identical coloring and many similar markers of his Illyrian heritage, Kaden could easily be mistaken as his biological child.
And yet, it was obvious that Kaden was terrified of him.
He sat there for an hour, reading with him, trying to converse with him, and nothing. Azriel felt like a failure. Rising from his seat, he bid the boy farewell, shooting his wife a sad smile.
“I’ll walk you out,” she told them, ruffling Kaden’s hair before following him out of the room.
“He hates me,” he groaned, stopping in his tracks and scrubbing the heels of his palms over his eyes.
Elain moved to stand in front of him. “He does not hate you, Azriel. He’s just intimidated by you—”
“How is that better?”
She ran a hand up his bicep to grip him around the back of his neck. “You can make yourself less intimidating, Az. You in a suit is a force to be reckoned with, and frankly, I have a feeling his father wore similar attire.”
His brows furrowed. “What makes you say that?”
Her thumb traced over his jaw. “The woman who found him refused to give the paramedics her name. They said she looked terrified to even be talking to them. He’s Illyrian, Az…” her voice trailed off, leading him to the answer.
“You think his father is in the Illyrian Mob.” Not a question but a statement of fact.
“Lorenzo Salazar,” Elain confirmed.
The name didn’t immediately register anything in his brain, but he had something to go off of now. Azriel would look into him, find every single detail about the man’s life, and then decide if he deserved to die for the pain and suffering he put his son through.
“Come back tomorrow in jeans and a plain shirt and I’m sure it will help,” Elain told him, bringing his attention back to her face. Her eyes glanced over his shoulder to the boy in the room, a smile tugging on her lips. “Az,” she whispered, nodding toward the room behind them.
Something warm flared in his chest as he turned, and saw Kaden clutching the teddy bear he brought tightly to his body.
Elain stepped up to his side. “If he was afraid of you, Azriel, he would not be touching that toy. You connected with him, even if you can’t physically see it, but you did.”
A sense of awe washed over him, followed by an overwhelming urge to love and protect that boy. He wasn’t sure how long they stood staring at his sleeping form until he breathed, “I want him, El…I want him to be a part of our family.”
Her soft hand slipped into his, fingers lacing. “So, let’s bring him home.”
With joy and love, they stood watching the boy who would one day soon become their son.
~~~~~
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i've recently had surgery and i need to pass along three vital pieces of advice (assuming you have similar post op instructions)
1. ocean spray apple juice. not mott's. i cannot emphasize this enough, it's so much better
2. if you can have apple juice you can almost certainly have apple cider for the ✨autumn vibes✨ (get the ones made from honey crisp apples, trust me on this)
3. buy a cane. oh my gosh buy a cane. didn't think i needed one because my main issue was getting out of bed, but here's the thing YOU CAN USE THE CANE TO PUSH OFF THE WALL YOURE LEANING ON! 100,000% easier to get up that way, its incredible. you can move all the muscle work to your arms and off your stomach/knees/legs
4. if your fridge is far from where you're sleeping during recovery, consider buying a mini fridge (my roommate found mine at a yard sale for $10) and maybe bring your tea kettle to wherever you sleep if you like tea. its helped me so so much
5. didn't do this but i wish i did- take your least favorite sweater (or buy one at a thrift store for like $2) and cut off one of the arms just above your elbow, cause otherwise you can't wear a sweater if they put the iv in your elbow and hospitals are damn cold
6. buy a button up pajama top!!! (or if you're crafty you could try altering your current pjs to have buttons) much easier to get dressed after if putting your arms above your head is difficult l. ALSO makes it way easier for doctors to place things like an ekg overnight and not make you freeze to death with it pulling down your shirt. also ALSO doctors can do exams on your stomach without your whole chest being on display if that's a thing you want to avoid. overall one of the best decisions i made and it only cost me $5
7. this is a stupid one but i had assumed hospital rooms wouldn't let me use the outlets in case they needed them, but they totally did. i charged my phone and used my heating pad (highly recommend investing in one if you haven't so far) all night and it was great
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PERSONAL BLABBER TIME
-long personal ramble ahead-
I don't really post personal stuff here, but there's no other platform I feel safe sharing. I don't really share a lot personal stuff online anyway, but I'm really excited about this and I'm just dying to get it all out and share my excitement with someone.
