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Other recommended blogs: Amy, Calpernia, Claire, Gwen, Kara, Reise, W3bgrl-Auntie Solder.
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Friday, 2004.07.02:
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Aiyaaa... I'm so tired. I think I'm getting kinda sick. Ugh. Not good when you are close to surgery. Oh well...
The Surgery Series: Now begins a special series of blogs detailing what may be one of the most extensive SRS diaries. It is a collection of jumbled notes on paper and memories that finally made it into electronic format. (Warning: the descriptions can be pretty graphic! ) It's long and mostly for my benefit, but if you want to live it through my eyes then read on! Otherwise skip ahead to the 18th where all the normal blogs resume.
General SRS information is also available in a special section.
Yeah, I've been really busy recently. In additional to all my normal stuff that goes on several people decided to move right around now. So for the past week or so I've been helping people schlep boxes around. I think I'm also having an allergy attack from all the unsettled dust and stuff. I'll say that I have a lot more practice driving San Francisco hills in a manual transmission and I also realize how weak I really am.
Being estrogen-powered really takes a lot out of you. I still have all that muscle bulk I used to have but I have no stamina at all. It's like I picked up a load I normally thought was manageable and then like 5 seconds later my muscles are screaming for a break!
Making it through the day is really tough right now because I'm just so physically exhausted. It's a good thing my new French press is holding a bunch of really nice warm oolong tea...
...
Now why did I choose Dr. Meltzer for SRS? Hm. Well, there are indeed a number of very well-trained specialists who can perform the same kind of magic Dr. Meltzer does. But several factors came into play:
- Distance from home. I wanted someone who was relatively close. How long to you want to spend on a plane and also in terminals transferring flights? And (I didn't initially think of this) since you have to dilate often then if you're stuck in a long transit you may have to dilate in the plane or at a terminal!
- Experience. Dr. Meltzer has performed over 1,700 such surgeries. I like people who have "seen it all" because human bodies vary so much. As another person put it to me, it's the "Christmas present" effect: you don't know what a person's anatomy really has in it until you open it up.
- Recovery center. The recovery center is awesome. I had been to Greenbaum previously and loved the staff, the quality of care, and the facility. If I was going to be recovering in a hospital-like setting, this was it. And, yes, the rumors are true: they do serve some of the best food.
- Doctor-patient relationship. I think it is absolutely critical that the doctor should made the patient feel cared for and important---the so-called "bedside manner". I found Dr. Meltzer to be a very warm, patient, knowledgeable, competent human being. This means I can put my complete trust in him and know that his services extend beyond the operation and into the aftercare phase.
Saturday, 2004.07.03:
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Packed and ready to go at 2:45a. Amazingly I have room to spare. The way I figured it out I took virtually just the minimum amount of clothing. Also, I have this plan---yes, a plan. Some of the clothing and supplies (e.g. pads, Surgilube) I will actually throw away or remove from my backpack (e.g. cane, donut) and that will make room. Yup, all of the packing list fits neatly into my backpack and my small carry-on. I'm expecting to use Steve's bags as overflow---I already told him about that.
I'm feeling a little sick actually. I don't know what really brought this on except maybe a lot of physical stress and little sleep. I'll remember not to do this again before my second stage for labiaplasty. I've been going through gallons of liquids in the past few days. I really hope things get better before Tuesday...
 Airbags are ironic, no?  Power napping! |
It's about 12:30p and Kara's here with me in the airport terminal less than 72 hours away from when the procedure will take place. I'm glad she's along for the ride here. It's also slightly reminiscent of what me and C. went through last October in more ways than one. C. was sick this time; so am I---though I would rather not be.
Think positive thoughts. I will get better. I will get better...
Sunday, 2004.07.04:
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We're back in our room that will home base for the next few days. I just think it's wrong when it's the middle of the night and it's still 80 degrees outside. But just like the locals say: it's a dry heat.
After unpacking at the hotel Kara and I ended up driving down to get some dinner near Old Scottsdale. We wandered a bit and found ourselves outside this little place that looked semi-posh. We peered through the windows and it seemed to be a place that would require clothes nicer than the casual jeans and t-shirts we had on. Yet there was a willing waiter right outside beckoning us in. The prices were moderately expensive but the menu seemed palatable to both of us, so we joined the other candlelit tables. I'll say the food was decent and the house pinot grigio very soothing, though the service somewhat lacking. Still, this would probably be our best meal before I have to do the nasty bowel prep.
Boredom made us look inside one of the local rags and Spiderman 2 was the final choice. The problem of course was finding a movie theater. After driving around in circles we took a shot and ended up at the Fashion Square theaters. Locating them wasn't exactly easy because it was inside the mall---it didn't seem obvious if the mall was still open or where inside the mall it was. But we got inside and saw the show. Tobey Maguire ... mmmm ...
 Scottsdale Rd. at night. |
Happy Fourth of July! I hope you had a great one while we are out here sweating bullets...
Had lunch with Chuck, a friend from the Bay Area, and then ended up at his new home. (Did I mention home prices in Phoenix are 1/3 the price of the Bay Area? Argh!) We spent a lazy afternoon just eating and talking. Somehow I wound up snuggling on his couch and virtually falling asleep. (My mark of an excellent couch is if I can fall backwards into it from a standing position and feel like going to sleep. It passed the test quite nicely, hehehe...)
Chuck is an interesting one and you probably deserve some background here. I met Chuck ages ago probably '99 even before I was really doing part-time. How I met Chuck isn't so important as who he was at the time. He was a she. But he is also an MTF, or maybe an MTFTM? (Huh?) No, really, it makes sense! Chuck had transitioned from male to female and when I met him he was living as a woman post-op---a fellow "Meltzer graduate." We became friends and she had moved out of the Bay Area to Arizona. Due to a number of rather unfortunate circumstances she felt it necessary to detransition back to male. So it was indeed quite a shock when I met up with Chuck this time to see him in male mode for the first time.
I guess why I mention this is because I don't consider Chuck to be a failure case at all. No, I thought she made a rather successful transition from male to female. And the life seemed to work for her. When I got that fateful phone call maybe a month ago that she was detransitioning it didn't hit me hard, but it did make me pause and think. Sometimes things don't go as planned and you end up having to reassess your position in the world. GID is funny like that because you may get stuck in a no-win situation.
Back in the Phoenix downtown area Kara and I went about trying to figure out where the fireworks displays were going to be. After all, it is the Fourth of July and what would it be without pyrotechnics? The papers said the displays would go on somewhere closer to 9:00p. The trouble here was that we needed a place to kill time. We tried this mall on the advice of a girl at Boston Market---bad idea. Half of the stores at this rundown mall were out of business and nothing was open past 6:00p. Not even the restrooms! We heaved a mighty sigh, but then I remembered this place not far away: Arizona Center.
Somewhere near the downtown area and 3rd Street is a small mall with a movie theater, a bunch of hip shops, and eateries. There was no guesswork this time and we made a beeline right for the restaurants. We settled on Uno's but didn't have pizza. Our entrées arrived and I sat stuffing my face with the mass of a 1/3 lb. cooked cow while Kara looked on in amazement. She couldn't believe that lil' ol' me could take down that much meat in one sitting. (Uh, no dirty thoughts there, k?) And I finished of this, my last meal, with a dill pickle. Yay.
In between bites we talked, but I also received a phone call. In the course of talking to this person I think I had said "I think I want to do this [surgery]." Kara perked up and softly questionned "... you think you want to do this or you know you want to do this?" I didn't get a chance to answer her until after I had finished with the call but I gave her one of my typical long-winded answers.
I said something along the lines of I can't know for sure that I want to go forward with SRS. My reason is that there are so many factors playing into how I feel and so I always try to leave myself the possibility that I might have misjudged something. I know I have a problem with GID and I also know that I seem to be happier in Girl Mode. But I've had pretty limited experiences as a girl now and so it's hard for me to say with absolute certainty that I know SRS is the answer.
Actually, anyone that knows me knows I think SRS isn't really a great solution to GID. But what are my choices? I see three:
- Revert back to Guy Mode.
- Stay full-time in non-op mode.
- Go forward with SRS.
What I hope SRS will do is at least make my body more congruous. So long as I want to stay in Girl Mode (which looks like an indefinite matter) I don't want a non-op body. I feel trapped in a state of limbo and I want out. I'm tired of being in-between. And thus I make a decision.
Having SRS does not imply that I will be happy afterwards. No, my happiness will be determined by the things I do in the future. Rather, SRS is about opportunities. I want the opportunity to be free of my male genetalia, to have sex with a man, and to appear normal female. This sounds like it's about sex or about body image, and in a way it is. But that's not all. The implications of being undetectably female mean I have a shot at a normal life. And that, in the end, is what I really desire. (Note: again, I don't hate my penis but it just doesn't suit my lifestyle.)
If I thought that SRS would definitely kill me or that I wouldn't have a chance at a normal relationship or I couldn't completely assimilate back into society, then I would have cause for concern. But I guess I've been fortunate. The body I was given only seems to need some minor tweaking to seem female to most people out there. And what carries me the rest of the way is my attitude and drive to be normal. (OK, I'm still a nerd, but that still is considered par for some women.) Because I have this opportunity and because I have the desire to become physically complete I believe that SRS is the right choice for me at this time.
 Fireworks near downtown Phoenix. |
Getting to the fireworks wasn't easy. We drove around the blocks dodging people who wanted $5, $7, $10 for parking until we got to a street that seemed to be open. Putting the car in park we began to understand why it was probably free---it was a 20 minute walk to the party grounds. It was already a hike to the gates of this park but then inside it you joined this mass of people pushing past Indian fry bread stands and beer tents to get to the grassy knolls that were bristling with people. Coolers, beach towels, and lawn chairs were everywhere! Kara and I found this little semi-dry spot somewhere between the two stages where we could sit. And from there we watched the night sky illuminate and crackle...
Monday, 2004.07.05:
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Mental Note: copy bowel prep instructions instead of having to open that big packet every single time to get the timing down!
I just took the Arnica Montana stuff. I got the Boiron pellet dispenser version. The little built-in dispenser is pretty cool but hard to turn. (Every rotation of the cap drops out 1 pellet.) Dissolve 5 pellets 3 times a day...
We're off to see the Wiza---err...Dr. Meltzer in about 6 minutes or so, around 8:30a. From our hotel I'm hoping it'll be less than 30 minutes away. I've been there before several times and so has Kara, so it shouldn't be too hard to get there.
Visiting Dr. Meltzer's office brings back deja vu. It looks just like I remember it. Same soft lighting, magazines sprawled about a center table, and an odd tea service set curiously in the far corner.
The staff welcomed me in and handed me a bit of paperwork to complete. I had been checking with them periodically in the past few weeks to ensure everything was in order so I was a bit puzzled I'd have anything else to fill out. But I guess it's standard procedure to see if any of the medication or health status has changed. I handed them back the sheets and I was taken back into a private room---the same one I had been in before except that now I was the one in the examining chair.
I got the once-over by Dr. Meltzer and he confirmed it doesn't look like he'd be requiring a graft. Plus not being circumcised means I might have a little more skin he can use. (Cross my fingers!) It all went by pretty quick since all my questions before were answered the last time I had seen him. His staff handed me a robe, some bowel prep, and sent me on my way.
Since it was my plan to listen and write music on this trip I had brought along some headphones. The trouble is that while I was using them last night I noticed there was a severe lack of bass and midrange. I thought this funny because the phones usually do. So, we made a trip out to a music store. It's so dangerous to take me into a store with keyboards because I will stand there for hours playing them. I had to literally remind myself I was there to buy headphones. Eventually I settled on a Sony one (because it sounded and felt better than the Sennheiser) but it's a toss-up if I'll keep it. $100 for headphones makes my wallet ache.
The funny part of this was that the outside temperatures were already rising to the point that if we left the bowel prep stuff in the car for even 10 minutes I'm sure the suppository would have melted---Dr. Meltzer cautioned us against leaving it outside refrigeration. Not seeing any other good way to protect it from heat I had to take it in with me to the store. And because of store policy about bags they ended up having to hold my things at the front counter. Yeah, a little purple bag with a box clearly reading: LIQUID LO-SO PREP Bowel Cleansing System.
 Yummy chicken katsu sauce... |
Kara must like taunting me. There she was eating her yummy chicken katsu and gyoza across from me while I cradled this tiny bowl of plain miso soup broth. Grr! I hate liquid diets. It's so sad that the arnica montana actually tastes good.
Drinking water sucks.
Drinking water sucks.
The Greenbaum Surgery Center was a stone's throw away from the restaurant. Since Kara knew of someone from the message boards who was having their SRS during this time we decided to drop by.
This is a special facility which is dedicated for outpatient care where the patients might be staying for only 1 night. (I was informed that Dr. Meltzer's patients get to stay 9 nights because we are a "private pay" situation.) It is a 2-story brick and concrete building with large windows and a modern feel. It's not some dirty worn hospital ward, no. This is a new state-of-the-art facility where 10 surgery areas are located on the ground floor and the second floor has the patient suites. Each suite is a private suite equipped with its own restroom, shower, closet, WebTV, and at least 1 convertible chair that unfolds into a simple bed. Plus the on-site kitchen serves up things like a southwestern chicken salad, breakfast burritos, fresh fruit entrees, yogurt parfaits, and meatloaf. It's almost like a resort.
