Happy Birthday Minnie

*Walks in, blows away cobwebs and an inch of dust*

It’s been a while, huh?

So it’s 6 am and it’s July 12th. Thanks to the magic of insomnia, I’ve been awake for some time now. Unlike this time last year I am home instead of an unfamiliar place and waiting for stuff to kick off. Yup, it’s a year to the day since a very big thing happened in my life, so happy birthday Minnie 😀

A year already, huh. Time flies, I guess. At times it still feels surreal that it’s happened at all, yet at other times it’s almost like it’s as if she’s always been there. I will say though being at a point where I’m not having to dilate 3 times a day any more is nice. Now it’s 3 times a week and I can basically arrange it so I can do that when I’m doing the late shifts at work, so no need to be getting up early to get that out of the way.

Speaking of dilation, I got a hold of some nice dilators to use, and got the next size up, which is helpful, as the new one is close to the size a lot of adult toys come in.

Basically these go in easier than the old rods I used to have because they’re nicely tapered, and they have a series of dots up the side to gauge depth. The purple and blue ones are the same size, while the green is the next size up. The only issue now is not getting them muddled up with Rebecca’s as she has a set of these too.

It’s not been all plain sailing though on the recovery front. Granulation has been a bit of an issue and in May I did have to have a minor revision to chop out a lump of skin that had been irritating me and I’m using a steroid cream to help smooth some areas now. All things considered and given the things I’ve seen other people deal with post op, I know I’ve been fairly lucky. All being well it’s no more trips to Parkside and no more appointments, well not for a while anyway.

Even now I’m still noticing changes to my body a year on out and things settle and heal. Scarring has began to fade and because my HRT is now working unimpeded I’m getting a bit curvier in places I want curves. It’s kinda like being back when I first started out on the stuff and noticing the changes only now it’s just rounding out things, rather than growing.

Since I was last on here a few things have happened, as they do. For one I’ve changed jobs, not by choice I should add. Thankfully I was able to sort that out fairly quickly and it does come with the bonus of now working with my girl now, albeit we’re on different departments.

Secondly I got my suspicions confirmed and have had my autism formally diagnosed. Now I await an appointment for an assessment to see just where I sit on the spectrum. the ironic thing about this is because of the state of the NHS, thanks to our idiotic government, the waiting time for this, unless I go private is three years, or thereabouts. Sounds familiar, doesn’t it? It’s not like I’ve had some practice with waiting absurd times for healthcare appointments eh?

Ahh well, that will turn up when it turns up. Unlike my appointments to get my body sorted out, I’m not too fussed on getting an autism assessment out of the way. At this point I know a lot about how it impacts on my life and how to deal with it. It’s more of a case of it would be nice to know where I sit on the scale. The main thing (the diagnosis) is done already. It’s another jigsaw piece located and fitted in really.

After 4 years it’s kinda nice to be in a position where I’m not having to constantly be anxious about appointments, weather they’ll be cancelled at the last moment and weather or not I get the outcome I’m hoping for. Now if someone would get their head out of their ass and fix the system so that other people going on this journey didn’t have to spend 4, 5, 6 years or more jumping through hoops to get to where they want now, that would be nice.

 

 

Now What?

To borrow a Deep Purple album title for my own, Now what indeed. It’s an apt question for when you reach what feels like the end of a journey or quest. In this case it’s to do with my transition. It’s something I’ve thought about occasionally just lately.

I mean, I’ve got no more dates or appointments to look forward to, I’m pretty damn happy with how things are now and I have no desire to pursue any thing else beyond what I’ve gone and done and that screaming voice that was dysphoria these days is now a whisper that comes in from time to time.

It’s three years since I got approval for and went onto HRT and it’s six months since I had surgery. Even now I’m seeing and noticing subtle changes because of the HRT, which is now working better now it’s not having to fight a boatload of testosterone. It’s kinda amazing how much time has passed. Some days it feels like forever since I went to hospital, yet other days it’s like it happened five minutes ago.

On the surgical front things are continuing to heal up nicely. Only having to dilate once a day is nice as it’s now not influencing how I plan stuff in the day and pretty soon I won’t have to do that every day. Everything seems to work well enough, though I still have a numb area where my right leg meets my groin. That might change, that might not. All things considered I’m quite happy with things and know I’ve had a pretty good result.