Like
Orange-cat zoomies excited.
🐈[nyoom]🐈
I've been afraid to open up and unmask for so long, but this is the one place I feel like I can be open about who I am. I don't care if anyone actually reads it, I just want to vent it out.
I'm about to start taking T (testosterone)!!!
I am AFAB and non-binary, and now trans-masc.
I've always hated the body I was born with since I was a kid, but never quite knew why. I was raised in a very conservative Christian household that strongly condemned anything outside the "norm". I was raised to be a "good submissive wife"
That never sat right with me, even as a religiously brainwashed kid. And now I understand why. Not just the creepy religious aspect (that's a whole 'nother deal), but that I was never supposed to be a woman.
I knew something was different about me ever since middle school, but I didn't have the experience or exposure to know why I felt wrong in my own body. I was a tomboy I guess, but it was more than that. I my autistic ass always hyperfixated on male fictional characters. Everyone always assumed I had a crush on them, but no, I wanted to BE those male characters.
I spent so many years thinking maybe if I was more perfectly feminine I'd be happy, starving myself to be ~pretty~ and accepted by my family and peers. That didn't do shit and just made me deeply and harmfully depressed and more confused.
I spent so many years "believing" gender and sexuality was a strict "good vs evil" thing. Even daring! to think of deviating from being cis or hetero (those terms are evil and "woke" btw /s) was an abomination. Anyone at all queer (definitely used as a slur by them) was going straight to hell.
I feel sick knowing I used to believe that.
Well, I didn't really believe it. It didn't make sense to me, but I was conditioned to think that way (for fear of punishment) so I went along with it. But it didn't make sense and confused me when I started to meet and make LGBTQ friends in high school and at my first job. They were such amazing people. I couldn't figure out how they were possibly "evil".
I'm so angry it took so long for me to finally break out of that brainwashed mindset and start thinking clearly for myself.
10 years later, after a long time away from my parents/family, it's all making sense. The egg has cracked.
I've since found the LGBTQA+ community and have never felt more accepted and understood. This is where I have always belonged and I'm so grateful to have made it this far to realize that.
I was making formal plans to off myself a few years ago (many factors involved), but seeing some of the things people posted here made me realize that I'm not broken and not worthless and helped inspire me to live.
Over the last few years (and yeah honestly tumblr has been an incredible learning and supportive community resource) I have come such a long way in my personal journey. I am learning who I am now.
I had top surgery earlier this year and it's the best decision I've ever made. I've never been happier in my life.
Somehow my family hasn't noticed.
Now I'm going to start T.
My family won't take kindly to this change. They are very homophobic and especially transphobic. But I'm no longer interested in being palatable to keep them comfortable. I am going to be me whether they like it or not.
For the first time in my life, that I can say with confidence, I want to live.
I am asexual.
I am aromantic.
I am non-binary.
I am trans.
I am queer.
#personal#lgbtqia#lgbtqa#lgbtq community#asexual#aromantic#nonbinary#transgender#queer#queer community#hrt#ftm hrt
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How is your top surgery recovery going?
Great! I have full range of motion back and can do everything I used to but now I'm a simpler cleaner more streamlined version of myself. I feel like I pressed the factory reset button on my body and now that it's calm and settled there's no other way I ever could have been.
I sometimes forget that I even got top surgery until I remember and that feels weird but it's more of a "oh I exist and these are the changes I made to my body and no one else got to have a say in it but me." Feeling. A very "ohh I'm in charge and I'm in control of my life" ouhhh.
