The steps

The waiting is driving me CRAZY. I feel good enough, but I'm still in a little bit of pain, and as directed, still moving around very slowly and avoiding all arm-moving things. (It's hard to get dressed without lifting your arms above your head. Not that this is new. Surgery No. 6: I knew this. But it doesn't make it less frustrating.)
I keep thinking we've already hit the one-week mark. Not yet. That will come Wednesday. I know I have to be patient, but I'm anxious to feel better, not be in pain, not have restrictions, be done with this, and GET BACK TO MY LIFE. It's frustrating. Which brings me to the main topic in this post: the steps.
After each of my six surgeries, I have always counted down to, and used "the steps" as ways to break up the recovery and figure out how much of this and that I have left. Here are the steps. I hate them, by the way.
Step 1: the day of and night of surgery. The first day and first night are the hardest. Everything hurts and I always feel really sick from the anesthesia. Following the first day is a really bad headache, and everything in my mouth tasting bad for about a week. Also to be considered in step 1: the tapering off of prescription pain meds, which I usually try to do after 2 days.
Step 2: first shower and bandage removal. Assuming I don't have drains (which I didn't this time and didn't for the first implant exchange surgery last October), I can usually remove the bandages and shower at hour 48. This is always extremely scary. Removing the bandages, no matter how many times you do it and how much you know your plastic surgeon is amazing, you always fear it will look really gross. I always think I'm going to be shocked and faint. But it's never that bad. It's a relief to take the bandages off and realize my body has not been as destroyed as I pictured. And then the first shower is always the hardest because I'm re-teaching myself how to do things with limited use of my arms. (Shampooing, etc.)
Step 3: first post-op appointment, which I had today. At the first post-op you see the nurse who checks on everything. A week later is the plastic surgeon appointment. At this point I still have all of my restrictions. Which would make sense because it hasn't even been a week yet.
Step 4: the last Bactrim. I'm always on Bactrim about 5-6 days after surgery (or longer with drains) to prevent infection after surgery. Once those pills are gone I know I am moving forward.
Step 5: plastic surgeon appointment. During this time, USUALLY the steri-strips are removed, I can see the new scars for the first time (or same scars that were re-opened), and most of my restrictions are lifted. This is really the final step. Once the restrictions are lifted, even though I will take things slowly and ease back into my activities, this news is always amazing. It means I can't hurt myself by lifting something, stretching, sleeping on my side, etc. It means the implants are set in and nothing I can do will ruin that. They can't move, and the incisions have healed. I always think I'm going to hurt myself after surgery, so hearing from the doctor during the final step that I can't, is such a sense of freedom.
Right now I'm only awaiting step 5, which I guess is good. But not being able to use my arms is driving me crazy. I want to shower like a normal person, be able to walk my dog, carry my purse, sleep on my side, lay on my foam roller, stretch. Move. I HATE this. My neck and upper back are in nots because I can't stretch. I can't lay on my foam roller. I can't wear normal bras yet. I just want my life back. And it's annoying I'm doing this again. Relief? Not quite there yet.
I thought I would be SO happy and SO relieved once the expanders were out, and I am, but I won't be really relieved and really happy until I can live my life again. Seeing other people move normally makes me sad. People don't realize how lucky they are to move with ease. Lift their arms in the air, stretch their back and arms, drive, open bar doors with ease and not be worried about banging or smooshing something. To get up off the couch without feeling pain, to get up out of bed without a pulling feeling, to put on deoderant normally. EVERYTHING IS DRIVING ME CRAZY. I HATE this.
I'm jealous of everyone who just gets to move normally. Just wake up in the morning, and not feel the pain that six surgeries does to your body. Not have six surgeries worth of anesthesia in your system. Be able to sit up straight. Not have your chest mutilated six times. I AM NEVER, EVER, EVER HAVING SURGERY AGAIN.
I KNOW I'm lucky I feel good, lucky I'm healing properly, lucky this was the last surgery. I know I'm lucky. It could be 1 million times worse. Trust me, I know that. I'm thankful every day for the life I have. But lately I've just felt frustrated that I can't go to a yoga class friends are going to this weekend, or get dressed with ease, or carry a purse or walk down the stairs fast. It's all so annoying. That's not even the word. Sure, I can say I'm frustrated and annoyed. But I'm also just so, so, so, so, so sick of this. I want my life back and I want to never, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever do this again. Maybe that's why I got the left mastectomy. Because I never, ever, ever, ever, ever want to do this again.
And just to recap, here are what my surgeries were. SURGERY IS TERRIBLE. I'M NEVER DOING THIS AGAIN.

Surgeries:
1. Right mastectomy and right tissue expander, May 2011
2. Remove more skin on the right to get clear margin, August 2011
3. Right expander comes out and implant gets put in, left implant put in for symmetry, October 2011
4. Right implant comes out due to it ripping my skin, January 2012
5. Right expander put in again, left mastectomy with expander, July 2012
6. Right and left expanders exchanged for implants, September 2012

I know these surgeries saved my life and are going to give me back my life. They took away my cancer, helped prevent getting cancer again/another cancer, and are going to give me my body back so I feel whole again. These surgeries saved my life. I know that. But that doesn't change how I feel. I'm 27 and want to live like I'm 27. I don't think that's too much to ask.
Should we end on a positive note? I'll try, for my sake. THIS IS TEMPORARY.