I’m now back at work too, having made a phased return and got back to full time a month ago. I seem to be doing well there, albeit I’m now on a different department that isn’t so demanding on my body. I still need to take care on that front because I’m aware there’s still the possibility of damaging things if I push myself too hard.

That all being said, I’m not entirely done with all the logistics and whatnot that come with transitioning. Rebecca is still on her journey and I’m doing what I can to help support her through things.

Beyond this, we get back to the question of “What now?” I know it’s a question a lot of people ask at this point. I know some people decide to go stealth and pretty much disavow them self from anything trans related. Others keep blazing on, taking up or continuing to be an activist for change for us as there’s a still a long way to go until we have equality in society. Some people just want to quietly get on with their life.

As for me, I’m very much in the latter camp. I’m not cut out to be much of an activist though I will continue to quietly go about highlighting stuff that’s wrong. I feel the best thing I can do is what I’ve always done: Get on with life and show society I’m just another person, getting on with life and who just happens to be trans. We’re really not that scary or interesting. I get up, go to work, share a nice little space with my beautiful Rebecca and we go and go out places together. I play games, I do gaming streams and I love my sci-fi and anime.

That aside, I’ll always be here for anyone seeking advice on stuff. I’ve never been one to shy away from answering questions, as long as they’re sensible, and not just pervy men asking me what’s in my pants, as we so often get on Twitter. Believe me, I get quite a lot of dumb messages from people like that.

So anyway, until next time, or whenever something interesting comes up to write about, here’s a girl who’s much happier in her shell, signing off for now.

 

Feeling Lighter

Well it’s been a little over two months now and things by and large have been fairly smooth on the recovery front. There’s been a couple of non surgical bumps along the way, some physical, some emotional. The first time I went out to do something other than walk to the local shops I had a fall which shook me up and knocked my mobility back a couple of weeks. I also lost a wonderful friend to cancer a few weeks back, a couple of weeks before the third anniversary to losing dad in similar circumstances. that aside, I’ve come through things ok, considering I’m aware of just how big an impact surgery and recovery can have on mental health. I won’t lie, I have had the odd time where it’s been time to dilate and had a bit of that “I’m getting tired of this” mentality, but I know it’s a temporary thing. As time goes on I’ll have to do this less and it’ll help.

A couple of weeks ago I had my post op check up and my surgeon has been happy with how things are progressing. Aside from having to come home with a catheter for a week the only other complication I’ve had is granulation. It’s very common with wound healing for patches of skin to get over-active and heal in such ways you end up with little flaps here and there.

I had one which was interfering with the last part of my surgical would to heal (the area in the middle of the fourchette). Thankfully there’s a fairly simple remedy for this: Silver nitrate. It basically chemically burns off the offending skin. It does sting a fair bit, but it settles down fairly quickly. I’ve still some healing to do and I think I’ll need another appointment to deal with some of the less annoying granulation, but apart from that the only other thing is I’m now down to dilating twice a day. This is a big thing because it means I don’t have to split my days up any more and planning things so I’m home by early afternoon to do the midday one. It’s also an hour reclaimed from dilating, clean up and maintenance. As I said earlier on, this helps from a mental health aspect. I’m less tired as well because I’m spending less energy on this, so lately I’ve been able to go out and do more than just trips to the shops. Oh I still get tired quickly, but it’s not as bad now.

Of course, I’m still getting used to a lot of things. I don’t really have pain any more, aside from random nerves healing up and causing twinges, and I’m steadily gaining sensation in most places now. Meanwhile the swelling is still going down and things look subtly different each day. it took a good seven weeks before I could finally sit up properly and not have too much pressure put on stuff because of the swelling.

Like a lot of other things transition related, I have that big feeling of feeling so much happier about things the way they are now, compared to beforehand. No need to worry about tucking, being mindful of clothing because I don’t want things to show up. I can just wear what the hell I want and not care, and I feel a lot lighter for it.

The only slight cloud on the horizon is I’m getting near to the point where I’ll have to go back to work. Given I do a fairly physical job I am worried about how I’m going to get through the day as I know my energy levels aren’t anywhere near there yet. Hopefully we’ll get a return to work plan sorted out this week that’ll have this in mind.

Oh, before I go, shout out to my Uncle Jim and Auntie Mary Jane for 25 happy years of being married to one another, and here’s to many more for you (as I know my aunt reads my ramblings on here 😀 ).