My scars are healing well and my nipples look extremely normal. Best decision ive ever made health/sanity wise, worst decision I've ever made for my immediate financial wellbeing lol
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Happy pride month! I'm officially one year on hrt today and I have a consultation for top surgery scheduled in the fall :') Life hasn't been easy, but recognizing who I am as a man and beginning my transition has been one of the best decisions I've ever made~🏳️⚧️
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.
it's coming up on 3 months since i got top surgery and i just wanted to say that it was one of the best decisions i've made
getting it approved and scheduled was a frustrating process, recovering from the surgery was painful and gross and annoying and the antibiotics made me feel like shit. when i first got my bandages off and got hit by the enormity of the change and the fact i looked like frankenstein i had to sit on the floor and freak out briefly (possibly also the antibiotics and mega panikillers were not helping there). all of this was stressful and not fun!
but
at about the 2 month mark everything was suddenly better. like better than before surgery. i started hanging out around my apartment shirtless which was something i hadn't felt comfortable doing before. i put on a tanktop and got a total rush of euphoria from how it fit. there is just a constant feeling of relief
also i had the good fortune to have quite a few very supportive nurses and doctors. one of the best things that happened was right before they knocked me out for surgery one of the doctors/nurses came over and quietly double-checked my pronouns so she could make sure they used the right ones the whole time (even when i was unconscious) which was an extremely reassuring thing at that moment
so yeah, just wanted to say all that in case anyone following me has been considering top surgery. like yeah, getting the surgery was a lot of work and as someone who is low energy partly from chronic health issues it was a lot of effort. but i have absolutely zero regrets and feel great now
#personal#mp#i might delete this later but just wanted to put it out there#also happy to answer any questions about the whole process of it if anyone has questions#just send an ask (anon is fine)
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also top surgery was one of the best decisions I've ever made about my body. I can't believe how much better I feel.
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i think getting top surgery was one of the best decisions i've ever made. i've never felt so content and not self conscious in my entire life
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Today marks 3 years since I had my top surgery. 3 years since I made one of the best decisions I've ever made for myself. Something that I knew I wanted since I was 12 years old, but never had the words for. I never had the words until I was given resources to understand, stories shared by others helped me explain feelings that I thought I was alone in. Feelings that are indescribable to those who dont suffer in thier bodies.
But finally..FINALLY I found folks that dealt with the same struggle, and a solution to a pain I thought would never go away.
I will never regret my surgery. The freedom I've gained from something that made me feel so trapped.
Something I reflect upon every August is not having the support of my family in the decisions I've made. Not feeling a sense of pride from them regarding the freedom I have gained by being the truest version of myself and living outside of the tiny boxes that society has contructed for us.
Estrangement is a nasty beast and something that has drowned me in sorrow and suffering, and continues to daily. I'm not quite sure why I continue to cling to the idea that having understanding and empathy from the people who raised me will fill the void, that somehow thier understanding will make me feel more whole.
I see so many families who are so willing to accept the people they love,despite them not living up to the ideas of how society deems they should live. Yet mine cannot do the same for me. Maybe it's my inner child's deep desire to have some sort of authentic connection with those who tried to keep me safe, but realizing I wasn't actually as safe as I thought I was.
My current therapist has a saying that she has brought into many sessions which is that people are in our lives for a reason a season or a lifetime, and that people get on and off of the train we conduct in life.
I guess I just wonder, why I am not worthy of having my blood family be apart of my lifetime people? Why are the majority of the people I had in my first 20 years of life are able to pretend I'm not alive with no problem? What about myself is making this disconnect happen?
Did me openly discussing the trauma that we all had to endure together bring up too much?
Is accepting responsibility too much?
Is processing those hard monents and having honest conversations too much?
Am I the only one who it continues to affect?
Why does estrangement have so much power over me?
I don't really have a reason for writing all of this other than to try and understand better for myself and put it out into the ether that I am more than willing to have open, honest, hard conversations in order to try and bridge gaps of miscommunication and heal, but the want has to be from both sides.
Accountability and peoples realities have to be taken into consideration. I'm trying desperately to heal from something that I have no idea how to untangle and I'm starting to think maybe I'll just have to be okay with the understanding that I'll never know why.
