Adam gave the doctor a nod, and the man stepped out of the room. After taking a deep, shaky breath, Adam pulled off his t-shirt and set it aside, then grabbed the small gown and draped it over his lap so it would be ready. Then he had to swallow hard before he grabbed the hem of his chest binder, hesitating there for a moment, heart racing inside his chest. He took a deep breath, whipped the binder off, snatched up the gown, and started to pull it on.
His hands shook, and he nearly dropped the thing. He felt more than heard John step forward. Adam flinched, but John carefully reached around him, took the gown, and held it out so Adam could slip his left arm through the hole. They repeated the process with the right arm, and then Adam snatched the frontof the gown, holding it closed, as John silently took a step back again.
Shit. Adam felt uncomfortably naked, sitting there with that flimsy piece of fabric covering him.
The doctor knocked and came back in. He shut the door, sat down on the stool, and rolled forward.
Adam slowly let go of the gown, looking up and away as the doctor narrated everything he was doing, opening the gown, palpitating Adam's chest to determine breast tissue volume, and talking about the merits of a buttonhole technique versus keyhole.
Throughout it all, Adam's heart felt like it was trying to beat its way right out of his chest. His underarms were damp, and he felt sweat running down along his spine. The overhead lights burned like a blazing spotlight on a stage.
But while he liked stage lights, he most definitely did not like this one.
“Okay, I'll let you get dressed,” the doctor said, rolling back, “and then we'll have another quick talk and get you scheduled. Sound good?”
Adam let out a shuddering breath, managing a nod in response. The doctor barely pulled the door shut before Adam was snatching up his binder, ripping off the gown, and rushing to get dressed again.
He didn't take a full breath until everything was back in place, keeping the unwanted parts strapped down.
A heavy, warm hand landed gently on his shoulder. “Breathe, baby. It's okay.”
Adam nodded, reaching up to rest his own hand over John's, then took a deep breath, the trembling slowly easing out of him while they waited for the doctor to come back. “Thank you for being here,” Adam said.
“Always,” John murmured in reply just before the doctor knocked and came back into the room.
“So?” the doctor asked as he resumed his seat. “How are you feeling?”
“Ready to finally get this over with,” Adam admitted.
The doctor nodded, then they talked again about the different techniques now that Adam was calmer and could more easily focus. Adam opted for the buttonhole technique, since it would allow the nipples to be moved farther down and apart, giving his chest a more masculine appearance. Once that was settled, the doctor brought them into the office of his surgical coordinator, who would review costs and payment options and get the appointment scheduled.
Adam and John sat beside one another in front of the desk. The woman handed Adam a sheet of paper, detailing the charges for the surgery. They discussed insurance and payment plans, and Adam said he could pay for it out of pocket, if need be.
The woman didn't even bat an eye at that, but simply pulled up the schedule on her computer and said, “Let's see when we can get you in.”
Adam clamped his hands between his knees.
“We have an opening in three weeks,” the woman said, “and the next availability after that is late September.”
“Three weeks,” Adam blurted out.Holy shit. Really?“That one,” he insisted.
John leaned forward. “What about the wedding? Is your healing going to interfere with that?”
“I'm singing at my friend's wedding in the middle of August,” Adam explained.
“Oh! You should be fine. You'll have your first follow-up a week after the surgery, at which point you'll have any stitches out, and then weekly follow-ups after that for a while, but other than not being able to raise your arms above shoulder-level for afew weeks and having restrictions on what you can lift for about a month, there shouldn't be anything to interfere with that.”
Adam nodded to himself. The doctor had already thoroughly explained the post-op restrictions. He'd have to set up his apartment so that everything he needed was no higher than chest-level. And as far as singing went, he'd only have to lift his hands to his mouth to hold a microphone if he stepped away from the stand.
A grin took over his face. “Three weeks,” he said again, giving a decisive nod. The sooner he got the whole thing over with, the better.
He'd already waited a decade, after all.
Adam went home after John promised to make arrangements to take time off work to take care of Adam post-op. The poor man still looked exhausted but determined. Adam started to say he'd find one of his friends to do it so John would have one less thing to think about, but John immediately shut down that idea. He'd promised Adam that he'd always be there, and this was too big and important for him to miss.
The whole thing had Adam grinning incessantly. His cheeks ached by the time he got home, but he couldn't stop. He ran straight to his calendar and drew a big, red circle around the date.Three weeks. Holy shit!He couldn't wait!
Adam pulled out his phone and sent a text to the whole group, daddies and boys alike. Then he sent a separate one to Skylar, though he didn't expect a response from him for hours, considering the boy was probably fast asleep.
