Unless you've been through it, you have no idea what it feels like. And unless you've loved such a person, you don't know anything about that either. 

I can see from the spelling he's shaking. 

It's day 3 now. Past the hairpin turn of day 2.

We'll be counting days this time. 

Can you imagine 365 days? In that time, if you do some version of full monty quit: telling Everybody to put eyes on your self, out the silent suffering closet ya go (hey, you didn't transition, and even if you did 🖕), the right antidepressant so your junk works n you don't ideate beyond what is literarily necessary, vitamins, real therapy. You can feel sound again. And anything might happen. You might accidentally get kinda hung up on an ex whom your mom adores and try to perform soul-cpr via dream fucking. And/or date therapy chickens (fish, goats, cats, a rescue horse), ya never know. Anything!, z'all I'm sayin, the world's your oyster 🦪. At the very least, it could have oysters (or clams) in it.