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informed "consent" does not really exist for some things in the medical system, and the people who hold power in these institutions (such as doctors, nurses, specialists) need to be doing more to avoid abusing the power they possess, even unintentionally.
and not to subject everyone to a long-winded personal anecdote to get my point across but this is my blog and if you don't like me talking about my experiences then idk why you're following me anyway since that's literally all i blog about.
recently, i went to a doctor to get my uterus checked out because i experience periods so rarely and, when i do menstruate, they're completely debilitating. i had to have a transvaginal ultrasound and a biopsy, and was told it was within the realm of possibility i could be developing endometrial cancer. now, thankfully, i am not nor am i necessarily at an elevated risk of developing endometrial or uterine cancer. but, for two weeks after the appointment, the uncertainty of my test results made me so upset, so stressed, and lose so much sleep because, after a life of psychiatric control both at home and in hospital environments, after having so many of my physical issues dismissed, being denied care or care forced upon me by bigoted providers, and generally having a shit run of things in a system that robbed me of bodily autonomy and agency of choice, for some reason, and i don't know why (maybe feeling like i was owed mercy after surviving so much for so long?), i felt like this was the one thing that shouldn't go wrong. after years of transitioning, i've reached a place where i'm happy with my top surgery results, i'm happy never having bottom surgery, i'm happy not needing to take testosterone anymore, i'm happy with all the permanent changes i've undergone. and i just thought 'this is all done, i summited the metaphorical peak of my transition, i am completely content with all my progress, and none of it will be interfered with or undone' but, of course, i did not account for my uterus potentially being a goddamn ticking timebomb.
like, let's say i really did have precancerous endometrial cells and i really did need to get my uterus removed. regardless of everything i was reading to reassure myself about things like the risks of premature menopause and the impact of a hysterectomy on future orgasms and sexual sensation, it would always be a decision about my body and medical care that i would have had to make to preserve my life, despite not wanting to make it in the first place. in the end, i would just have to have a hysterectomy and hope for the best. i'm relieved that, at least for the time being, this is not my reality. i get to keep my uterus. my hormonal treatment options are still not the most ideal… but at least i get to keep my uterus.
and i say all of this because it made me think about my traumatic history within the medical system, breaking my treatment options down into a matrix, using examples from my own medical history:
need/want (e.g. vaccines, top surgery)
need/don't want (e.g. biopsies, hormonal treatment for menorrhagia)
want/don't need (e.g. removal of small and benign pillar cyst)
don't want/don't need (e.g. psychiatric hospitalization, antipsychotic medications)
and when i thought of this, i was thinking about my intersex friends who have been subjected to "don't want/don't need" operations or 'treatments' in their lives, and fellow psychiatric survivors whose hospitalizations and prescribed 'treatments' also fall under the "don't want/don't need" category. and how doctors don't seem to really care about the wants/needs of patients.
medical providers have to do a better job of preventing the prescriptions of "don't want/don't need" options, especially in the cases of intersex, neurodivergent, and disabled patients who are almost always coerced into accepting them, if not forced by someone with conservatorship/control over them. medical providers also need to do a better job of helping patients experiencing emotional distress over having to choose something like a life-saving treatment option that they do not want other than simply referring them to a psychiatrist. speaking from experience, almost none of my doctors have ever actually given me the space to ask questions and receive answers. they just refer me elsewhere and refuse to help me. this has always been the case. i want medical providers to actually fucking talk to and communicate with their patients in scenarios like this, in which (potentially or literally) life-saving treatment is needed, but which the patient wishes they did not need. i feel like i am constantly being asked to tell my own medical care providers to do their fucking job and it is so goddamn tiring.
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Change Is Possible
Nearing the end of the year, I want to remember a major time in my life that saved me. Cw for referenced suicidal feelings.
In 2019, the finale to the main series of Steven Universe was released. A lot of things had been building up in me, but this story made it all break in the right direction: I confronted my at-the-time emotionally abusive mother, and I started hoping for change. At the same time, I also had a fixation on Night In The Woods (good game I recommend always). These stories about change, and the possibility of a connection so far from where I felt trapped in the form of my best best best friend on the other side of the ocean, allowed me to take the right turn at a crossroads where my mental health couldn't sustain where it was.