When we got there we were told she was being "taught a trick". Apparently they were just removing her packing and her first dilation was right then. We took the opportunity to chat with the staff. I figured it was a good time to introduce ourselves because we'd be working with them in the coming days when I'm holed up here. They were definitely nice more laid back.
The word came that we could go see Elisa. We made our way to the her "princess suite"---one of the larger corner rooms. She was in her robe and pretty good spirits considering she was Day 6 after her vaginoplasty. She immediately recognized Kara having just seen her a couple months back. Me, she didn't know because this was the first time I had bet her.
We talked and lounged around with her, even playing a little cards. Her mom came in later. (It looked like the heat really got to her as she was breathing pretty hard.) About the time dinner bells rang we exchanged our goodbyes and took our leave...
Drinking water sucks.
Drinking water sucks.
Finally! We located a gift for the nurses. I had heard that these people work pretty hard for all of the patients so it's nice to give a little something to make their lives easier. Some people have brought them food or candles. I wanted something that was easily sharable by all the staff so there were a bunch of soap samplers in a gift package at a Crabtree and Evelyn store.
Somewhere during this shopping expedition I had to take down the dreaded magnesium citrate. I had witnessed someone trying to down this 10 oz. bottle of tart liquid before and I wasn't looking forward to my turn. But you know, when you're hungry even this tastes pretty good. I took a few sips, shrugged, and then proceeded to down the whole thing. Think of it as Sprite with a whole lot of lemon juice added. I saw Kara eyeing the bottle so I stopped just short of the last drop and let her have a couple sips. Even she agreed it wasn't quite as bad as other people had thought.
Drinking water sucks.
Drinking water sucks.
As if forcing yourself to drink that much water wasn't enough punishment, the bowel prep package tells you to use a suppository. Dr. Meltzer's office provided a little sample of Surgilube to ease it in. So I went over to the refrigerator and took out the little foil bullet that I put there earlier.
Just a little of the clear gel on the end ... lay on my side ... raise thigh ... find it ... insert ... and---EW!!!
And I thought that was the epitome of "gross". The suppository disappeared up and in, never to be seen again.
Right on time I popped open the 4 biscodyl tablets and downed them with a half bottle of water. Man I can't wait until this is over. Oh. Uh. Uh...
Rumble...
Claire called to see how I was holding up at this point. In the middle of the call I stopped and said, "uh, I think you're going to have to talk to Kara because, uh, I gotta go ... in multiple senses of the word..."
Rumble rumble...
Uh. Ooo... Uh... EEK!
OK. The past 20 minutes are really the epitome of grossness. As my Canadian cousins would say: grody to the max! It wasn't the fact that had just been glued to the seat as I punished the bowl with the past few days' food, no, it was the smell. I can't even find the words to describe the putrid, rank, foul stench...
Kara and I sat watching Elisa's "The Office" DVDs because we had nothing else really to do. It's a sort of British comedy mockumentary of an office run by the biggest dolt of a manager. The first episode was pretty horrible but the second one was much more amusing.
Rumble rumble...
Oh no ... Round 2?!!!
I set my cellular's extended absence greeting and then turned it off. As I lay in bed I happened to mention to Kara I wish I had something to hold. She gave me a wry smile then disappeared around the wall. "Kara, what are you ...? Oh...!" She produced the plushiest, yellowest frog I have ever seen and gave it to me. Aw... I wrapped myself around its softness as she dimmed the lights. Exhausted, hungry, scared, I slipped off into slumber...
It's good to have Kara here. In spite of my making fun of her Kara-isms (doing "Kara-catures") and driving her batty with my odd thoughts, she's stuck by. Thanks, K.
Tuesday, 2004.07.06:
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New Vagina Day. The Big Dig. SRS Day.
I woke up and got my last shower. As I let the warm water rush over my body I glanced down and realized this would be the last time it felt like this. In just a few hours I'll be forever changed, never to return to Boy Mode ever again...
I'm not sad, nor am I really excited. I just want to get this over with now and move on. I know the risks, I've thought it through, and I like the life I'm building. And I can turn back now but I can't really turn back---there's nothing left for me back in my old life. It disappeared a year ago. I can only be strong and keep pressing forward. I can do this. I will do this. I will succeed...
I dried myself, removed my earrings, and packed my things. Everything seemed to barely fit and there were a number of additional bags. Supplies, drinks, gifts received, gifts to give. In between all of this I found myself scribbling random thoughts onto a pad of paper I had in my pack.
... the better you do transition the less you get rewardedWhat an amazing journey this is. So many of us sacrificing so much for desire.
...the only ppl that reward you are TGs and allies?
...all that hard work and $$$ ... just to lead a normal life? Seems like an unattractive proposition. "Put yourself into debt just to get back to normal?"
... surgeries, therapy, etc. get you most of the way and still we only approximate femininity?
... => have a goal besides transition and focus on that to pull you through
Sitting in the waiting room I fill out the forms the receptionist has given me. I take out my driver's license and health insurance cards from my purse. Kara waits by all of our bags. I return the forms to one of the staff and we're ready to go. Kara notes that my room may not be ready so we gather up all the bags and take them back to the car. After this I turn to the glass entrance and walk back inside.
As I'm striding through the doors and I see a blonde-haired woman in blue scrubs holding a clipboard calling out to the waiting room: "Amber Chan? Amber Chan? Ambe---oh?" I smile as we make eye contact. She is giving me a strange look. "Amber?" I say yes and we slowly start making our way back to the pre-surgery area. She looks back at me over her right shoulder and asks, "Your birthday?" I tell her. "Social security number?" I spell out the digits. We walk through the access doors.
We stop at a small almost-closet where she looks like she's about to hand me a bowl. Then she stops, grabs a cup, then she leads me to the almost-closet next to it. "Urine sample. When you're done go to Room #1," she says while pointing across to a bank of three rooms. I take the cup in hand and the door closes behind me. I finish my business and place the cup in the recepticle in the wall.
I walk to Room #1 and sit next to the desk. The blonde-haired woman returns and takes a seat on the chair in front of me. She's peering over forms and is still looking a bit puzzled. "When was your last period?" Now I'm the one that stops and give her the confused look. I mean, she's holding the forms in front of her clearly stating that I'm getting a vagina installed today. "Um ... I'm having vaginoplasty so ..." She looks up then a great sigh of relief seemed to come over her. "Oh! Well, in that case, that takes care of ... Well I thought for a minute you were a friend of Amber's ... I mean usually I can tell when people are having 'the surgery' ... Oh, I'm impressed ..." And the pace immediately picks up in her writing as she blazes through the rest of the forms skipping other female-related questions.
I guess that's pretty flattering. She leaves the room to go talk to someone else and I'm alone with my thoughts. Wow, she didn't believe it was me? And here I am all grungy, no bra, nervous as all heck. She must have seen so many of us come through already. And still she was impressed? Then a feeling comes over me that just makes me smile. Here I am just being me. No pretense, no show. Just me. And she believes that I'm a girl. It is a kind of affirmation that I am who I am and nothing is going to change that. I know then that there is only one direction that I can go: I must complete this surgery.
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Anyways, we go through a few more pieces of paperwork, a pill, a shot, and then I am in my open-back gown. I'm led to a gurney (#12, I think) and I hop on. Another nurse takes my blood sample and then looks at the IV tubing. She reads over my chart and says, "oh, you're one of Meltzer's patients, I guess you'll need more tubing." When she returns she's got an extension of IV line and then starts the IV into my left wrist. Soon Kara walks in through the far door and as she approaches the gurney I give her a little smile. She asks me if I'm nervous and instead I calmly say, "no." I have this feeling of confidence, positive attitude, and an eagerness to get started.
It's about 11:40a when Dr. Meltzer approaches us in his scrubs. He has just completed his first surgery of the morning. He asks me if I have any final questions. I smile, "no, I'm in your capable hands now." He says he's going to go get lunch and we should be underway about 12:15p.
The anesthesiologist comes by and he introduces himself. He asks me about previous surgeries and sedations. I note that my "enlarged turbinates" might make nasal breathing impossible and he says that they'll use a mask in that case. Then he's gone.
The clock on the far wall away from me ticks away the minutes and finally another nurse approaches. She says she's from Dr. Meltzer's office and she'll also be with me through surgery. I wave goodbye to Kara as the gurney is wheeled out and down the hall. We make a couple of turns, passing a bulletin board, a large counter, and then there are the double doors. I can see a number of people already inside in scrubs and to my left an operating table with two large surgical lamps perched above. The nurse gives the gurney a 180-degree turn and stops right at the side of the operating room table.
On my own power I transfer myself to the operating room table. As I'm sort of suspended in mid-air doing a crab walk I catch the eyes of a doctor who is helping me position my feet. She must be 30 or younger, short, and Asian. I wonder what she's thinking as my body is settling onto the operating room table---can she see herself in my place? Then my body is down on the padding, head in a comfortable rest, and my right leg in a stirrup. I glance up and to the left and my anesthesiologist is back again. I feel something warm flowing into the IV, up my left arm, to my neck. I even said that out loud. Then my body begins feeling weightless, floating, drifting, then the soft veil of blackness envelopes me...
...
 Time to meet destiny. |
Time for the op.
But there's a lot more to it
than getting "the chop".
It's more like a milestone complete,
A reason to cheer,
A new freedom found,
A breath of fresh air.
It's yet another stage in your journey
As your future unfolds
Enjoy your life-between-dilations
(or so I am told)
So best wishes to you,
Keep your positive mood.
You'll be up in no time.
See you soon.
--- Words I once put in a bon-voyage card...
...
I'm still out cold but in the recovery room now. Dr. Meltzer has actually walked out to the waiting room and talked to Kara to let her know I made it through, everything was normal, and had minimal blood loss. For a companion account of the operation please see Kara's journal (Main Site).
I feel a dull ache and the next thing I know I can't breathe. I cough and gasp as I open my eyes. I can't see straight---apparently I have bad double vision. I realize there is a translucent mask over my mouth and nose ringed with a beige rubber border. I know that it must be delivering oxygen though I can't tell for sure. I try to breathe again but it's hard. Somewhere in the distance I can begin to make out a couple nurses who say, "it's over, Amber, the operation went well. You're in the recovery room."
I think I try to smile but breathing is hard. My throat is completely parched and my tongue is stiff. I then try to speak but all that comes out is this grating croak. I hear Kara's voice somewhere. I try to look back at the nurses and do the only thing I can do: American Sign Language. I try fingerspelling: M-I-S-T. I want mist in the oxygen mask. I hear a babble of voices, something about them thinking I'm deaf. Then one of the nurses (who I had talked to the day before) pipes up, "no, I don't think she's deaf. She was just up here yesterday talking...!" She turns to me directly and then asks, "would you like something to write with?" I eke out a nod.
"throat very dry. icky stuff. do you have mist?" I scribble. They say no. I write again, "intubation sucks... got anything to take away the dry feeling?" Next thing I know they have a cup full of ice chips at the ready and are asking if I want some. To that I scribble, "yup!" I feel the ice dissolve in my mouth and slide down my throat. A few more chips later and I can begin to move, swallow, and speak. I lick my lips and find they are completely encrusted with something icky as well as the back of my front teeth---I still don't know what that goop was.
A long conversation ensues with me asking them how long the surgery was, what time it is, about me feeling nauseous, what their names are, something about Buchart Gardens in Canada, about the high tea they do. (Kara told me later that she asked if there was anything I needed from her and I had sarcastically told her to go rob a bank and give me the money.) The last thing that happens in the recovery room is me asking them to save the notes I was scribbling.
It's time to wheel me up to my room and so I'm undocked from the bay I was in and we're making a series of rapid turns. We enter the elevator and then we're on the second level. My room awaits and my bed/gurney stops. My memory is really fuzzy at this point. All I want to do is sleep and people still feeding me ice chips. I think I fall asleep while the monitors beep...
I feel someone waking me up. She's a different Asian nurse than I had seen before and she's talking very fast. She's got me hooked up to the monitors and is running tests. She's leaning into my face and then pulling over the morphine self-administration clicker. She tells me this is the clicker to get medicine, there is the emergency call button, here's the buttons to reposition the bed, etc. etc. etc. All I want to do is sleep and here she is barking at me.
Next thing I know she's holding my "incentive spirometer" in front of me and asks me to breathe into it. I try and then I smell/taste this wicked gas floating up into my lungs. I cough it out. She tells me to do it again. I try again. Then there are babbling voices all around me. I slow down my breathing, a monitor goes beeeeeeeeeeep! and I hear someone say "eighty percent [oxygen]! Breathe!" I weakly take a deep breath and the loud beeping goes away. ("She's at 92 now!") I'm vaguely aware that there is a white clip stuck on my left index finger that seems like it's falling off. I straighten it back on and go back to my shallow breathing.
Another beeeeeep! goes off and I remember I have to take a deep breath this time. As I do that I feel a weird sickness grip my throat and then I'm thrown into spasms. It's a good thing I have nothing to throw up because my body convulses about five times trying to heave. I can't breathe anymore, my throat is stuck in a rigid position, and my hands are scrambling about trying to find the nurse call button. The spasms stop as quickly as they started.
I manage to say that I'm feeling sick from the medication. The nurse walks out and comes back with some anti-nausea medication. I see her drawing out liquid into a syringe and a wave of fear grips me. I ask her if she's going to inject that into me and I brace for the prick. She says "no" and proceeds to inject the needle into the IV line instead. I'm feeling better and I fall back asleep...