 

Slow and Steady

Just a heads up, this is pretty all talk about medical stuff, might want to skip if that’s triggering. With that out of the way …

Well I’ve been home a week and a half now and it’s been two weeks since surgery. I’ve settled into the post op routine of resting up, taking things easy and not overdoing stuff, along with dilating three times a day.

Dilating generally means spending the best part of 40 minutes on my back in the spare room inspecting and monitoring ongoing healing and areas of concern, cleaning things up and then going to work with Hope and Mercy, my dilators. This is follwed up by 10 minutes or so in the bath cleaning up and setting things up for the next round.

Of course this means having to split the day up to accomodate this, which can put a crimp on plans and get wearing after a while, but after ten weeks or so this can be dropped down to twice a day. If I get to the point where I start geting frustrated I just need to remind myself that like so many other things, we’re playing the long game here. Things will improve, slow and steady.

Things are progressing nicely on the healing front. I’ve had no signs of infection thus far (though I am monitoring my body temperature every day) and things are generally mending well. I have had a couple of fairly raw spots that have opened up alog the stitching at the base of my vagina, but that’s to be expected as it’s an area where a lot of movement happens, as well as being the area my dilators go in. If I’m honest I was expecting this, as well as having to delicately remove any dead tissue from the area. hankfully I’ve not had much of this.

I seem to have been fairly lucky on the pain front too. I’m actually shocked at how little pain I’ve been in so far, relatively spoeaking. I thought there’d be times I’d be screaming the place down, but no, the worst pain I’ve had has been mainly through catherter issues. The day where I had the first one out and couldn’t wee was easily the most discomfort I’ve had so far and then the first week at home I’ve had to be so careful not to knock or move it.

I finally had it removed on Thursday and I’m shocked at just how much more moble I’ve become since. I’m no longer having random stabs of pain because I’ve moved the wrong way and caused the catheter to shift and keeping myself clean down there is a lot easier now I don’t have to gingerly work around the line in.

Being able to wear clothes properly is so underrated. With the catherter in to be honest, wearing anything on my lower half was more trouble than it was worth. With that out, and seeing my underwear actually fit and not trying to hide things anymore is a good feeling I can’t put into words. Mentally, having that chunk of dysphoria finally disppear is great. It’s like a static hum that has finally been silenced. In computer terms it’s like deleting a program that’s sat in the background far ages and hogging a large chink of the CPU resource.

It’s also good to see Minnie (yes I called my vagina Minnie, sue me 😛 ) in all her splendour now that thing is out. Of course things look a bit battered still but the changes day by day, seeing things improve as swelling lessens and things heal is nice.

It’s also nice, being a bit more mobile is doing humdrum things around the house. The other day i was able to make breakfast for me and Rebecca. Granted it was only tea and toast, but given I’ve not been able to do anything for two weeks, it’s a big thing to me. Rebecca has been a star, she’s done so much for me over the past couple of weeks and I have been fighting that feeling of feeling bad becuse I can’t do anything much. I know feeling bad for not doing stuff becuase of the surgery is daft, but try tell that to my brain. Of course i still can’t do much and it’ll be weeks before I can do anything vaguely strenuous, but being able to do litle jobs again is a relief.

I even escaped the flat yesterday, even if it was just to accompany Rebecca to the shops. I couldn’t do anything more than push the trolley around and I’m still shuffling around like an old woman but it’s nice to be on my feet. Of course there was a bit of discomfort here and there but my main issue was my blood pressure, which keeps dropping off at random. Thankfully I took my stick with me and there’s places to sit down, and I had time to get there as I know the warning signs well. Hopefully it’ll sort itself out in time.

If I’m honest I’ve not really had that feeling of cabin fever that I know some people get post surgery. Feeling as I am I an quite happy not leaving the flat for a week and especially so during the heatwave. My body really doesn’t function well in 30c heat so even if I wasn’t recoveringfor surgery I’d be planning stuff so I wouldn’ have to be outside after 11am anyway as I can’t be dealing with sunburn or heatstroke.

If I’m honest my only real frustration right now is an inability to sit up properly. Things are just too uncomfortable at the moment so I’ve been doing a lot of lounging or lying down lately. Oh well, here’s hoping that’ll change soon and things continue as they have been.

(I escaped 😀 )

Well, It Happened

 

To carry on with the terminology from my last blog, launch happened on the 12th July with very little complications thus far. Owing to the fact I felt unable to sit down and write in any great depth aftewards I opted for a series of video logs detailing the event and how I was feeling. Excuse the laclustre quality of said videos, I recorded all but one using the laptop camera and microphone and haven’t a clue on how to edit stuff. I shall put them in chronological oder below for anyone curious.