One night, I lay in bed thinking about how desperately I didn't want to live this life. I didn't want to be who I was. The song from Night In The Woods, Die Anywhere Else, was in my head. I didn't want to die living this life. I wrote myself some personalized lyrics for fun and cope that changed it to Die Anyone Else. (I still have them somewhere but I ain't sharing it.)
I had a moment of surging emotions as I realized I could and I made the decision to change everything. I felt trapped, but it didn't have to be forever, right? I didn't have to be this or live this or die this. I could change my name and have my breasts removed finally and move to Germany where my QPP was and learn to speak a new language and be someone on the outside closer to who I wished I was and felt like I could be on the inside, and I didn't have to stay. I didn't have to stay with my family. I could leave them if they didn't treat me better. I could say NO without killing myself. (I could kill the idea of me that everyone else had.)
Now?
I've had top surgery. I've changed my name. I've moved to Germany. I'm grasping the language. And my relationships with various family members have improved without the need to cut them out — because I was able to physically be away from them.
I still struggle sometimes with hopelessness. But that progress... I'm in awe.
Change is possible.
Change is possible.
Change IS POSSIBLE.
#new years feelings#steven universe#night in the woods#personal#trans stories#not allowing reblogs but ok to comment and I hope this helps someone to connect with
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I'm worried about a lot of things in regards to getting top surgery, I want it, I know it's what's going to be best for me long term. I'm having a lot of thoughts and feelings in regards to my case specifically, but if anyone sees this and has any thoughts, please share.
I think one issue I am having is that I have spent a lot of time learning to love my body, and I do, but I'm worried that this appreciation may be part of what's holding me back, maybe disguising itself as comfort in fleeting moments
I have always struggled with hoarding, I wasn't allowed to have things at one parents house and then was mostly unregulated at the others. I'm finally decluttering, getting rid of things from years and years ago that I don't need, and it's been really hard, but I felt so much better being free of those things months later. I'm worried that my compulsion(?) to keep my breasts may be related to my history with hoarding. When I think about getting top surgery, I often think about how freeing it will be and how much better my life could be, but I also get the same sort of gut wrenching emotional pain as when I was parting with the things I'd hoarded. I'm unsure if this is just some kind of grief?
Is it normal to have an attachment to my breasts and the details of them from learning to love my perceived flaws over time? I worked so hard to love myself and I feel like I'm ruining something I worked so hard for, because what if I get this done and I hate it? I'm never have my body back the way it was, although I know I'm not happy now either
This isn't a high priority for me, but I do wonder about the convenience and security of being able to breast/chest feed if I have children. I don't think I really care about it as a "bonding experience", maybe because I don't really feel connected to that part of me anyway. I'm sure I'm just trying to sabotage myself, but I keep wondering about if I have a baby and there's another formula shortage or something like that, is it selfish to take away that potential safety net for a child I don't/might never have, potentially starving them in this imaginary scenario because I wanted to be comfortable in my body? I know it literally doesn't matter, I know if something happens I'll figure it out.
On a similar note, when I think of breast/chest feeding, I am a bit put off. My body doesn't need to feed a child(who is honestly lucky if it gets made at all). I can hold and feed and bond with a child without making myself suffer, so why do I keep using this as an excuse
I'm worried my husband may not be attracted to me afterwards, he really likes my chest as it is now and was very shocked and seemed uncomfortable when I told him I was considering it and looking for therapists/hrt options/surgeons. He doesn't like hearing about medical procedures, and I think my other (much smaller) surgical scars kind of ick him out (there's more to it, he doesn't say anything bad about them, it's just that thinking about surgery/human insides at all really bothers him)
I'm so afraid my dad is going to see a bill to his insurance for a gender therapist or my top surgery consult and just pull the insurance early. As it is I only have until mid September before my insurance runs out completely. I'm worried my timeline may be impossible, that I've waited so long and one sabotaged myself.
