Post-Op, Day 2

L* got a good night's sleep last night. Her goal today is rest and recuperation.

That said, she's already taken several walks around the living room, the dining room,
and out into the garden.

She had her regular breakfast, and snacked on watermelon and dried plums.

Now she's reclining on the day bed, surrounded by pillows. Earlier she was reading a book (Monique Truong's The Book of Salt)
watching a lifetime movie (and maybe dozing off). We set up a netflix account so that we can catch up on all the movies we haven’t seen in the past few years.

Although initially hesitant to take the vicodin last night, L* has been taking them on schedule today.
I was reading Audre Lorde, and she said that for her the first day after the surgery was great and that next days were full of incredible pain.

I forgot to mention that L* has lost her voice, from the intubation tube during surgery. When she first got out of surgery she whispered that her throat hurt, and asked for ice chips. Today she can speak softly to me.

I turn my phone off when it starts ringing. L* gets many loving phone calls from friends both far near. She has to speak with my voice. People call up all excited hoping to speak with her, so it’s just a little awkward. Everyone is very sweet.

We planned on tabouleh for dinner around six. Now, I should explain that L* has done nearly all the cooking for us, for the last ten years. I often play the role of sous chef, washing and chopping vegetables for her, but almost never actually prepare a meal. This is because a) L* likes to cook, b) L* is a really good cook and c) I don’t really have a joy for cooking. I usually explain that I appear to model myself on my mother, twenty-five years ago, when dinner was accomplished with much banging and occasional curses.

L*’s trying to relax (she’s bored) but the medications keep her from really getting into The book of Salt Finally I remember I have a mystery on audio, and she’s able to tune in and tune out.

I take a nap around three, and wake up a little behind time for making dinner. With much banging, and at least one little break, I get most of dinner together but then have to run out to go buy a tomato. Clearly this cooking part is going to take a little more work and concentration.

The tabouleh is a little harsh on L*’s sore throat, but she makes a valiant attempt. After a little while, she decides that the some of the leftover lasagna would provide the necessary protein.

Earlier in the week--before the surgery--L* had read Octavia Butler’s final novel Fledgling, which features a vampire race, the Ina. L* tells me, “If I were Ina, I could go out and eat some meat to heal. Or if you were my symbiont, I could just take some of your blood.” We decide that sushi would be a good option for Monday night. Tuesday another colleague is bringing us dinner, and on Wednesday, we’re gonna set L* up at the kitchen table, where she can be the executive chef, and I will be the sous chef working under close supervision.

We come up with a plan for the evening so we can be in bed by ten.

I haven’t mentioned how full of laughter my L* is. All the other butches--studs, as the young folk say--will be very jealous of her in her newly liberated state. YoMo telss me the same thing when she calls.