 

 

 

I returned home on the 18th July, but I did have one complication. After recording my final video I had my catherter taken out at midnight. At first things seemed ok but by 4am I was having issues, namely things swelling up and being unable to wee. After a four hour ordeal I was re-cathertered before being discharged.

It’s not an uncommon complication from the procedure I had and I’ve now got a few days of emptying bags and trying not to snag the line while doing my maintenance and getting around. Hopefully things will have settled down by the time I have it out next week. All things considered and the other kind of complications that can hapen, this is a minor one.

I’m home, Rebecca is looking after me and is being a super girl and I have a  routine up and going for doing maintenance, taking care of the surgery site and trying to prevent infections and generally concentrate on getting better.

Go For Launch

There, I think that title says it all really. Ok, maybe I should add some context to that. Well launch procedures run on countdowns and in a way so have I. with all this surgical stuff. I should add here said countdown got paused for a bit, and by a bit I mean a month as my op date was somehow double booked, but whatever. It’s happening and it’s getting pretty close now.

The last pre-launch checks have come back clear too, and by that I mean I had my presurgical assessment last week. Now I was intending to write about this sooner, but I didn’t get a chance on the day and since then I’ve had laptop troubles. Anyway, back to what I’m meant to be writing about …

I’ll spare you the travel details down to the hospital, though I did find a way there that didn’t involve tube trains, a good thing as my last outing on one of those triggered a meltdown. All in all i got there with no problems, everything ran on time (amazing given the present rail chaos at the moment) and I was miles too early for my appointment. It must have been a quiet day though as I had the waiting room to myself and we got on with stuff pretty much right away.

(Here we are again)

Tests were done, quite a few at that. I had my height, weight and BMI checked. (5,9″, 11st, 22.7 for anyone interested) Hmm, seems I’ve lost an inch somewhere. Blood pressure was next, 120/70 as usual. It’s no secret that HRT raises blood pressure, happily in my case this has meant my blood pressure is boosted to where it should be for a normal person.

had a chat with the nurse about my medical history, any family medical history of relevance and my health in general.

MRSA swabs were next, a new thing for me. Basically a cotton bud was rubbed around the inside of my nose (which tickled), and then the same for my groin. Thankfully I could do that one myself and only involved putting the thing in that crease where your leg meets your body.

Blood tests were next. I’ll spare you the usual minor freakout I had because I can’t handle the sensation I get from feeling a needle go in me. Blood tests were for the usual things, like liver function, making sure I wasn’t anaemic and so on. Also useful for figuring out my blood type, necessary, just in case a transfusion is needed (unlikely, but it’s a possibility with this surgery).

Finally came the ECG, or echo cardiogram, yeah, that thing where they put half a dozen sensors on you and wire them to a machine to check your heart rate. It’s something that according to my nurse a lot of people hate. I’m not bothered by it, I’ve seen them done before and knew the procedure. Here’s a fun fact. My reaction to needles is so strong it nearly wrecked this test. it took us a while to get a clean reading.

And after all this fun I had the final glamorous task of going off to wee in a bottle for yet more tests before going for a sit down before moving onto part two. this would be with a lady called Iffy. I’d been in contact with her over the past few months in the run up to this. She’s got a reputation for being a brilliant nurse and I had heard a lot of really good things about her from other trans women.

With Iffy we went through the hospital procedures, timetable, what to expect and so on. This is good because a lot of unknowns were sorted out and I am a bit more relaxed now there’s a structure to things. We went through admission day, surgery day and the days after, before going through the big reveal day and dilation procedures. Things I learned?

• I get fragmin injections to look forward to each day I’m there (more needles).
• Nil by mouth after midnight and I have a nice enema to look forward to at 6am
• I’m going to have emla cream prescribed so I will cope better with the canula/anaesthetic procedure on the day.
• I can get up and about the day after surgery and providing there’s no issues I can go wandering about and can even leave the hospital during the day to go to the local cafe if it takes my fancy, provided I let them know where I’m going of course.
• My catheter will be taken out at midnight on the day I’m due to go home.

Once home it’ll be a case of eat, sleep, dilate three times a day, repeat for the first 8 weeks before dropping dilation down to twice a day if things are well and no doing anything strenuous for 6 weeks.