It's the middle of the night, the overhead light is on, and Kara is here in her red jammies. She's staying the night to watch over me---bless her heart. She hears me stir and so she gets up herself from the convertible chair/bed near the window. Instead of a greeting like "hi, how are you?" she picks up the incentive spirometer and hands it to me. She tells me to breathe into it and so I do. I give it another try. She commands me to stop using it because she thought it made me sick last time. I tell her no it was the anesthesia, not the breathing that made me sick. And then I give the spirometer a final blow.
I'm groggy and I realize I'm completely tethered to the bed. I have a catheter in my belly, two big drainage bags, a tube running from the catheter off to the right of the bed, a white thingy on my left index finger, and an IV trailing up off my left shoulder to somewhere behind me. I squirm a bit to try to find a better sitting position when I realize that my groin feels like it has a watermelon on it. I am too tired to do anything else so I fall back asleep...
Wednesday, 2004.07.07:
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In the middle of slumber I felt someone arouse me. It was one of the nurses making sure I was making it through the night OK. She checked my drains, looked at my foley bag (that's holding the urine from the catheter), and asked me how my pain levels were. I thought about it and realized I wasn't in pain much at all. I told her I was doing alright but the pain medication was making me a little nauseous. She said I might be removed from the meds around 6:30a if I wanted.
Somewhere to my left Kara was still sleeping soundly. I'm really grateful she stayed the night...
My throat felt like someone had taken a wire hanger and scraped it all the way from my tonsils to my trachea. I rolled my tongue around a little and felt the tenderness that was probably from the tube being shoved down my windpipe. Aside from that I was in pretty good shape.
I know this isn't exactly the most pleasant topic but I did manage to pass gas a few times. I remembered what people had to say about pain medication causing constipation and so I was grateful that my digestive system was able to pass things through.
Speaking of which the nurse returned and disconnected the pain pump. She took a look at me and said the arnica montana seemed to be helping since I didn't have much post-surgery bruising. (But of course my abdomen and groin are swollen like someone stuffed a water balloon down there.
And speaking of the groin area, when the nurse had come in to look me over she had pulled back my stretch underwear. The instant she moved some of the gauze that was held in there I felt this electrical shock soar through my body. I tensed and winced for a second. Obviously something was awake down there...
My therapist gave me a call to see how I was doing. My voice seemed to finally start working again so we had a brief but jovial chat. I told her I got the little bear that she had sent.
In other news it has been really hard to get any sort of sleep around here. It seems like the constant interruptions are just part of the normal routine. Someone is always dropping by to dole out pills, take vitals, check the drainage bags, etc. It's a wonder the patients get any rest!
But all the care is a Good Thing overall. The staff has been very attentive and the quality of food has been great. I've been trying to stick to liquids and soft foods so far to make sure I won't have any problems with constipation. Plus there's so much gas in my system that I know it'll take days to get out---soft foods will make that effort easier.
 The view from the bed looking over the movable tray. |
Dr. Meltzer stopped by to see how things were doing and thought I was doing quite well. Then he pulls back my stertch underwear and moves something. I'm instantly hit with another bolt of pain. He might have seen me cringe because he then noted I can probably expect an oversensitive clitoris because I wasn't circumsized. Well, that little tidbit of information probably explains why I jumped every time someone moved the gauze. He showed me a trick of covering it with a little Bacitracin to make a barrier.
I did mention another problem, though, that when I coughed it felt like something went "pop". He said that was probably normal and it was the abdominal sutures stretching out then snapping back into place. (There are these two divots just below my navel where those sutures are anchored.) Before leaving he did say that because those are self-dissolving sutures there will come a time when one or both will simply "pop" in the next three weeks or so.
Another of Dr. Meltzer's staff stopped by to look in on me.
I think it's kind of funny how the TV commercials reflect the popular themes in this valley: attorneys, retirement homes, medical products, and funerals. Obviously they have a certain target market...
At last! I'm free from the IV! A PCT came by and unplugged me from the machine and turned it off. Unfortunately she still left the IV stem in my left wrist. She said that they'll probably remove it later tonight or tomorrow---it's just left in there in case. I still feel like a monster with all the drainage bags and this Borg-like apparatus stuck to my wrist, but I'm glad to have one thing less to deal with. Now if I can only fight the boredom of being stuck on strict bed-rest today.
A friend of a friend stopped by---I had no idea who she was. Apparently she was here visiting other patients currently in the hospital. Weird.
Bzzzzzzt! Aiii! That clit is sensitive! At least it's good to know that all the nerves are still connected. Actually, I'm surprised it's responding already.
Thursday, 2004.07.08:
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One of the PCTs just came by and emptied my foley bag. I guess I must have been drinking a lot because she made two trips to empty the bag. Then again, peeing a lot is a good because it helps flush out the system. I was always told that "peeing pale" is a sign of health.
I don't think it has quite hit me what has just happened. I mean, I'm in a hospital. I'm healing. I've just had SRS. And I've just transgressed gender lines---one of society's most sacred divisions. Kara probably thinks I should have all sorts of deep emotions running through my head. To me, it doesn't feel that way. I guess I'm still in shock.
It's so surreal I don't think the implications of the surgery have hit me yet. I am female through and through so long as I choose to believe in myself. And as time goes on it will become increasingly hard to differentiate me from all the GGs out there. Before SRS I blended into a crowd of girls pretty well---unless you know what to look for. But I could be stripped down and all would see the evidence that I have male genes. Now all that remains is the knowledge that I was once living a different life.
This isn't a game to try to fool people. It isn't an attempt to gain validation like the amazement of the nurse who checked me in to SRS at 10:15a. No, this is me just trying to be me. I have always felt different from the rest of the boys but couldn't explain it. This doesn't mean that I am "cut out" to be one of the girls however---pun intended. Rather I feel that between the two gender camps I would rather belong to the women's one. I just want to live the truest "me" that I can and whatever that requires I will do.
My life really is about customization. I always felt most things in the world never fit me right out-of-the-box and so I customized my environment to work with me better. I have filing systems, clothes organization order, and a customized WinXP desktop. My body is no different. I didn't feel it represented me nor did it work the way I wanted it, so I did the ultimate in customization: body modification. And here we are 6 years later from those first days in May 1998 when I first began to learn about how I could make my body fit me.
Does this mean things are perfect? Hardly. It just means that I have a chance to go about doing other things in life. Like I said earlier SRS is more about opportunities for success than anything else. Now a whole world of opportunities awaits as I begin life in earnest as a girl, unrestricted. And so I finally find myself dealing with the one emotion I can truly sense: fear.
I will kid you not, I am scared. I have nothing to hold me back except myself. The challenge is not longer appearing authentically female to everyone---we all know I can do that. Now it's finding out how to use this new lease on life to fulfill the rest of my dreams. I have been granted a permanent leave of absence from the "transgender community".
It's a strange feeling being untethered. I liken it to my first days away at college. As soon as I stopped trying to hang on to my high school memories I found a whole new world out there. I had to adjust to a completely new social structure in a place where I had few friends. I forced myself to try to fit in, to find friends, and to set goals. This graduation from transition is no different. I am moving on and it's tough to admit I need to leave the kind of mindset I have clung to these past 6 years---one of hiding and secrecy. No, I need to face the future head on, strong, unabashed.
I can feel the torn and peeling skin in my throat. Oh, I knew this would happen! I clearly still remember those days recovering from my trach shave where I was gagging because my throat was so sensitive. I really hope we don't have a repeat episode now. At least I have in my arsenal a whole slew of diet drinks---diet sodas do wonders to soothe my throat.
 The gadget they put into your wrist. (It's a lot more comfortable than it looks.) |
Today was also my liberation from bed rest. The nurse pulled back my covers and removed the compression leggings. We swung my legs out and over the side of the lowered bed so that the soles of my feet were planted on the carpet. "You're legs are going to be your strongest muscles right now," she said calmly. We shifted my weight forward. As my center of gravity passed over my ankles I gave a little push and I was standing free of the bed.
I placed an array of fingers on the wall beside me to steady myself and I teetered a little as I took my first few steps following her out of my room. The large doubledoor was already held back in place by a little washcloth so the hallway stretched out in both directions in front of me. The nurse proceeded to take a few steps forward and beckoned me out. I straightened my posture, feeling for the first time the awesome tightness that gripped my abdomen and groin area.
As we stepped into the hallway I was immediately confused: wait, there's a wall in front of me, closed doors to the right, and another hallway to my left ... where the heck am I?! It felt like I was in a maze with no exit. But my questions were soon answered as we proceeded left down the hall, then immediately to the right. It became clear that my room was actually one of the ones that was in a tiny walled-off area almost like an appendix. For all the times I had been to Greenbaum I thought the entire floor was a ring configuration where all the rooms were on the outside. I had forgotten that rooms #1 and #2 were the exception and were situation around a tiny nook just around from the nurses' station.
I looked back and there was my room door open and a little placard saying "Room #2" on it. Ah. We continued to walk down the hallway and I saw out the large windows around the waiting room for the first time. I could feel the heat and the intensity of the Scottsdale sun pushing through the glass. It made my already weak legs feel weaker. The nurse commented that I should get up and walk like this as much as I could, remembering to empty my bladder within every couple of hours. I nodded and we waddled back to my room.
Wow. It is so strange to see a world beyond the four walls that I was confined to yesterday on my bed rest. I savored my first taste of true freedom...
(Oh yeah, and I was told I can finally take a shower. Yay!)
I felt strength within me and so I decided to venture out again. So what better than to pay a surprise visit to the girl Kara and I had seen before in the "princess suite"?
I was doing this kind of penguin walk from my room, down the corridor to hers. It took a few moments of unsteadiness but I seemed to be able to walk OK. Well, it wasn't so much walking as throwing my weight forward perpetually. A minute later I was knocking on her door just above her "visitors welcome" sign.
"Come in! Wow, you're walking!" Indeed I was. She was still in bed. She motioned me over to the chair that had her donut on it. Ahhh! As she said, the donut is a necessity. We talked for a while before breakfast was to come in. Then I did the waddle back to my room---maybe we should call it the Greenbaum Waddle.
My cellular blinked cheerfully as I turned it on. The voicemail notice popped up saying I had a slew of messages to return. Oh. I listened to all of them then started returning calls. People were in a concerned-but-happy state. Even when I called back we could joke about me having a "playstation" installed. Yes, with "dual shock" controllers. And "force feedback".
Shutting the phone off was probably the smartest thing I have done in the past two days. I really loved the well-wishing from people yesterday but it is also good to have "me time". I didn't know what it would be like going through surgery and then acclimating myself to the hospital environment, so I'm glad I could do it without as many interruptions.
Well, what do you know? Kara walked into my room with our friend from #12 in tow. After a brief chat it seemed we would try to have lunch together before she would be discharged---today was Day 9 for her. We notified the Greenbaum staff to have our lunches redirected to #12.
Back in Suite #12 we all sat together at the small round table near the windows. This was sort of our last chance to visit together before we would be parting ways. It was Kara, #12, her mom, and me. We lazily ate our way through lunch and even posed for some pictures later on. We exchanged hugs before Kara and I slipped out the door back to my room.
I should probably mention that even though I was up and around, I was far from feeling normal. I had this slight lightheaded buzz feeling, the same feeling I get after donating blood. After walking between our rooms I didn't feel winded necessarily, rather I felt mentally exhausted. It's a bit weird, yes.
"It takes a few days for the system to fill up again. People usually don't [have bowel movements before Day 3 or 4], but sometimes they make liars of us," is what one of the nurses told me as I had passed her. Quite honestly, I thought I had felt something weird on Day 1. Well I was about to find out what that weirdness was.
In the privacy of the bathroom I found out that, yes, I did indeed have a little something going on yesterday in the bowel movement department. Gross, I know, but if you ever do a liquid diet like me on Day 1 you might expect it.
The shower, however, was heaven. I am the kind of person that really needs a shower in the morning to function. Showering now was a bit of a different experience. With the stretch underwear off I still felt like I was wearing clothes. That may be due to the two massive strips of tape holding up the catheter and the two drain bags. Ew. It's just gross being swollen and distended and three big tubes coming out of you. Ew. But, I needed that shower so I could happily ignore the hideous things connected to me.
The most annoying thing about the shower was the blood bags. I mean, they were always getting in the way! I didn't like them just dangling there secured by the tape strapped to my abdomen. No, so while bathing I tried raising a leg (like a flamingo) and having the bags rest on my leg while I went about other things. The trouble here is that when the bags are wet with soap and shampoo they keep slipping off. And then they would go dangling again, tugging on that tape. Ugh!
Out of the shower I felt so much better. Also a change of underwear, a new maxi pad, and a clean gown help too. But my image in the mirror? Hideous! OMG, it is one of the ugliest things. I remember thinking to myself: I don't look like a girl or a boy right now. Instead all I see is this purple-colored monstrosity with tubes coming out of its crotch and big white bands of tape across its midsection. And a vagina? It's hidden behind the labia sutured with what looks like black shoe laces criss-crossing each other. You mean I paid $17K for this?! But, yes, I know that in time it'll be worth it---I've seen the post-op photos to prove it.
On a side note I had the opportunity to try relieving myself into the toilet. I found that the catheter tube made it very difficult to pee while sitting down and so ... I stood up. I couldn't believe it! Here I had been sitting down to pee 24/7 for over a year and thought I'd never have to stand again. Bzzzzt! Wrong! So, I just found it highly ironic that I had come back to being forced to pee while standing...
