I am trussed like a turkey: First the jog bra, then about three windings of a 6-inch Ace bandage. The lack of jiggle is nice given the soreness and swelling in that left breast. But oh, it is hot. “San Francisco summer” has come upon us. The fog is gone. It is 75 degrees at the beach, 80-85 downtown. That doesn’t sound hot to people outside the Bay Area. But this is San Francisco, there is no air conditioning. And I am wrapped up in essentially four layers of very snug underwear, popping Vicodin.
The doc says give it three days, then emails that the “tincture of time” is the hardest medicine to take. I love that turn of phrase. I love that my surgeon studied literature before she went to med school. By this afternoon, I am really done with the tincture of time, though. I decide to throw off my shackles, unwind my Ace bandage.
It feels delicious. The granny bra feels downright liberating, even daring. And it all reminds me that it’s the little things that make a life.
Update: About an hour after I write this post, I realize that even though the swelling is down and the bruising color show is more muted, I still need the Ace bandage. It’s still the little things that make a life. It just depends on which little things are most important in the moment. Is it freedom and coolness, or is it lack of jiggle?