Am I nervous? A bit, but as I said to Iffy that won’t really kick in until the day before, when things actually start happening, at which point I’ll probably skip nervous and go straight for panic attack. To be fair, and as Iffy said, I’ve never had an operation before and I’ve chosen a biggie for my first. We’re going to be doing something that’ll basically punch a big hole in the most powerful muscle in your body.

Do I have any doubts? Is this what I want? Two questions that I have asked myself occasionally throughout transition. I’m not afraid to admit that. Questions that I answer with a counter question; Am I happier now? To which my entire mind screams out “Fuck yes”. It’s nice to have consensus for a change.

Mission Control? Resume the countdown. We are go for launch.

(Eva 01 launch sequence, from Neon Genesis Evangelion.)

 

 

 

To Fall In love With Life Again

(CW: mentions of self injury, as well as sex stuff)

Hello everyone, I thought it would be time for an update on life and all that’s been going on. I’m going to be mostly talking about trans stuff, so if there’s any trolls lurking on here who objects to this, don’t let the door hit your ass on the way out.

No, seriously, I logged on here a while back and had a comment from someone who called themself an ally but had all the hallmarks of a TERF trying to bitch me out for banging on about trans issues. Funnily enough they never came back after calling them out. But anyway…

The past few weeks I feel like I’ve awakened from a the depths of a long winter. An apt metaphor in a lot of ways because this winter has been the hardest I’ve had for a couple of years in terms of my mental health. Back before Christmas I had finally gotten my second surgical opinion and it then took until the end of March to finally receive that in writing. This basically means I’ve been in limbo for three months because this means the hospital were also waiting for this. Until it was sent out, I could not progress and I find that extremely hard to deal with. Having to make half a dozen phone calls to chase this up while seeing friends go through this state and onto surgical appointments only added to things while I was getting so frustrated by being held back for no appreciable reason I would have meltdowns that ended up with me smacking my head as a result.

What was also not helping was the fact in the meanwhile I had heard there was a very good chance I would not be going to my choice of hospital (Parkside) as there’s evidently a disconnect between Tavistock GIC and Imperial College. Imperial only send people to Parkside if they can’t get people through their place within 18 weeks of referral, while the GIC imply we have free choice regarding which surgeon we want to go with. With all else going on I was at the point where I didn’t give a damn who I saw, I just wanted things done.

Thankfully this has finally been resolved. I got my letter towards the end of March and was pleasantly surprised to get a phone call from Imperial a week later asking if I ‘didn’t mind’ going to Parkside as they had capacity issues at Imperial. Needless to say I said yes to this and another week passed before hearing from Parkside and I’m now two weeks away from my surgical consultation.

The thing that irks me most about all this is the fact after you get your second opinion, it’s good for 12 months. Not 12 months from when they send the letter out, 12 months from the day you’re seen. Thanks to all this mucking about, 4 months of that time has been burned up. I really don’t want to know what the procedure is if 12 months elapsed. It’s just one of so many things that are fucked up with the present system and needs reforming.

Presuming I don’t have any complications I should have everything over and done in the next couple of months and I can focus on just getting on with life now that I feel energised once more. Speaking of which …

It’s the end of a week off from work  for us both here and unlike the last time off we had I feel like we’ve achieved stuff. We have a new sofa for the living room and new side units to go with them so we’ve got more storage for stuff. I also did a spot of minor DIY and repainted and treated the mould in the window bay as well as put some new curtains up.
The back bedroom is organised to a point where I can set up the spare bed and use the room for the aftercare I’ll need to do post op too. It’s probably just as well we spent the holiday doing productive stuff as I fully expect my next chunk of time off work to be recovering from surgery.

Basically because things are finally progressing and I’m getting closer to getting a big thing in my life sorted out I’m feeling more more energised and more able to do stuff and tackle some of the other ongoing stuff that crops up in my mind from time to time.

First off, I finally got a proper hair cut. I know that sounds trivial, but given I’ve spent the last few months flip flopping between styles and not being able to make a decision, it’s a big thing to me. I didn’t want to rush in and regret it later as it’s taken me 4 years to grow my hair out it’s a big deal to me. As you can see I’m over the moon with the results.

