Day 20.
I’d thought that after 15 days of my serous fluid leak, having it stop for the past 2 days and nights meant it was finally, *fiiiinally* done with. Apparently I thought wrong.
Spot’s catching up on drying off, after I woke up with soggy bedsheets again. Looks like I tucked him into bed, from this angle.
(Not that I could sleep much with tomorrow morning’s doc visit. The body is willing, but the mind is a chattery, excited mess.)
Day 19.
Let’s face it. If you know me at all, you already knew googly eyes were a thing that were going to happen on this blog.
Nine more expressions to go! 83
Day 16. And today, to my surprise, the leg skin graft patch lifted from the reddened skin underneath! At last, freedom from the scabby flake trails that’ve been following me the past two days as it fully dried out!
…Or at least it would’ve been free, if the whole thing hadn’t have snagged on the *one nano-millimeter* still anchored to the skin, opening up a gusher of fresh blood as it fell.
It’s okay. I had cupcake bandages on hand.
And now for something completely different! If we’re going by binary concepts of a person’s junk, that is. As I had no dysphoria regarding my factory-original plumbing itself (as admittedly freakishly small as it all may be), I felt no need to have any of it removed.
As far as I’m aware, Dr. Crane is the only surgeon out there at the moment who’ll perform surgeries for people a la carte like this, meaning there are all of maybe fifteen or so folks with junk like mine in the world. I’m thrilled to be one of them AND grateful that I still feel like my body’s whole now. The lessened healing time of not going for a v-ectomy is just a bonus.
These are the After pictures of what my “warp zone,” as I call it, looks like post-phalloplasty (the phallus being visible in the photos from directly above the hole). Overall, the inner/outer labia are both entirely gone, with stitching in a complete ring around the entrance from inside. The interior space is untouched from how it was before, but there’s noticeably less natural lubrication near the surface– a bit, just not much.
From the bottom looking up, the divide between pubic hair and phallus looks super stark, though when looking down on it from above, it actually cuts off at levels that look more like a natural progression.
In’nit keen? The irony that it now resembles a mortuary scar is not lost on me. :3
Holy moley! It’s already Spot’s 2-week-iversary? How time does fly.
This calls for cake!
Here’s the other star member of my phalloplasty crew, besides Dr. Crane’s surgeon team and my leg graft. I present the yin to my dong’s yang: the forearm donor site. I call it the Rubber Chicken Arm.
I’ll admit, even as a long-time body horror connoisseur, I was a little put off at first by having this sucker now be a permanent part of my arm. And yet, I’ve come to enjoy seeing it for the few minutes of every day that I change its gauze and dressings. It’s got its own sort of Addams Family charm I’ve always had a soft spot for, and I couldn’t’ve had my dong without it, after all.
When folks ask me about it, I tell them “I traded a wizard a pound of flesh for a bigger dick.” Which, y’know. Technically isn’t lying.
Day 13. First post-op doctor visit today, and it’s almost all good news! The discolored tissue I worried about is merely like a top layer of snakeskin that’s going to flake away to have healthy skin growing below within the next week or two.
There was only one patch of skin that died in the grafts, and it’s that little black mark up near the head. Meaning my junk’s official nickname is now “Spot.” I’m not even mad! Gives it some charm.
Check out all the bruises where I got my six or seven Heparin shots, though! I don’t care what anybody thinks– I’m glad they won’t be there forever, but I’m always appreciative of the aesthetic beauty of a good bruise.
Was putting some Medihoney on the two teeny spots I rubbed open Day 1 out of the hospital (by using dry toilet paper instead of baby wipes; don’t do that, folks), when I noticed: some of the stitches around the base of the head are already starting to dissolve! Keen-o!
With all the dick pics, there’s a couple more stars of my phallo procedure I’ve been leaving out: the left forearm, and the synthetic skin patch on my left leg. Couldn’t be enjoying having a dong right now if I didn’t have both these skin donor sites to thank. Let’s introduce one tonight, eh?
My left leg was used as the donor site to give my forearm back the skin used to make the new phallus. It’s a huge patch, almost the size of a sheet of notebook paper. One day, the dressing on top of it will fall off, and the whole rectangle will be a giant scab. Neat, huh?
First pic: Day of surgery. This is what I woke up from the procedure to find.
Second: Day 2 post-op.
Third: Day 5; last day in the hospital. It’s learned how to sweat.
Fourth: Day 7, aka This Thing Is Oozing Constantly, How Do I Even Sit Down Without Making Everything A Goopy Yellow-Tinged Disaster. (Answer: towels. Sitting on lots of towels.)
Fifth: Day 11. FINALLY, it’s all dried up. Now the only trouble is how itchy it is. Enough to not be able to get to sleep for a couple nights.
It’s getting better. Slowly.
Day 11 post-op. Getting a little concerned at the amount of discolored smooze both around the head and in the urethra, so I finally took a pic of the underside of the dong for once, and…
…I reaaally don’t think it’s supposed to look like that. Not that I’m at all an expert; that’s the scary part, that I have no idea. The skin bubbles, I can deal with; it’s the mystery crud in the crevices that has me worried.
No way to leave a message or contact the surgeon’s office until Monday. Wish me luck that nothing’s gone necrotic.
Chinchilla Meat 