Oh, did I mention the weird sucking feeling you get when replacing the cap in the catheter? Probably not. Well, there is! If you put the plug back into the catheter tube and you don't release the tube really slowly (because you have to pinch it off with one hand) then you get this really uncomfy vacuum feeling that sometimes hurts. I also noticed this same sensation when I connected up to the foley bag after a long time of being plugged.
Seeing how my neighbor was also just fresh from Dr. Meltzer (in fact her SRS was right before mine), I decided to stop over for a visit. It turned out she already had company: a local friend and PFLAG member/coordinator.
Dr. Meltzer was back and doing his rounds. He took a peek and said that the drains would probably be out tomorrow (Friday) and the packing would be removed Monday.
I just got off the phone with guess who? Mom! And what a weird conversation this was. It was her mood that blew me away. I recall that before SRS she used to be very moody and almost resentful that I'd be having the operation. But here we are talking two days after surgery and her voice was all happy-bouncy. Weird.
She asked me how it was, how I was doing, etc. But then she made a couple of comments that were just amazing. She said that she still loves me and that she's trying to understand more about why I did what I did. She seemed to be more open to discuss things whereas in all these previous years she was always steadfast about not talking about my transition.
Her attitude towards disclosure of my surgery seemed to shift from "we will never talk about this to anyone" to "if we happen to have a relative travel down here we might come out to them." Huh? This is my Mom that's saying this?! Oh, and it gets better.
She tells me that she was looking at the bookmarks in her web browser and found Amberspace listed there. (Yeah, I had bookmarked this site on their computer ages ago when I mentioned to them I had a web site.) She proceeds to say that she's actually read quite a bit of this thing! Wow. I don't know what that really means in the end, but it's very cool that she is reading it.
Urination is clear again, yay! I'm a big proponent of drinking enough liquids to make your pee virtually colorless. As some singers would say, "pee pale". The reason why I think this is important is that it is helping to make sure your body is flushing out all the nasty stuff in it.
Friday, 2004.07.09:
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 Flowers in the morning light. |
Another nurse came by to take my blood pressure. It sure is running high. Normally I'm showing about 125/80 but ever since surgery I have been higher. This morning was 136/80.
And yet another nurse stopped in to check me out. After assuring me my heart was in its expected place with her stethescope she looked at the drainage bags under my stretch underwear. She noted that I might get those things out today and maybe even restart HRT if Dr. Meltzer gives the OK.
Somewhere after this I think I went to get a shower. (I can't remember for sure.) But I do remember those same blood bags getting in the way. Had I known the drains would be out in just another hour or so I probably would have waited until after the drain removal to clean up. But, you know me: I need that shower to get going in the morning.
I was thinking about how much better I would feel if the drains were removed. Besides being unsightly they really do get in the way of walking normally. I guess the equivalent feeling would be to take a couple of drinking straws and try holding them in your crotch while walking. I began to imagine slipping into my own clothes for once and maybe getting out of this hospital for a walk. Well, my prayers would soon be answered.
The last nurse came back in and she peeled back my covers. It was time. With my stretch undies removed she pulled out the suture removal kit. Little goosebumps began forming on my skin---would it hurt? I also hate the words "suture removal kit". *shiver* With a little "zip" the kit was open and moments later soon would I.
The nurse moved the scissors down to my bundled groin area and I braced myself for the worst. Clip. Clip. And one drain was free. Sorta. She found her grip on the tube of the first blood bag and she tugged. Nothing happen. She looked quizzically at it, gripped harder, and tugged. "... this should just slide right out ...?" Tug. I was getting worried that something had gone wrong. But she cocked her head sideways and peered closer to the sutures. Clip. (Third time's the charm, right?)
One last time she wrapped her fingers about the red-filled tube and she pulled gently but firmly. Something moved. The tube started pulling out of me like a long Red Vine. I felt this weird slippery suction feeling as the tube worked its way out of my neo-labia. Then there was this "shhhuck!" sound as the end of the drain pulled free. The nurse seemed to heave a sigh of relief as she held up her prize like someone holding a just-caught fish.
A couple more clips with the scissors on some other sutures and then the process was repeated for Bag #2. Shhhhhhhhhuck! And then I was rid of those two annoying bags. (It also had grossed me out how the nurses would empty the collected blood into little clear plastic cups.) Ew! But this was a necessary step.
I was handed a peri bottle. I was told that it would be good for washing down the surgery site. The nurse said warm water plus a dab of the antibacterial soap would do the trick. When she left I went into the bathroom and filled it up. Giving the bottle a solid squeeze made the soothing water spritz out from the perforated cap. That felt sooooo good! Oh, and did I mention I could now shower without the drain bags getting in the way? Awesome!
I stood in front of the mirror in the bathroom and for the first time I looked and saw something vaguely human standing there. No Borg-like tubes (save for the yellow catether) anymore, I could almost see the curves of my own flesh. One of my friends had called yesterday and noted that the first time she had seen her reflection post-op she was in total tears that there was a woman there in front of her. Not for me, no. I just saw something ugly and alien. And I still did after the drains were out.
My thoughts drifted back to another comment someone else had made about their body: they said they looked like a guy with overgrown boobs. I would agree. I mean, I saw my relatively wide shoulders, pancake-like breasts (if you can even call them breasts), almost no curves, and now this big purple swath of bruising throughout my midsection. I just don't see how this is even in the slightest bit feminine!
I meandered over to my neighbor in Room #1 and her drains were now out too. She seemed so relieved to get them out as well. She was beaming.
Somehow we got onto the topic of FFS. My neighbor has a rather large body and she said she had an even larger head. Two visits to Dr. Ousterhout had given her a much more feminine appearance---I can only guess how Cro-Magnon she used to be. She was very happy with his work. Even though my own opinions on his bedside manner waver, I do agree Dr. Ousterhout is one of the best in the business for people in need of a dramatic change.
 Kara snaps one while I'm on the phone. |
I remember when I was in Vegas recently and I was in the girl's loo at this club. Here I was surrounded by some stunningly beautiful 20-somethings as we had to wait in this monstrous line. I had never felt so self-conscious ever as that one night. I kept thinking: they're going to read me, they know I'm not a GG, they can see it in my face and my body... I so had wished I could wipe all these masculine features off of my visage because I felt they would give me away. All because I still see the boy---even if they do not.
Now begins a chapter of something I did not expect. After the shower and everything this morning I was feeling pretty chipper. I thought to myself: I just had one of the more invasive surgeries ... why am I so energetic? Here I was not even 72 hours post-operative and I was eating solid food, walking pretty normally, and I didn't really have any pain to speak of either. Very strange. I had heard so many horror stories about it. Well I wasn't one to argue with my body and if it felt good enough then I figured what the hey.
I tried putting on some of my regular clothes. The skirt(s) were way too tight to get over my bulging abdomen/groin area, but oddly my shorts did fit with a little effort! So I found a top that was sorta suitable and I was actually presentable to the world it seemed. But I really needed to find something that would accomodate my new "dimensions" if I was going to be this swollen for a while. (As Jen says: "no matter how swollen you think you will be, you'll be more!") Then I turned to Kara and asked her if she'd like to go to a mall. (A mall?!) Yes, a mall.
So I told the nurses I was going out and the two of us left in Kara's rental. We headed up the street to the Fashion Square Mall. As we stepped out of the car in the lot I could feel the sun trying to sap my energy away from me, but that wasn't going to deter me. I was feeling good and I would brave the weather to get to the mall. We ambled our way across the parking lot, past the eateries, and into the controlled environment of the mall.
I knew I was having problems taking stairs or inclines so we used the elevators and escalators almost exclusively. But even still we were able to make it to all the usual haunts ... GAP, Express, J.Crew, Ann Taylor, Nine West ... It was insane. The only thing that really did cause me pain was the realization that I didn't have my GAP "summer savings pass" (which gets you like $15 off).
Now, I'm not invincible by any stretch of the imagination. I did have to stop once in a while and take a quick rest on the soft benches and Kara was really kind to go and fetch some candy to keep our energy levels up. Calling people was also a good way to force oneself to take a break.
We ended up finding a cute dress at Ann Taylor and some other accessories. Yay! I was so happy that I had something that fit me, would keep me cool, and would cover my bruising. Oh, did I mention those bruises? The nice deep purples that extended from my navel to my knees? Yeah, that was ugly. Thank goodness the dress goes down past the knees.
I had the weirdest feeling come over me in that changing room. I realized that this was the first time I had not really bothered to tuck at all. I had been so used to doing it---especially with skirts and dresses---that I was about to try to tuck when I looked down and there wasn't anything to tuck. Granted I was so swollen there was even more of a bulge than when I tucked (ironically). But there was this feeling of almost awe. I almost felt normal in that instant... Then I remembered I still had a catheter. Damn!
Just before leaving for the mall I talked to the nurse (who had removed my drains in the morning) about restarting HRT. I really missed estrogen. Really. She said I needed to check with my endocrinologist and Dr. Meltzer. My endo called back saying that the patches I was on were fine and that when I see her next we might experiment with estradiol cream instead.
Well, the nurse finally came back and said she got the OK for me to restart my medication. What a relief! I did a little happy dance back in my room as I applied the patch.
I heard the strangest thing. It sounded like a woman moaning. I would find out later it wasn't moaning but a chanting ritual being performed by none other than my suite neighbor. Hey, whatever works for you to get the dilator in...
Kara and I needed food badly and I wanted to try something other than hospital food. (Not that the Greenbaum food was bad, no, just that I wanted more variety.) We pulled out the take-out menu for Ra, the Japanese restaurant Kara and I had gone to previously, and called in our order. I figured this was also a perfect opportunity to use my new dress. So off with the t-shirt and shorts and on with the Ann Taylor. Yes! Funny thing, too, that the dress almost makes it seem like I have hips since the midsection is so fitted.
We walked out of Greenbaum and into the searing evening sunlight. (Scottsdale doesn't do Daylight Savings to 6:00p really is more like 5:00p.) It was really only about a block up Scottsdale Road to the restaurant. And food in hand we meandered back and up to the 2nd floor patio in the hospital.
I got a little scare when I started eating our dinner and then I felt something funny. Tingly. Tingly bad. In my throat. I immediately stopped sensing the faint warning signs and I started looking at my meal. Hm, no nuts in it. Maybe peanut oil? Then I looked at Kara's chicken katsu and then at the sauce. Hm. Maybe something with the sauce? Well, whatever it was I was starting to get itchy-sick which is a sign I had probably just ingested a nut product.
Kara asked where my Epi-pen autoinjector was and I said it was back in the room. We both walked back there but didn't really need to get it. We did, however, get the menu out and called up the restaurant. They said there were no nuts in either of the dinners even though my throat was feeling otherwise. We went back to the patio where Kara finished off her dinner---I picked at mine. It seemed that the culprit was probably the sauce that Kara's dinner came with because I was able to get through mine fine.
Besides the potential food poising incident, it was a sort of time for reflection up there on that second floor balcony in the Scottsdale heat.
 The communal surgery journal. |
Another one of Dr. Meltzer's staff came by. She left me her business card and said if I needed anything to let her know. Dr. Meltzer's staff is great.
Oh, Kara also did something very cool. I had forgotten she did this until she wrote it up in her journal/blog: she started a patients/family/friends journal! So, if you're staying at Greenbaum for recovery be sure to ask for the little purple and green book.
Saturday, 2004.07.10:
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Another Greenbaum tech took my vitals this morning. Ugh. Do they ever stop checking you? I haven't really had great sleep because they're always doing something to/for you. Not that I don't appreciate the level of patient attention, but sometimes you just don't want to be prodded and examined...
Sneezes are painful. I was told by someone that when you sneeze it feels like the stuffing is going to fly out of you. Too true...
What was that about being under the ever-watchful eye of the hospital staff? Another nurse came in, looked me over, and gave me my medication...
Oh ho ho! A shower without drains! Yes!!! And a shave! YES!!! And I switched to my light maxis I brought from home. Whoohoo!
Um, really, it's the small things in life that make me happy. Hehehe... I almost felt really human this morning being able to take a proper shower without those drains flopping around. And as soon as I switched to my own maxi pads instead of their "elephant-sized pads" I could really walk normally. I highly encourage you to bring your own light maxis.
I got around to eating breakfast and I had ordered Cream of Wheat. Why? Because I had never tried it before. And now I know I will never try it again. I don't care if there's a smiling guy on the box trying to make this slop look yummy. It has the consistency of puréed boogers.
The Good Doctor (a.k.a. Dr. Meltzer) stopped by and said everything looked A-OK. Even the swelling and bruising. He said that I was having average swelling and that it looked like it was going down pretty good. And as for the bruising that extended down to my knees, well that was just a normal process of my body trying to deal with all the excess blood and fluid trauma to the groin area. He said that it's normal and should be expected if I am on my feet a lot---since gravity pulls the excess blood away from the groin and down the legs.
As a side note it was kinda amusing to see him there in his surgical smocks. You see, he doesn't operate on weekends but the reason he was wearing them is because that was the only clothing he had at the time. He had just stopped by the hospital on his exercise route (yes, exercising in the middle of the day) to check in on us. I remember asking him about the fact it was really hot outside for exercising. His comment was along the lines of: "oh, it's hot alright out there. About 115 degrees on the pavement. But as long as I have my water I'm OK."
 The late morning light breathed life into the flowers. |
Note: If you do happen to leave the hospital definitely check in with the nurse to get your medication. You can carry it with you and take it on schedule.