 

 

Secondly, I’ve managed to sort out something else that I’ve ummed and ahhed about for a while not. Y’see, you spend all these years trying to live a life that you then find out isn’t you and it all unravels because you figure out you’re trans and then rebuild from there. You get left with all these snippets and not knowing what to do with them, if they’re still a part of you, if they’re still relevant, or just another piece of the shell that you broke out from upon coming out and finally living as your true self and doesn’t belong to you now.

Sex, sexuality and kink are some of these fragments and for the past two years I’ve made a few goes at sitting down and trying to figure them out, only to become rather bewildered and pack them all away, to try again later. Well without going into too much detail, I’ve finally partially figured this out As you many well have noticed lately I’ve taken to wearing collars and chokers once again.

In kink terms wearing a collar indicates you belong to someone, in my case I belong to Rebecca. For me a collar is a symbolic thing. I’ve said from early on she’s got my heart and soul and in wearing one it’s a physical manifestation of this. I feel more secure for doing this, there’s a grounding element to this, form the perspective it’s a reminder that no matter what is going on in my life, she is always there, always protecting me, always loving me for me, and odd as this sounds I feel liberated for doing so. Being able to trust someone enough to confide in this and give myself fully to. I’ve not figured out much else beyond this, but even making this step is more a help than you can imagine. Once again I’m struggling to put things into words, but I’m not struggling, if that makes sense.

Erm, Hurry Up and Wait?

Is that what I do now? Well it fits well with the rest of the transition narrative I suppose, what between the time from referral to first appointment, assessments for HRT and then for surgical opinions. I’m up past the two and a half year mark on that front and still going now I’m onto the next phase of proceedings.

Not going to lie, the past couple of months since my appointment was kicked back has been hard. It’s pretty much been a long, drawn out anxiety attack really. When I’ve had three appointments and two of them have been affected by someone cancelling and rescheduling months down the road I get very anxious that it’ll happen again. Navigating the run up to Christmas is hard enough for me without this extra thing going on in my head.

The week before my appointment was where things got really fun. First off, I get knocked on my back for a full three days with the flu. Secondly the car decides it’s had enough and starts giving up, by way of a massive coolant failure which resulted in the car doing it’s best impression of a kettle. The car, luckily enough we managed to replace, the flu however was reluctant to shift. Well, flu or no flu I was going to London. A meteor strike couldn’t stop me going so a damn stupid virus had no chance.

(Meet the new car: Includes mod cons such as working heating and stereo)

Anyway, Rebecca and I did our usual, got up, got ready, drove to the station and got the train to London. Thankfully it was an afternoon appointment so no rush hour to deal with and tickets are half what they cost at peak time. Things were going ok until we got to the tube. As you all know I despise the thing. At the best of times I struggle with the noise and closeness. Air quality is another issue. Between my asthma and fairly low lung capacity it doesn’t take much for me to get out of breath at the best of times. Off the back of the flu? It was grim, especially on the Victoria line where I swear the trains are coal powered. The air is so smokey down there it’s alarming. I got so out of breath Rebecca was having to hold me upright while trying to keep herself upright on a horribly jerky train. At some point the jolting does something to my left leg. By the time we get to Baron’s Court I’m wrecked. I had to sit down at the station for 10 minutes trying to get my breath back. A trip up the stairs reveals something in my leg isn’t right. It’s agony trying to bend it. I suspect sciatica, especially how it carried on coming home later.

Things are determined to try and get in my way this day. Even so, we set a new record for turning up to one of our appointments early. We were there three hours early. This sounds insane, but Rebecca and I both hate turning up late to places so allow a silly amount of time for incidents etc. It was something that was hammered home when we got to CHX and registering. Some poor guy who came in just after us had trekked halfway across the country and was 2 hours later for his appointment thanks to a broken down train. Luckily he was able to be seen and got what he needed but even so. The day they finally get a centre opened in Wales so people don’t need to trek all the way from there to London for care can’t come soon enough.

After getting some lunch we return ( I’d gone in and registered earlier on so I could stop panicking that the appointment wasn’t on) and while sitting and waiting we end up having a chat to other people there for appointments. A young trans man and trans woman spot they’re both massive Harry Potter fans and get chatting away in between questions about various experiences we’ve had while transitioning. An older trans woman tells of how her brother’s disowned her over what’s going on. I sit there thinking I’ll miss these moments, chatting, giving people not so far along advice and reassurance about things. I don’t get to think for long as I get called in 10 minutes early for my appointment.

