From hills to valleys

Since the surgery 12 days ago I've tried not to look too closely at the carnage my double mastectomy left behind. From the few brief glances I've had in the mirror I can say that what's left on my chest sort of resembles rotten, bruised fruit...Yuck! On each breast there are incisions with sutures down the center, on the sides and below. It's like where there once were two small hills, there are now yellow and purple valleys, with train tracks going through. Sad but true. Mr. Pincushion, who can be squeamish, was getting ready to help me out of my post-surgery bra for the first time, when he paused and said, "Wait. I need a minute to prepare for this. Will I be shocked?" Fortunately, after the unveiling, he said "Actually, it's not that bad." Phew! What if he had passed out or got sick? Maybe, one day soon, I'll be able to look at my chest and not feel incredibly sad or horrified. But for now I'm just going to stay away from mirrors.