Returned from being out and about with Kara. She's flying back in a few hours and so this was our last chance to hang out here in Arizona. We had lunch at this tiny little place that was moderately expensive for lunch and quite expensive for dinner---it only listed whole dollars for the dinner entree prices. Then we walked the 5th Street shops for a while.
I'm really glad she flew out here. She's been a great help. I hope she had fun and also got a few of her fears about SRS removed.
The nurse came back in to give me medication including some Premarin tablets. I refused saying that I had gotten the OK to use my patches the day before. She said that regarding hormones that Dr. Meltzer has to do a write-up for my hormones even if I don't use his prescription. I thought the matter was settled yesterday but I guess not.
Remember the nurse who was being mean to me back on the 6th when I got out of surgery and was being asked to use my incentive spirometer? Well she came back for my vitals. Funny, she seemed much nicer and more calm. I think maybe it was because my oxygen levels had been dropping that first night that this nurse was more forceful.
While standing out on the 2nd floor patio in the uber-warm Scottsdale night air (which was like 88 degrees) I got a chance to talk to Mom again. I find it amazing that we're actually able to have a jovial conversation including topics of my transition. Previously all my attempts to discuss it were met with silence from both of my parents. Maybe they're trying to talk now since they realize they can't change the fact I have indeed just had SRS.
She noted that she hasn't told any of the neighbors or our extended family about my transition. That's been status quo for us all along. But the one interesting things she did say was that if any family member came down they might tell them. (HUH?!) I don't know if that's really what she meant but we'll see. It really does suck not to be able to talk with our extended family.
On a final note she left with an interesting statement that was basically "we hope you are safe and will be happy now." Me too.
The night air beckoned and so I yielded to my ambitions. I ditched the hospital gown for some normal-people clothing and stepped out into blistering night air. It amazes me to no end how warm it is this late at night. My guess is that with all the concrete and brick of this expanding suburban sprawl that the night is mostly spent venting the stored heat energy.
Turning northward I walked the 4 or 5 blocks to the Starbucks at Indian School Rd. Along the way I passed up a number of places where young people gathered outside cradling their cocktails under the hissing misters. My thoughts drifted to how they're having fun ... and I'm not. I thought about what it would take to have friends that would like to be doing that late late on a Saturday night.
Frappuccino in hand I began the trek back past those same bustling crowds. I felt a little different though. Somehow less self-conscious. It's hard to describe. Not quite a feeling of being invincible, but of being more true to myself. As if all the people watching me pass by could search me with their eyes and they wouldn't find anything I wanted to hide.
Sunday, 2004.07.11:
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I've been making it a priority to ramp up my digestive system slowly. I have seen people get queasy from hitting their system too hard too fast so I've been following a general plan:
- Day 1: Liquids, small meals, Ensure
- Day 2: Breads, salads
- Day 3: Meats, veggies
- Day 4: Bulky stuff, milk
- Day 5: Normal diet
 Arnica montana pellets. |
Returned from yet another brief walk outside the surgery center. I stopped by the Staples across the street to get a new journal book, and Walgreens to get a newspaper and some chocolate. Mmm... chocolate...
Rather than have the hospital food today I decided to try one of Kara's recommendations: Port of Subs. They slice their own meats and cheeses right there on the spot. It seems to make things taste a little bit more moist and fresh.
One of Dr. Meltzer's dropped by to check up on me. She did offer to find someone to sell me some arnica montana because it was difficult to find in the stores.
Just returned from dinner with a couple of friends who flew out to this area for the weekend. They have their Dr. Meltzer consults tomorrow and they also wanted to say "hi". That's cool. It's also funny that I've seen at least 1 person from my home area in Arizona each day since I got here.
(Oh, and if you want a recommendation on some good New York style [thin crust] pizza try Grimaldi's...)
Monday, 2004.07.12:
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For the first time since surgery I'm beginning to feel pain. It's this dull throb that's coming from "down there". And since everything has been moved around it's really hard to say exactly where it is. My guess is the urethra...
One of the nurses came in to get my vitals. While she was doing that I noticed my wrist tag was pretty beaten up---torn, faded. So I asked them if they could generate a new one.
Bleeding totally sucks. After going to the restroom I noticed blood in the bowl. I told the nurse and she said as long as I wasn't gushing then we're OK. Yuck! Took a shower but afterwards smelled this really weird/sweet stench. And that turned out to be blood dribbling down my leg. Ew! Told the nurse again and so this time she examined me only to find nothing out of the ordinary. So with a shudder I grabbed one of their "elephant maxis" and put that on...
I've had a lot of calls and visitors these past few days. I'm really grateful for everyone's well-wishing. Thanks!!!
This is the first day I really haven't gone out and done anything because we're supposed to get the packing out of me today. Seeing as how that is kinda important (plus I have to dilate 5x today) I figured it would be good to be present at all times. I just didn't think the wait was going to be this long---I assumed it would have happened in the morning.
 The dilation kit. |
I picked up the instructions sheet and read it over. Lots of little details to do. In the end it's not that bad, I know, but up until now I've gotten a free ride pretty much---no personal maintenance required. Now begins the time where I have to start doing work to maintain my body.
Also my fears about the pain and mess of it were beginning to come back to me. I've heard a lot of horror stories and so I was really hoping I wouldn't be among them. It didn't help when one of the nurses mentioned that those people that move around a lot sometimes have more bleeding when the catheter is removed---apparently the urethra has a lot of capillaries and the response to irritation is to bleed.
The nurse who dropped off the white bag returned. And she put down her bags she said it was time to remove the packing and begin the first dilation. But, she said, there was something she wanted to do differently than what she had done with other patients. She just tried this "new" way with my neighbor and now she wanted to know if I'd like to try it. Not like I would know the difference which way was better. So I nodded.
I had a stack of about 5 paper towels; I asked her if that was enough. She just scoffed and then disappeared into the bathroom only to emerge with a whole stack of towels. "We're going to need more than five!" She was right, we would indeed need more.
As I slid onto the bed she drew the blinds closd. Next the lights were turned off and I could feel myself rise as she levetated the bed as high as it would go. Silence and calm fell across the room. The nurse did a few more adjustments and then she peeled back the lid of the suture removal kit.
She took out a pair of scissors. Ducking her head below my swollen mons she began clipping away at the sutures. Pop! I could feel the tension on the labia relax a little. Pop. Pop. She was slow but deliberate with every move, pausing every so often to rub off some suture fragments onto a paper towel. Pop! And I was free.
"Would you like to watch?" she asked. I grasped the big mirror in my left hand and moved it so I could see my now-open labia. It was ugly. Totally. "You're going to feel a tug. As we get to the end of this you may feel it tug a little harder." And then she proceeded to say something which included the phrase "may feel like defecating". Gee, thanks.
The scissors she held were replaced by some mid-sized straight forceps. And she ducked below again, the tip of the forceps finding the end of what looked like a dirty white ribbon. Then she pulled. And pulled. And kept pulling. The paper towel in front of me soon held a pile of winding cotton tape that became more crimson as time went on. Tug! There was this sensation almost like if you had sat on a hot vinyl lawn chair and your bare skin was sticking to it as you tried to stand up. And the smell was like rotten teriyaki beef.
She asked how I was feeling---I was wincing. No I wasn't in pain. It was just one of those very unique sensations. "I ... just ... feel weird." She laughed and said almost everyone says it's "weird". Tug.
With the final tug the end of the yards of packing tape came to an end. The nurse gave a little smile and then swept the spaghetti-like pile off into the trash can next to the bed. "All done!" I was in total shock, slightly disgusted. It took a minute before I could shake off the heebie-jeebees.
I glanced Down There with the mirror and my naked vagina and labia stared right back at me. I didn't know what to really make of it because everything was discolored and distended at the same time. She proceeded to point out the vulva's structures with a newly-gloved hand. The hand moved from the clitoris, to the urethral opening, to the vagina, to the anus. It felt almost like I was watching a cooking show with one of those overhead mirrors.
Then it was time for the examination. She put a few drops of Surgilube on her fingers. "Relax..." she instructed. Even though I didn't have any sensation I could still feel the pressure of her touch. She probed looking for imperfections and checking the sutures. Satisfied, she withdrew. Next came the really fun part.
Out of the white terry cloth she produced the dreaded #1 dilator. Its complete translucency captured some of the faint beams of light peeking through the closed blinds. She lubed up the dilator and then with one smooth motion passed it into the neo-vagina---my neo-vagina. The little blue dots running along the dorsal side of the dilator disappeared into my vagina one by one until only the last one was showing. She was pleased with the depth. "OK, now put your hand here and keep constant pressure."
I held onto the inserted dilator. She instructed me how to hold and move it in "spooning" or "circumferential" motions. This was her new way: instead of explaining things beforehand I was learning through realtime experience. And what an experience it was. We removed the dilator and cleaned it with a paper towel. Ew---it was coated with all sorts of unmentionables.
She picked up the tube of Bacitracin and told me to smear it on the tip. After that we applied a ring of lube just above the Bacitracin line. My fingers were coated with lube now so she said it was time for me to get to know my own vagina. I followed her lead and I was able to feel the inside of it---no, my vagina. In that instant it went from being a "thing" to being "mine".
Talk about another strange feeling. It wasn't sexual or gross. It was just weird. I scanned around with my fingertips and came to only one conclusion: I was amazed at how much it felt like other GGs' vaginas. The same skin feeling, the same narrowing, the same moisture. It was nothing short of awesome.
The nurse handed me the lubed dilator and instructed me to try inserting it. It was very difficult to get past the muscles and it was even strange trying to figure out where to really insert it. But eventually I got it in and it slid in all the way.
As I lay there in wonderment she calmly began explaining the douching schedule. ("Spit and rinse.") Then the conversation drifted to sex topics. I was curious to know what she thought of a few different things and she gave me her honest opinion without reservation. I like that. Not being ashamed of sex or the body parts that play a role in it.
I removed the dilator slowly. As the end of it got close to coming out it generated a feeling almost like someone was trying to fish out a golf ball from my loins. I stayed still in awe. The nurse stepped back and then said her goodbyes. I was alone with myself, a dirty dilator, and the weirdest sensations running through my body.
Long after she left I slowly got up and went to the restroom. I filled the sitz bottle with warm water and a dab of liquid soap. Then while using it I looked down into the toilet bowl to see all the nasty stuff it was washing out. I shuddered again at the sight of it and decided at that point a shower would be the most sensible thing. And then I had my first douche...
In some ways it almost feels like my body is becoming my own rather than being some medical experiement. The swelling and discoloration are still present but things are starting to fall into place. All I have to do is give it time...
I went next door and had one of the most interesting conversations with my neighbor in Suite #1. It's a long story but the gist of it was that she really connected with her feminine spirit through sound therapy, guided imagery, and symbolic totems. The reason why I bring this is up is because it was very non-conventional and yet powerful. In the end she was able to come to accept herself as herself:
"It's not that I feel like a woman. It's just that I feel like me."She had a very deep connection with herself such that she felt everything was in its rightful place after SRS. I, on the other hand, went through surgery in a very clinical manner. Like I mentioned before, I really didn't think of my vagina as "mine" until today. It was just a thing that happened to be put in me.
--- Neighbor #1
One of the topics in our conversation was "feminine aura". I got to thinking a little. I believe that as a child I had a semi-feminine aura. But it was a society based on gender stereotypes that robbed me of it and made me ashamed of it. People categorized me based on what they wanted to see, not how I felt. Now it's my turn to change that categorization to fit how I perceive myself to be.
I think that's a factor in why I used to be a champion of gender equality. I used to believe that for 99% of the tasks out there in the world both men and women could accomplish the same job and that the division of the sexes was somehow an improvised notion.
Then I made an interesting connection: perhaps the reason why I was trying to smash gender barriers was because I felt trapped by them myself. And in trying to advocate equality I was giving myself a way to slip from one gender camp to another...
 Flowers drying. |
Seeing as how I'm leaving in a few days and I had flowers in my room I started to take them out to dry. I couldn't remember exactly how to do it but I remember some vague thing about drying them upside down. So I looked around for a clothesline of some sort---none to be found. Of course, that wasn't going to stop me. Dental floss makes an excellent high-tension line if you're desperate.
So I raised the now-empty IV bag stand, strung floss between
its arms, and then put the flowers I wanted to keep on them.
Yup, that works!My first dilation on my own was so difficult. It felt like my abdomen was an impenetrable wall. I started feeling desperate and depressed that here on my very first night I couldn't do a dilation. And I knew if I didn't then it was very likely the neo-vagina would collapse rapidly. I tried calming myself and relaxing. But nothing would work. I looked heavenward and my inner monologue screamed for mercy.
And then ... the wall of muscles budged just a little. Finally, the dilator slipped through and in. I sighed a great sigh of relief. The deed was done at last.
I was thinking of going out today but seeing as how my entire life is now revolving around dilating I figured I'd just stay in the whole day...
The techs came around and took my vitals again. Twice a day they come and make sure I'm OK. I was really getting annoyed of all these interruptions, but I realized I actually needed to ask them for a favor: I needed a wakeup call. 2:00 in the morning. Ugh. This is going to be a long night ...
Tuesday, 2004.07.13:
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Bee-de-deeep! Bee-de-deeep! Bee-de- *SMACK!* I hate it when I have to set an alarm for these ungodly hours of the morning. On the sides of my bedframe are all these buttons, one of them turns on a soft light overhead behind me. I pushed it and the pitch black of my room was bathed in a soft glow. I wiped a few grains of sand from my eyes as I tried to sit more upright.