I'm really hoping they'll let me cremate the bits they take off, it's really important to me that I have all my parts, whether they're inside/attached to me or not.
I'm worried about how my body will recover, it generally heals very slowly, I'm so afraid of the surgery itself, and being put under anesthesia, I've never had a surgery this big before and I'm honestly so afraid it might be my last decision, but I'm also afraid that all my fonts not are just cold feet. I got cold feet before my wedding, I still think I should have stood by my decision and waited another year, I think if I had been able to give the time to myself this last year that I had previously given, I would have sorted my gender issues out a lot sooner.
Any advice or support is highly appreciated
#vent blog#chronic illness#disabled#major depressive disorder#mdd#nonbinary#top dysphoria#transgender#top surgery#gender dysphoria#trans ftnb#im so tired#looking for help#advice please#cw dysphoria#marriage advice#nblm
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I'm a year and a couple months post-top surgery now. Pics are a couple days, a month, and a year post-op. One of the best decisions I ever made. You can see the remnants of a seroma that never fully drained, which is a little annoying, but which hardly matters next to all the other benefits I've gotten out of surgery. I intermittently think about writing or talking publicly (irl) about my transition and how life-changing it's been for me. If I wanted it, I have access to a fairly large platform professionally. I think about this whenever there's some new legislative or culture war bullshit (which is all the damn time now), then never do. It never feels worth it to put myself on display and risk creating the impression that my private life and medical history are, broadly, other people's business -- especially when I'm early enough in my career that most of the people I meet outside my immediate professional circle don't know I transitioned. To be clear, I'm not ashamed of myself, but there are material social/emotional/professional consequences to people knowing you're trans.
What I keep coming back to is this: there's nothing novel or insightful I can add to the conversation about why gender-affirming care matters that hasn't already been said by other trans people. The problem isn't that we haven't made ourselves clear, it's that cis people can't or won't listen. The fear and discomfort they feel about transition (and gender more generally) will always be prized over the benefit transition gives us. And I understand why: if you've never experienced dysphoria, it's next to impossible to conceptualize. Even the best metaphors are ineffectual, and appealing to universal feelings of "discomfort in your own skin" just gets weaponized as a reason why transition isn't necessary, because doesn't everyone feel uncomfortable in their own skin sometimes?
It's like how someone who is blind can touch a spherical object and recognize other spherical objects by touch, but if they saw one, they wouldn't be able to connect the visual and tactile information. If you've always been able to see, that a sphere feels spherical is not only so obvious it's redundant, but so obvious that imagining a sphere that doesn't feel spherical is impossible. Imagine how frustrating it would be to explain why a sphere feels spherical, and how you know this, and you begin to approach what it feels like to explain gender dysphoria and the necessity of transition care to cis people. The empathy gap is just too big, and like pretty much all empathy gaps, it can't be plugged with facts. That just isn't how our brains work. It doesn't matter how many studies about the benefits of transition you produce. They'll always be less real than a cis woman's conviction that it would be awful for anyone born with breasts to "lose" them, because it would be awful to her to lose hers. Transphobic detransition narratives are powerful precisely because they affirm what cis people already believe about transition and require no empathy to grasp. I've wasted so much brainpower trying to find the perfect way to explain all of this, but now I think it's less important that cis people have a perfect understanding of transness than that they recognize how that lack of understanding colors their feelings about trans issues.
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I am so very excited for you for top surgery, I got mine a year and a half ago and it's still maybe the best decision I've ever made. the drains were the worst part for me, at one point I yanked on one of them and it wasn't the worst pain I'd ever been in but oh God was it up there. totally get the issues with laying in one place, I'm also hypermobile. if you have access to a recliner when you're done in the hotel it was way easier for me than using pillows to stay upright so I always suggest that. hope you're healing up soooo well!!! so excited for you to get to open those bad boys up and take a peek!
aaa thank you so much ronan!! this was such a sweet message to get while i was recovering!! i'm very happy to say i'm free of drains now and i got to see my chest and i'm just so so delighted, and healing is going super smooth. :') sending big hugs!!!
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