Four foul fluid fecal evacuations yesterday. One of them was very nearly messy – I got to the loo just in time. Thank goodness today is the last day of antibiotics!
First night in bed after three nights where I was sleeping in the car for at least part of the night. My husband’s “fever” appears to be “breaking” (if you take me meaning), which is wonderful, but would have been more wonderful if I’d not had an antibiotics induced dodgy tummy that led to an additional three or four visits to the loo in the night.
Today I’m working from home to give him some company. We have a lot to talk about … but not today.
By the end of yesterday, my stitches were beginning to ache, so I’m wearing a dressing to give them a rest. I showed my husband the scar and how the dressing goes on. He observed that there was still a lot of bruising. I suppose there is really, but compared to what there was it’s really nothing. The bruises in my abdomen are gone, as is the bruise on my cock. There is still some colour around the scar. I can’t easily see the base. It’s still swollen and raised along it’s length, I think that’s going to take a long time to flatten.
It’s still feeling a bit sore today, and I’ve realised that I’ve finished the anti-inflammatory pills on Monday, which could explain why I’m a bit less comfortable today.
I was chatting with a friend yesterday about how I felt when I saw my testicles in a dish. It’s an image that is extraordinarily vivid in my mind, which is surprising because I wasn’t aware of any strong emotions then – or now. When I look back on it, the orchids themselves were actually quite pretty, my memory of them makes them a clean white with a hint of pink; I seem to remember a few blue and red markings on them. I didn’t recognise them as ever having been part of me, I suppose that was because I’d never seen them before. I don’t remember seeing any of the connecting pipes or ganglia. The bag was exactly as I remembered it when it was still attached to me. I remember thinking “God! That’s ugly!”, but whilst I recognised that it had once been a attached to me, it didn’t feel like it had ever been a part of me – it still looked like a foreign body or growth. The doctor took a picture, on my request, but has never sent it on. I think I want the photo, but I believe that is only because I’ve recorded as much of this experience as I could and I feel the record is incomplete without it.
The assessment with Beyond Reflections was interesting. I was primarily interested in them as a source of support for my husband, which I think they can be. For myself, some of their services might have been useful when I was still trying to work things out. As it stands, there is only one group that I think might be right for me and that would be the non-binary group; that’s because I’ve not really given that aspect of my identity much thought to. It was my husband who had first said “you’re non-binary now”, and I adopted it.
I was the first eunuch that my assessor had ever encountered, and to his knowledge, Beyond Reflections hasn’t got any eunuch (or nullo) members. I wonder if their’s is an organisation that would adapt to include us? Do we want to be included? For many of us gender isn’t an issue, for some of us it is.
I do think that Beyond Reflections may be able to help my husband and other partners, so I’ll add their details to a wiki page:
Regarding my husband, his “fever” has “broken”. He’s in a sorry state, feeling very low and it’s very shaky, but he is himself again. I hope we have a relaxing evening together … at last!
Eunuchorn 
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