2:15 in the morning...
I was just glad this would be the only time I'd wake up to do this.
I unplugged myself from the foley bag (because I've been "jacking in" every time I sleep) and pushed myself out of bed. My abdomen groaned as I bent over slightly.
I really hope the swelling goes down soon.
I stood up slowly feeling gravity working against me. This time, like every time I've stood up, makes me uncomfortable for the first couple of minutes. Because when I've been sleeping I have the bed partially reclined I guess when I stand up and try to straighten my posture out everything is tight. It feels like someone has taken a 5 lbs. weight and strapped it to my stomach. But I walked a little more and that seemed to shake off the tightness.
I opened a drawer near my bed that held extra supplies. Ah, the Chux pad---a plastic-backed paper pad that's almost like a disposable baby changing pad. I took one out and threw it onto my bed.
Turning around, I walked over to the rest of my toiletries: Bacitracin, Surgilube, and the #1 dilator. Oh yeah, and lots of paper towels. Thank goodness the bathroom had a dispenser. I threw all of these onto the bed.
Chux down, a couple of paper towels on top of the pad, lube on the dilator ... relax. It took a while to actually wedge it in, turning side to side slowly. I tried relaxing the muscles doing a reverse-Kegel and that seemed to help. I kept thinking: c'mon ... relax ... you can do it ... come home Mr. Dilator ... come home ... are you too good for your home?! c'mon ... ! Eventually the muscle wall yielded and things went sort smoothly after that.
What is disconcerting is how initially the dilator doesn't slide in to its maximum depth. No it gets in about halfway and then you have to keep applying steady pressure. Eventually the skin yields too and things unfold to their maximum depth. But it's not the most pleasant feeling in the world.
Aiyaaaa... Another tech came in to take my vitals. Considering I think I went to bed near 4:00a this means I'm going to need a nap today. Ugh. I hate not getting sleep.
One of Dr. Meltzer's nurses stopped by. We talked about Kegel exercises, the symphasis pubis getting in the way of insertation, the developmental cycles of boys and girls, and how Premarin cream can actually help the appearance and texture of labia. Yes, apparently if you use the cream along the labia it will help them become softer and pinker. Yay.
Dilation. Yay.
I was so itching to get out of the hospital seeing as how I had spent the entire of yesterday cooped up inside. I thought about what to do this morning but couldn't come up with a good idea. I had remembered a couple nights ago I had walked up to Starbucks and that wasn't too far from the mall. So I figured why not try the mall? My only enemy would be the heat. (Oh, that searing heat...)
Sunglasses on, I waved goodbye to the nursing staff and rode the elevator down. As I approached the automatic doors exiting Greenbaum I could feel the heat. And since it was a weekday the main sliding glass door was operational---on the weekends you have to be buzzed in via a manual door. The glass swooped aside and fingers of heat rippled at my face. Ho boy, this was going to be a long walk...
There's this one Nike commercial called "Shadow Running" where you see a female runner jogging down the streets. She's running under the shade of a building but then she turns a corner only to follow the shadow of an awning. Then as the shadows of the city begin to move she darts in and out of alleys and across streets just to keep staying in the shade. Finally she reaches her destination, panting, in the shade. I sort of felt like that.
I walked in Greenbaum's shadow until there was no more. Then it was a quick power-walk to the next block where there was a little more shade. Then under the misting porch of Ra. Then skirting along the sidewalk in front of the Pink Pony. At stop lights I would stand in the shadow of the crossing signals. At every opportunity I tried to find the shade---I was not going to let the heat beat me.
Finally, some ways up I was following the contour of the buildings and came up to Stetson. Hm. I remembered that the Convention and Visitor's Bureau was somewhere around here. I followed this little line of shade off towards Drinkwater and there under the recess of a large overhead walkway was a sign saying "convention and visitors bureau thattaway". I looked at the words printed on the building itself: Galleria Corporate Office Building. Yes!
The air conditioned enclosure was an oasis in the middle of this blistering concrete and tarmac desert. Once inside you can see the expanse of this massive building tower around you as the center of it is cut out into a large open-air space. A few clusters of comfy chairs dot the floorspace providing tiny meeting areas. Offices ring this expanse and off in the corner is the Convention and Visitors Bureau office.
After regaining my composure I stepped in and found a map of the area. The staff there was pretty nice and very willing to dole out the myriad of brochures they displayed. I only took the map and then left. One more breath of air conditioned air and I was back to "shadow walking".
The curvature of the Galleria building and the sidewalks meant that I would have continuous shade for another block. Oddly, taking this detour allowed me to stay in the shade longer than I had simply walked along Scottsdale Rd. (Between Stetson and Drinkwater along Scottsdale Rd. there is virtually no shade at all.) Barring a few open sections, from there to Fashion Square you can dart in/out of the shade of the trees. Thank goodness.
The ultimate reward here was the coolness of Fashion Square. But I had a mission: keep looking for clothes and see if GNC had arnica montana. It turned out GNC doesn't carry it even though the guy working there said he's gotten a lot of requests for it. (It makes me wonder if all the surgery patients keep asking for it.) Arnica montana is harder to find than you think, so pick some up in your area if you're travelling.
Upon leaving I took a totally different route back. I was going to try to take advantage of that same shady route but the sun had shifted so it was pointless. Instead I just braved the heat and when I got to the 5th Avenue shops it was like, "hey, I might as well stop around here and get a drink." So a while later I had soda in one hand and a bunch of small souvenirs in the other. That was a boon.
Heading back to Greenbaum I glanced at my watch. 1:30p. Nuts. I totally missed lunch. Fortunately Greenbaum is surrounded by plenty of really good places to eat. Oregano's just happened to be right across the street and so to Oregano's I went. Definitely try the Fresh Grilled Italian Sausage sandwich. It's toasted up with onions and hot peppers. Mmm! (But, if you don't get along with hot stuff then you might want to try something else, especially if you're sensitive from surgery.)
Dilation. Yay.
At least Bose Triport headphones and a few episodes of Hack Sign help to pass the time. I was trying to do a longer session since I got a later start this time. I did find out something interesting: you can get away with less lube if you apply small pea-sized drops of it directly to the neo-vagina rather than smother the dilator with it. Much less mess.
 An awesome nighttime spectacle! |
Dilation. Yay.
Tried the #2-taper but couldn't pass it. Then again, I was also watching Last Comic Standing---that really didn't help with the relaxing of any muscles...
Awesome lightning storms began to appear about 10:00p. Apparently this year the monsoon season arrived a little on the early side and what wrath it was bringing. Dust storms, flash flooding, gusty winds, and lightning. The entire Valley was feeling it. At first you could see a few large clouds off in the distance spew out arcs of electricity but then they loomed closer, closer, closer, until they were right on top of us. The moist winds whipped about the surgery center as booming fury wrapped itself around the building.
Wednesday, 2004.07.14:
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Today started off not with a bang (like last night) or a whimper (like immediately after SRS) but with a groan. One of Dr. Meltzer's nurses peeked her head around my privacy curtain and woke me up. I was so groggy and there was the nurse all chipper and ready to go to work. I so did not want to have my catheter removed. Well, no, I mean, I wanted it gone just not at 7-frickin-30 in the morning. (Does anyone get any sleep around here?!) But there she was itching to start...
Half aware of what's going on I feel her pulling back my gown and moving the stretch underwear into a easier-access position. She brought this tiny tool which plugged into a different attachment on the catheter. "I'm going to release the saline bubble," I remember her saying. That was followed by a sucking sensation as she pulled back on the plunger of the tool.
I was still attached to my foley bag and that tugged as she gently removed the big white bands of tape that pinned the catheter tube to my stomach. Then with a long drawn out motion she drew the catheter out. "You'll feel a little burning sensation almost like you need to go pee. In fact, I need you to go pee after I get this out. Remember, urinating is the best dilator for the urethra..." And then I was free of the catheter and tape.
I laid on the bed still for a minute. She asked if there was something wrong. I just told her that everything was OK but it kinda grossed me out so I was going to just lay there for a moment. Then as stealthfully as she came she left.
After a couple minutes I got the courage to get up. I had remembered what Marianne had said the day before: drink lots and lots of liquid and it'll make peeing easier. I waddled around the room looking for what was left and there was this half-drunken can of Diet Coke sitting on my bed tray. I shrugged and then downed the rest of it. Then there was this unopened bottle of water. So I downed about 1/4 of that too. Then I waited.
What happened next was pretty gross too. I went into the bathroom and just tried to pee. I had been told that after the catheter comes out you should just pee wherever you are to prove that you can. The staff can change your bed sheets w/out problem, they can also clean your bathroom, etc. But if I went in the toilet I should not flush it because Dr. Meltzer's staff needed to see evidence that something had happened.
So there I was standing in the bathroom on the tile thinking. Ew, I gotta go somehow. After a tiny bit of effort I noticed 1) I was still standing, 2) there was something running down my leg. It was really gross. But it worked. I figured I needed to get more "evidence" so this time I used the toilet and tried again---yup. It worked.
 A great thing to get. |
One of the things you can request is a Uni-Solve adhesive remover wipe. These are great. Definitely ask for a bunch of these.
My first shower sans catheter. Wow. How liberating.
The nurse that removed the catheter returned. I pointed out the little messes and that was all the evidence she needed. Once again she reminded me: pee often, it helps keep the urethra open. She also happened to mention a couple of new patients were brought in from SRS the day before and might be open to visitors.
Dr. Meltzer stopped by and did his routine look-see. He didn't notice anything out of the unusual. It's good to hear things are OK. I mentioned my test with the #2-taper and he noted that going from the #1 to the #2-taper was always difficult because it is the largest percentage jump in circumference. Oh. Ow.
I'm sure you want to hear more about bodily functions. Apparently the urine stream sounds great. That's the good news. On the other hand it goes just about every direction you can imagine. Gross.
One of Dr. Meltzer's staff came by and we chatted about stuff. She did happen to mention where to get arnica montana---if you have a car. Near Indian School Rd. and Miller (just up about 1/2 a block) there is a shopping center with the Sunflower Market there. Check it out!
Dilation. Yay.
Steve arrived! Yup! We had planned it out so that Kara was here for the first days of my recovery and Steve would be present for the last couple. So after I got a shower in we decided to head out for lunch. (Well, our first stop was to the Sunflower Market to get arnica. By the way, did you know that the Boiron pellet dispensers come in 30 and 200 versions? Get the 200s.)
It's a bit of a ways down but there's the Biltmore Mall out on 24th and Camelback. The reason I suggested this mall was actually because I had seen some sandals at Banana yesterday but they didn't have my size. The assistant said the Biltmore Banana might have it---aha! (Thank goodness Steve decided to get a car.) But as it would turn out these other guys wouldn't have my size either. Drats. Foiled again.
Seeing as how we were stuck out there we decided to try to find a place to eat. We wandered until we found Sam's. At first I was kinda leery about whether or not to try it based on its appearance, but I have to say the food was awesome. And I'm not just talking about the sweet potato chips and southwestern salsa.
The chef there was doing a little bit of an experiment and part of today's experiement was salmon medallions wrapped with bacon served with a side of broccolli and rice. OMG it rocked! The food was plated with 4 hefty-sized medallions flanking a mound of rice in the middle. All that on top of a sort of white-but-not-cream sauce of some sort. Totally yummers. Steve had some run-of-the-mill fajitas instead.
One of the things I'm really grateful for is how I've learned how to sit w/out requiring "the donut". There's a way you can sort of lean to the side that isn't painful and seems to distribute the pressure. Other people have tried crossing one leg under the other horizontally---that works too except if you're wearing a skirt...
Steve dropped me off at the Starbucks up the road (because I wanted a walk) and he took off to the hotel for a nap. I asked the girl at Starbucks what she could do with a light frappuccino and she rattled off all these different flavors. I was like, "I don't know, surprise me." To which she did pleasantly. I left there with a raspberry-mocha frap. Mmm.
Back at Greenbaum I wandered the halls and figured it our new SRS guests would be awake. I went down to one of them and had a nice long chat with her. Wow. She's married too. Real nice girl.
Went over to my next-door roomie in #1 and met one of her friends. We chatted. We talked about dilators and stuff. We said that regarding increasing the size of our dilators we should have "stretch goals".
One of Dr. Meltzer's staff popped in unexpectedly bearing arnica montana and an envelope. I told her that I had just picked some up this afternoon. But the letters were very important---the ones that state I've had my SRS and now I am functionally female. Yay. Now I can get on with changing the rest of my documentation.
Dilation. Yay.
One of the challenges is getting around that symphasis pubis. I was recently told that everyone is different in this department and that bone is anchored by cartilege---it can move. So, over time it is possible it will shift and become easier to dilate...
So Mina calls up. We're chatting about this and that and then she happens to mention that she wants to do karaoke.
Um, if you know me then
you know I'm still very uncomfortable about my voice let alone
singing. I tried talking my way out of it but somehow
she actually convinced me that singing would be good. I can
just see the train wreck that will come of this...Steve finally awoke from his beauty rest and we decided to go out. No sense in him being cooped up in his hotel room. So we ended up back at the mall. (Gee, I'm getting really familiar with that mall.) We ended up seeing King Arthur on one of the little screens. It was OK.
Thursday, 2004.07.15:
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It would seem that they do keep close tabs on you here at Greenbaum. When I got back from the movies the first thing they said was "we have to get your vitals." Yuck.
My dilation schedule is so screwed up. Rather than doing it at specific times I've been sorta doing it whenever I feel like it. On the one hand it's not such a good thing but on the other there is a small advantage: it lets my body rest and when it's ready it will let me know.
I think that has been my general approach to recovery. I've been trying to get back to normal as quickly as possible but I try to pay attention to the warning signs like fatigue, stress, nausea, and pain. The dilations are by no means comfortable and usually afterwards there's a dull throb. I usually have been stopping after the PC muscle begins to hurt. I've also noticed that usually about 3-4 hours after dilations the throbbing at the back of the neo-vagina seems to go away. It just feels like the tissues have settled down and are ready for another go at stretching. I'm not saying that everyone should do it this way, but it seems to be working.
 The plethora of daily medication. |
You would think after having been out all night and doing my "stretching thing" that I would have the sense to go to bed. No, not me. I grabbed my camera and took some photos with the nurses there. And then I started walking around the building just getting exercise. I happened to run into another one of the nurses that was keeping watch at the opposite corner of the building. We ended up talking for like 2 hours! (Yeah, I'm crazy, I know that.) Our conversation could have gone on for the rest of her shift (7:00a) probably, but I was falling asleep and it was obvious I needed rest. I think that nurses on watch lose track of real-world time pretty quick...
Dr. Meltzer came by. I was so groggy when he did, but he was trying to make his rounds before he went into surgery. Apparently whoever was being worked on today was going to keep him occupied for 6 hours. Yes, six. (Vaginoplasty, trach shave, and breast augmentation...) The guy is a real trooper. Anyways, I was too out of it to remember if I had any questions. I just thanked him for his time and efforts and shook his hand from my bed. I'm happy to have been in his care...
Vitals. Again?!
Talked to one of Dr. Meltzer's nurses. She reminded me: use Bacitracin on the outside for 2 weeks only and 4 weeks inside only. Any more and you run the risk of developing nasty stuff.
Went on a circular route to Walgreens and Starbucks. It's funny, being disconnected from the Internet meant I wasn't getting my normal newsfeeds. So I've gone back to reading newspapers. Yeah! Years after I abandoned them I was back to reading them. There is an advantage to printed material: as you're reading one column your peripheral vision picks up cues on other neighboring articles. That's something the Web doesn't do very well.
Stopped by the SRS patient in the princess suite and gave her the hot chocolate she requested. We stopped to talk for a bit. It was good to see her cath-capped and walking around. She even remarked with amazement about the size of her room---today was the first time she had actually seen the whole expanse of the room. Yeah, she's spoiled and she knows it.
After visiting her and the other SRS patient next door the nurses were kind enough to microwave my leftover Sam's meal back to life. Mmm. Delish.
I have to name these dilators. After all, I name my computer, my car, etc. I've been thinking:
- #1: Bob
- #2-taper: Dirk
- #2: Randy
- #3: ?
- #4: Hercules
Dilation. Yay.
I signed the release papers. I'm free! It's kinda sad to leave this special place of healing. I've met so many good people here who have been helpful and have had positive attitudes. I guess if I was ever to be hospitalized again I'd love to be in this facility. The atmosphere alone is like a happy drug.
Steve and I packed everything up. The dried flowers were taken down from the IV stand, the back closet that held my dress cleaned out, and the bathroom checked for any remaining items. I had a lot of bags left over from all the excursions and so whatever didn't fit in my luggage spilled over into plastic bags. We walked out, did our final goodbyes, and then we were gone...
We got to the hotel and dropped the bags off. I didn't want the medication getting too warm---it's over 100 degrees in the car without the air conditioning on. But then it was off to return an item.
Remember how Kara and I had gone out to the music store to get headphones? Though I loved how they felt I really couldn't justify the $100 for the sound quality they put out. Especially because I have been using my laptop for output---yes, I know that if I was in a true studio the headphones might have been better. So we went back to that music store to return them.
It is so dangerous leaving me in a music (instrument) store because I get wrapped up in the keyboards. I love music and making music. I hinted to Steve he should bring a book and he found a cool little corner to read. I on the other hand sat in the keyboard section and went through just about every patch on the Motif ES and the Triton. And then this sales assistant said they had the new Korg out front, the Triton Extreme. OMG this is so cool. I think I must have mucked around with it for like an hour. If I'm going to get another PCM-based keyboard this would probably be it. (I like the Motif but I'm so partial to Korg's menu system it's hard to switch...)
Another dilation. Yay.
 Not enough light? Nonsense! (Just learn to adjust exposure time.) |
Steve brought back dinner from My Big Fat Greek Restaurant. Both of us had taken a nap in the afternoon and by the time both of us woke up it was like 9:30p. Oops.
I was bored and full from eating so I took the camera out for a walk. Even in the low light you could still get some pretty good pictures. My wanderings eventually took me back to the front desk of this massive hotel and I was talking to the guy there. (He looked soooo bored.) I told him I had just taken a few pictures and he commented, "it's too dark to take photos." I raised an eyebrow and challenged, "oh, you really think so?" His jaw dropped when he saw the images.
And remember what I said about me and music stores? Well, there was this little piano off in the lounge area sitting all by itself and no one was around to play it ... I asked the front desk guy if it was unlocked and I could tinker with it. He said sure as long as I didn't make horrible music. Gee, thanks. I found myself being engrossed in making random music and even wrote a few chords for a new song. I love grand pianos.
I wandered around the main building for a while and somehow ended up right back at the front desk. Me and the same guy talked for a while. And when I went to leave I was asking directions about how to get back to my room. There was this little garden on the way back and he casually mentioned, "um, yeah, so that garden has an access from here. [Points to the map.] Um, there's no chairs out there but if you want one I can get you one. Would you like one?" The tone in his voice was pretty insistent it seemed. But I politely declined and found my way back... Nice guy though.
Friday, 2004.07.16:
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Dilation. Yay.
I am so beginning to smell like Surgilube. Everything smells like Surgilube. Yech.
 The famous love sculpture.  Ominous clouds loom overhead. |
Woke up very late. By the time the showering and other morning rituals were done it was past noon. We both decided it was time to brave the heat and get out of there.
That was an interesting day. We went downtown to the Civic Center Mall to visit SMoCA (Scottsdale Museum of Contemporary Art). I guess I was more interested in it than Steve because he ended up reading his book. But that's just the thing with me and museums: I like looking at how form and color mingle. I even ended up talking to one of the docents for quite a while about this one exhibit that spanned a couple galleries.
Afterwards we were itching for something to do. So we headed back to ... you guessed it: the mall. I swear to you, I never thought I would be going to this mall so often... We caught a matinee showing of "I,Robot" which turned out to be OK, I just don't think they should have used the "I,Robot" name. It would have been fine on its own.
It was funny, though, that just before the movie I was walking around the food court and then I hear this massive belch. I mean it was sickeningly loud. As I turned to see who it was I was amazed. That sound came from this little girl, short dark hair. She made no effort for an "excuse me". No, she just let it all go and seemed pretty satisfied at that. So much for manners...
Dilation. Yay.
We needed dinner so we found this little tapas place not too far from our hotel. Totally yummers. We were soooo full.
We returned a bit later and there wasn't anything special to do. So I sat out on the patio outside our room and started typing up some of these blog notes from the masses of paper I had been writing on. (Yes, all these blogs were on paper in shorthand until a few days after returning from the trip. They're being written retroactively.)
Saturday, 2004.07.17:
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Dilation. Yay.
Dilation. Yay.
Dilation. Soooo not "yay".
We had checked out of our hotel hours ago and our plane wasn't leaving until close to 6:00p. So that meant somewhere between 10:00a and 6:00p I needed to find a place to do a dilation. That really sucks. Well we found it: another hotel near the airport.
I had been dreading this moment for a while because I knew what it meant: not being in a comfy soft bed with my privacy. No, instead I would have to try to be discreet in some public place. Ack. Fortunately this hotel restroom had no one in it at all. And with a little effort I managed to smuggle the #1 inside my small purse. Boy that was an adventure trying to figure out how to balance oneself inside a public stall for about half an hour. I really hope I don't have to do that again.
After we got to our gate of departure we asked the staff if we could get a preboarding pass. They gave us this blue vinyl placard. Thank goodness. And because of that we got pretty good seating forward of the engines.
It is so strange watching the Phoenix terrain fall away from you as you ascend towards the blankets of clouds. There is still a lot of farmland out in that Valley, but you can tell it won't be there for much longer. Already main thoroughfares and freeways cut across the floor as if someone dragged a butter knife through the dirt. And where future communities are to be built there is a neat square filled with lines, arcs, and cul de sacs---they look like little microchips. A thin stream of water zig zags its way just outside of all of this. One has to wonder how a community this large can get enough water to supply its burgeoning thirst. And those croplands that make up the checkboard patterns are disappearing one by one.
We landed early but because the gates were full we had to wait on the taxi-way until a jet cleared out. I phoned ahead to Kristina to see if she'd pick us up at the curb. And on our way out to the curb I was startled by this woman who rapidly approached me. "Amber!!" I spun around and it wasn't a total stranger, no it was Kara! She happened to be in the area and so she figured she might catch me at the baggage claim. We exchanged hugs and pleasantries but all too soon my celly rang out---it was Kristina and she was circling out on the curbs. So we had to part ways and hop into our ride...
Home at last! The trip over, Steve and I moved the bags and our dinner into my house. I missed this place. I missed Greenbaum and Dr. Meltzer too, but there's nothing like being home and in your own bed...
The Surgery Series: And this concludes the Surgery Series. There's a lot of TMI moments, but that's how I remember it. I hope this takes some of the mystery out of the whole process. Thanks for reading.
Note: General SRS information is also available in a special section.
Sunday, 2004.07.18:
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Sometimes you just need an explanation. When I came home last night I was sitting on my bed talking to people. I noticed that there was something weird and gritty. Then it hit me: kitty litter. The cats had been in my room while I was out.
What was significant about this was that I was sure I closed my door when I left the house 2 weeks ago. I didn't expect the cats to be in there at all because my room is so not cat-proof. When I entered I had found the most curious thing: my bathroom door was closed. Normally it's open but it was closed. And I found big balls of cat hair on the floor. (Hardwood floors are ideal for forming furballs.) And so I had thought: gee, I don't remember this. And this morning I found cat food on the floor as I was sweeping things up.
So I nonchalantly said something to my roomie about it to which she said she may have accidentally left my room door open when she was turning on the house lights. On the one hand I believe her because she does do that. But it still doesn't explain the closed bathroom door. To me it seems that the cats must have been locked in my room for a period of time probably out of convenience when other people were over. I don't know for sure. All I will say is that I will not be held responsible should the cats ingest one of a million small things in my room...
I had a strange dream/nightmare about having to be re-catheterized. Even though I could pee fine there was something about having to remove extra fluids from my body. Eww....
 What I think of dilation. (Yes, those are tubes of Surgilube.) |
Mina and Dave stopped by for lunch today! They brought in Vietnamese sandwiches and some chocolate cake. Mmm!!! I so missed the Bay Area when I was in Arizona---we have so much diversity and fresh food not to mention some of the best weather around. Anyways, so we ate, talked, and drank some tea. Then they were kind enough to make a grocery run with me. So now I'm all stocked up with veggies, meat, water, and a bunch of other things.
It was funny when they first walked up to my house that I actually popped out of the door and walked down to meet them. Dave was puzzled that I was moving around as normally as I was and even made the comment: "... did you really have surgery ...?" Trust me, I'm surprised as well. I think most of us have this image that when a person comes out of surgery they are weak, disabled, and in generally bad shape.
My brother called! Whoa! Yeah, he didn't realize I had gone for surgery but maybe he had heard from my parents that I was back. So I filled him in on all the details. He's taking things OK, even using my name, Amber, too! He's a good guy at heart...
Not having a car and living in suburbia means life is rather difficult. But since I've been pretty active walking everywhere I decided to keep up my activity streak. I went from my house, down about 2 miles, shopped at a drug store for some pantiliners, and returned home. When I stepped back through the threshold of the house I didn't feel tired or winded. No, I felt totally pumped! Yeah! It's just too bad I know I can't do more than walk these days...
An interesting note is that probably because of the physical exercise the swelling has been very bearable. I am back in most of my old clothes and using my normal underwear. I expected to be so swollen I would be wearing skirts the entire summer. Guess I was wrong on that account. Hey, as they say, don't look a gift horse in the mouth...
Made some pretty good spaghetti tonight. Usually I do spaghetti, ground beef, can-o-sauce, and some frozen veggies---it's not gourmet but it's pretty well-balanced. I added some red and green peppers to it. Mmm...
Monday, 2004.07.19:
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This was interesting. I had my first episode of coughing whilst dilating. And it is true what they say. If you have a well-lubed dilator and you cough hard enough that thing really flies! Wow! Maybe we should make it an Olympic event...
Dirk: Amber Chan representing the United States takes the mat. She's a newcomer to this event but is showing great promise. Her coaches have been preparing her with an exercise regimen of situps and crunches.Muahaha...
Rodney: Yes, Dirk, look at those abdominal muscles. It really takes a strong mid-section to generate the needed thrust. Now only if she can take advantage of the wind factor here she might be able to extend her reach.
Dirk: OK, she's now sitting in her famous Sitting Tiger Hidden Javelin pose.
Rodney: This trademark stance is indeed one of the most innovative postures that really aligns the full power of the muscles behind the dilator's shaft.
Dirk: And the lube is on the dilator.
Rodney: Ah, the specially-weighted Titan 4000 dilator. Known for its special tapered tip and lucite shell. Wait! She's bracing herself...
Dirk: The crowd falls silent...
*cough!*
Dirk: ... and the dilator is away! What massive airtime it is getting!
Rodney: It would seem it has caught an air pocket at the top of its arc! Amazing loft!
Dirk: Falling ... falling ... YES! A new personal best for Amber!
Rodney: What a show! What incredible guts---pun intended! The newcomer kid, Amber, demonstrating that power indeed can come in small packages!
Tuesday, 2004.07.20:
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The bleeding. The oozing. The muscle aches. The swelling. The smell. This is what I paid for?
Do you want the truth on what it's like to have a newly installed vulva? Quite frankly it's about the most unsexy thing on this planet. It's ugly and needs so much TLC. It's hard to believe that people race to get through transition to get a vagina. Sorry, your vagina isn't a "turnkey solution", rather it's more like "some assembly required".
So my dilation schedule has been really odd. I started out with the recommended 4x/day. But that got old really fast. With that much frequency it leaves very little contiguous time to do anything. So I decided to do 3x/day and it's working out just fine. However instead of a mere 15 minutes I'm usually doing at least 40 mins. And during those 40 minutes I'm switching dilators up and down to get the muscles used to opening and stretching. It hurts too.
Other than this icky maintenance stuff, I've been walking a lot. It seems to help my mood and my body. Overall I think it's a good thing.
I also was pointed to this site today. Interesting. I'll let you read and draw your own conclusions.
Wednesday, 2004.07.21:
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Feminine hygene products. Yech. Also part of the Too-Much-Information department: I've been going through pantiliners like water. after every dilation, shower, etc. I use a new one. I thought this box of 64 would last me a while. Not.
When is a library not? When it gets renovated to be a state-of-the-art information centre. Our local library opened recently and I had thought "gee, what a nice looking building." Well, I actually stepped into it yesterday and holy cow it is impressive. Two floors, huge rack space, and all the yuppie/DINKy accoutrements you could want. I'm talking about wireless Internet, computer lab, cafe, comfy chairs with lawn views, automated sorting, automatic "light harvesting" system, self checkouts... Awesome.
But sometimes being in the library is not a good thing. Especially when parts of you are beginning to reawaken with a vengeance. There I was sitting in a chair when The Shocking started again. I wanted to scream but seeing as how 1) it was a library and 2) there was a guy sitting not more than 8 feet from me facing me, I chose to do the next best thing: close my eyes and pretend I'm in my happy place. Bzzzt! No, I'm in my happy place. All is calm and- Bzzzzt bzzzz! I am warm and safe. I- BZZZT! I'M IN MY HAPPY PLACE DAMMIT! Bzzzz zz zzzz zz zzz zz zz... *whimper silently*
Thursday, 2004.07.22:
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Today's fun links: Museum of Menstruation and Women's Health; the truth about female ejaculation; red raspberry leaf for relief of menstrual symptoms; and Scarlet Letters. The last one has an under-18-oriented version of itself which includes, interestingly enough, something on coming out and blue balls.
Had a very interesting chat with Jacky (a GG with a bit of sexual experience) late last night about sex and stuff. We were talking about how different guys do it, what makes her feel good, muff management, and all. It wasn't totally eye-opening but it was the kind of feeling like "huh, that's how it is". Oh, her main comment was, "tongue is king."
...
On a totally different note, I was reconnecting my landline phone and starting playing around with the answering machine buttons. I brought up this little gem from the past, my old household phone greeting:
Old Phone Greeting (0:09)...
Listen: MP3 (36 KB)
A little blog comment turned into a Rambling. Read it here: The Long-Term Game.
Friday, 2004.07.23:
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"Excuse me!!!"
My heart lurched as the call rang out. I spun my head quickly around to my left to see who it was as I tried to step off to the right of the sidewalk. A kid, probably no more than 15 or so was up on his pedals and heading straight in my direction. I stopped on the grassy side and he whizzed by me, blue nylon shorts flapping in the wind. He sorta half-looked at me and then set his sights on the sidewalk ahead of him. I regained my composure and then stepped back on the sidewalk.
I thought he would have kept riding but no more than 20 feet ahead of me he came to an abrupt stop, the squeak of the brakes clenching under pressure. He turned towards me to face me and then came the question:
"How old are you?" he quizzed. My temporary silence wasn't apparently a good enough reply for him. "27? ... 17?"
By that time I my walking pace had brought me within handshake distance of him. I peered at him through my sunglasses. "Is that the first question you always ask girls?"
"Well," he stammered, "'cuz, you look like you're 20 something."
I was totally bemused. Is this guy for real? I mean he's like a kid! I couldn't quite figure out if his intention was what I thought it was. "So how old are you?"
"18!"
Oh. My. Goodness. 18? You have to be kidding. No, wait, it gets better. I asked him if he just graduated highschool and he said "soon". Eh? "I'm getting my GED soon." Wow, I'm all a-flutter now.
The conversation went on about various nonsense about why he was down here for a funeral (because he's out of state), that he doesn't have a girlfriend, that I don't have a boyfriend, how he walks 2.5 miles from his house pretty regularly, and how his uncles smoke pot in their garage. I told him I don't smoke and he seemed happy at that. We probably walked about a block or so talking---or rather him talking and me just being amused. He was obviously not getting the signals.
"You know I'm almost twice your age," I quipped. If that didn't throw him off, what would?
Without missing a beat he said, "but you look like you're 16."
EH?! OK, that's a new one. I'll take that as a compliment. I immediately thought about trying to scare him by saying something like "no, when I was 16 I was a boy too". But I didn't. It probably would have crushed his budding manhood right about then. So I just told him I look young because I don't smoke and I walk a lot.
"This is my stop," I said as I started turning away from the sidewalk and into the mall we had just arrived at.
"So, I'll see you here at the coffee shop, say at 6?"
"Uh..." Oh, this was too rich. "Maybe, I'll think about it."
And for once he actually paused and thought about it. "So, maybe I'll see you walking around again?"
"Sure," I smiled.
And that was my afternoon.
| Yes! Done with updating the blogs from the beginning of this month until now. Photos up too! |
Saturday, 2004.07.24:
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This afternoon I did something I thought I would never do. It was too embarrassing. Too difficult. Too risky... That's right, I'm talking about karaoke. Those who know me long enough know I hate my voice and I have a high probability of being clocked because of it. So singing would seem to be totally out of the question. Well, if it wasn't for Mina then I never would have.
As we talked last week she begged me to go. She loves to sing and so does her husband. Neither of them are, uh, professional singers. But they do it for fun. I told Mina that I would never do it because I was too afraid of being outed because of it. She insisted. And insisted. So I caved on one condition: everyone that would be going has to know about my past so there wouldn't be any surprises.
It turned out it was the three of us (Mina, Dave, me) who went to this little karaoke place. We got this teeny tiny room that probably would only have enough space for about 6 people sitting. But we punched in the numbers and sang. And sang. And 3 hours later we were all tired.
This brought back a lot of memories of me and my ex, Kristina. The two of us used to sing in the car all of the time. And this one time we went for karaoke for her birthday, she and I monopolized the mics almost the entire 5 or so hours. I love singing even if I do it badly. And I soooo hated the fact when I went full-time and I refused to use my guy voice that I could no longer sing. Thus, every time I think about singing I kinda get depressed.
What was the difference this time? I think I just reached a point where I don't care so long as I don't feel I'm in danger of being outed. And it's funny. If I put enough power into my voice I'm not sure it is in fact totally clockable. I obviously have a very reduced range to sing it but I think I found a way to not sound so T-ish when singing. Ugh.
At the end of it Mina was like, "hey, we should go again! And we should get the other guys to come too!" You know what, I actually smiled and said we should...
In other not-so-happy news I was noticing a bit of bleeding today around the clitoris. After testing a few things I think I figured out where it's bleeding from and it's not pretty. Some of the skin isn't healing together and I think it's due to two things: 1) excessive movement around that area, and 2) reduction in swelling. Because the swelling is going down the area is a lot more flexible. And that means this particular seam isn't being held in a constant position anymore---it kinda bounces. I just hope the wound actually heals up in time...
Sunday, 2004.07.25:
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Thanks to another one of Gwen Smith's Asshat columns we bring you this little gem of an error message from http://the.mostsexymen.com/:
Once upon a midnight dreary, while I websurfed, weak and weary,Well, it would seem I found out why I have been spotting/oozing. (Ew.) The self-dissolving sutures, I believe, are at the point of totally dissolving. I can remember when I was fresh from surgery that the sutures were pretty stiff and solid. Now they are like soft, weak threads almost like thin yarn. That would explain why the skin around the clitoris has been sort of "floating"---the site is no longer tethered against its will by the threads but rather on its own power. As a result I pretty much stayed put all day in my bed, sleeping, waiting.
...Over many a strange and spurious website of 'hot chicks galore',
...While I clicked my fav'rite bookmark, suddenly there came a warning,
...And my heart was filled with mourning, mourning for my dear amour.
..."'Tis not possible," I muttered, "give me back my cheap hardcore!" -
Quoth the server, "404"
Why do I write things so graphically? Mainly to speak the truth of the matter that surgery is not a simple point in time. In our culture today we're used to instant gratification. We drive up to a window, pay our money, get our food, and then we're back on our way. Surgery entails maintenance and recovery following the event. And that takes time.
Someone actually asked me today, "so, can you feel your G-spot?" Really, now. I'm still swollen, numb, bruised, sutures dangling, having to wear pads, etc. Yucky. Sex-related things are probably quite a ways off. I mean, I certainly would hope that months from now I'll have something juicy to share but right now I'm just doing day-to-day maintenance stuff and trying to stay healthy.
Tuesday, 2004.07.27:
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Wow. One of my abdominal sutures finally dissolved and released itself. I was just looking down and typically there are two divots just below my navel where Dr. Meltzer anchored the sutures internally. They said they are designed to release themselves about 2 weeks after I got back. Looks like it's right on time.
Wednesday, 2004.07.28:
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I tried taking in the #3 dilator. It actually went in! Not very far, mind you, but I was like, wow, it fit. Well, it didn't fit nearly as well as when i went from the #1 to #2, but I'm glad I can relax the muscles to the point where they'll allow the dilator. It's painful thought it's working...
Thursday, 2004.07.29:
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Yay. Internal suture #2 popped this morning. Finally.
So I broke down yesterday and got a music creation system. Yay. My new toy. It's pretty cool being an integrated MIDI sequencer, audio sampler, and virtual synthesizer. People have said it's a difficult environment to work with but I think I'm getting along OK with it. I'll have to say that entering notes via MIDI is so much quicker than tracking. And the latency compensation seems to be working out quite well---something which made MIDI via a tracker not possible.
Friday, 2004.07.30:
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Went into work yesterday and downloaded my work e-mail. All 1,669 of them. I'm so not looking forward to returning to the office on Monday...
Checked in with my endocrinologist who happens to also give post-op examinations. After she beckoned me into the room I saw she was indeed ready to go to work. The reclining examination table/chair had one of those waterproof changing pads (like the Chux pad I used in the hospital), a stand with a mirror, and a second stand with a plastic speculum on it. I removed what I was wearing on my lower half and then eased myself down on the Chux pad.
She first put on a glove and lubed up a finger. Under the bright light she prodded side to side, checking out all the nooks and crannies. Then came the fun part. She turned to her right and picked up the speculum. It was one of those small clear plastic disposable ones that look almost like a pair of duck bills when closed. A few dabs of lube and as her arm motioned toward me I laid back and tried relaxing all my muscles. I'm in my happy place. I'm in my happy place...
It actually went in rather easy being much smaller than the #1 even. She went in slow and then squeezed the handle to open it up. "Man, you've got depth! Looks like you're ready for the big boys now," she joked. But I guess it's true. She pushed the speculum all the way in and looked around some more. Then she said, "there's a mirror to your right..."
I picked up the mirror and held it arm's length away and looked at what she was looking at. Wow. It simply blew me away. The color looked great, the skin looked like it wasn't too stressed out, and I even got to see the back wall. I hope this is a good sign. The perineum did show some signs of really tearing---something I had seen/felt even in those first days after the packing was out. She said that for smaller people or those with taut skin that tearing of the perineum was almost imminent. She said a little silver nitrate on the now-granularized tissue would help.
After that examination we talked about my hormone regiment. I'm off the spiro (duh!) and progesterones for now, but I've been back on my Vivelle Dot patches. I told her how unsatisfied I am with the skin irritation. I looked at her with pleading eyes and said, "I'll do anything to get away from these patches. Injectibles, creams, implants---anything! Please!" And I meant it. The patches were great initially but my skin quickly developed an irritation with them. So she left the room and returned with a box.
"There's a few new options available now," she said handing the small carton to me. "That's a week's supply of a new topical cream. Estradiol cream."
"Hm, Estrasorb?" I looked inside of it and there were these small packets that almost looked like the ones you get for individually-wrapped alcohol swabs.
"Apply two packets per day on your thighs or forearms," she instructed. Apparently this was a product even she hadn't tried out yet---she's also TS. But it might just do the trick...
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Entries may show the mood for the day. From best to worst moods here's the list:
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Ecstatic -
Happy -
Good -
OK -
Blech -
Sad -
Abysmal
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