Much like my previous appointment the first 10 minutes is spent catching up on stuff, how things are going, how’s family been, etc. Got asked a couple of questions on how I felt things are going and how long I’d been transitioning for, if I’d had any regrets, etc. The question of grief counselling comes up again after talking about dad again.

Medical history was touched upon. I fill the clinician in on my asthma and medication, get asked the usual questions on drug and alcohol usage (No, and barely drink these days, thank you).

After this we start talking about surgical options. This is pretty brief as I already know what I wanted and had my notebook to hand already. Seeing as I’m going down the penile inversion route talk turns towards that and what’s needed. I was asked if I was circumcised (I’m not). This is good as it’s more material for the surgeon to play with and because of this there’s a good chance hair removal down below is not needed. Once the referral is done and a pre-surgery appointment is completed, hair removal is usually the biggest hold up as there’s not much of a waiting time for the surgery itself at this point.

and various risks and drawbacks that might arise, how depth and sensation can vary (or be non existent), surgical complications such as prolapse or the rare but very nasty one where the bowel gets nicked during the operation and what’s needed to be done about that. Basically there’s a chance this could happen, a fistula forms and bowel fluid gets into your nice new vagina. This results in an operation to isolate the bowel and the need for the use of a colostomy bag while things are repaired and healed. After this, things are reattached and hopefully things will continue as normal. This isn’t a shock to me as I was paying attention back when I attended the orientation lecture a couple of years ago and I’m well aware of possible issues.

Aftercare is also discussed, dilation and generally looking after yourself until you’re ready to go back to work. I learned that I might not have to stop HRT before surgery. Most surgeons get you to stop for six weeks before surgery and wait three week after before going back on it as it helps lessen the chances of blood clotting occurring. Apparently one of the surgeons doesn’t insist on this though, not that I was told which one it was. Interesting to know because I’d rather avoid a menopausal hot flush mess if I can as I’m not that great at regulating body temperature as it is.

I’m asked what surgery would mean to me. For one it means I’d feel comfortable having some level of intimacy with Rebecca because things down there would be right. Peace of mind knowing I won’t ever have to worry about tucking and hoping things aren’t giving the game away ever again. Truthfully, it’s mainly peace of mind, being able to look in the mirror while dressing or undressing and not having a ‘Damn, it’s still there’ moment. I’m pretty happy with what HRT has given me after two years and nothing else gives me any real dysphoria these days.

Swimming was discussed, that classical thing a lot of trans people avoid because of dysphoria, and getting changed. I promptly joke about my terrible swimming ability. I swim like a brick and I get so out of breath after a couple of minutes I usually don’t go again for years.

And after that little ice breaker I get the news I’d been hoping for: My second opinion. It’s like an early Christmas present, and a massive weight is lifted. Talk turns towards where I’d like to go for surgery. I’d decided long ago I was heading for Parkside. If I’m honest I’m not too fussed who gets to work on me: So long as things down below look alright and do what they need to do I’m not even that bothered about the look of the thing. I know this sounds weird and probably blasé too, but that’s me. Parkside got chosen for geographical convenience. Why tramp halfway across the country for something when it can be done 25 miles or so from home?

Thanks to the vagaries of the admin system, Charing Cross GIC can’t make direct referrals to Parkside, only to Nuffied in Brighton, or Imperial College across the road. For Parkside, they go through Imperial and they do the referral. Another vagary is the fact that in spite of the fact the report will be written up the same day, it’ll take six weeks for the GIC to sent the referral out to across the road. basically if I don’t hear anything by March I can start badgering people. Meanwhile, I do have a contact for a nurse at Parkside to discuss things, which I shall do in the new year. I mean, what’s a week or two on that front after all the time I’ve waited thus far.

Anyway, on that note, I hope everyone has a good time over the holidays and hope the new year brings good things to you all xxxxxxxxxxxxx

 

(Once again my wonderful Rebecca’s by my side and being awesome)

Trans Pride 2017

Well Trans Pride is over and done for another year and I’m at home and in bed writing this even though it’s only 8pm. I’m that tired, so tired I can’t concentrate and then spent most of the next day feeling rather ill.

The past few days have taken a lot out of me, more than I thought for a number of reasons. On the physical side of things my phone recorded 30k of walking spread over four days. Factor in the fact I went to Brighton a week after smashing my toe at home and then picking up a massive blister on the first night I’m quite surprised I managed to hobble and curse my way along such a distance.

Mentally I’m feeling very frazzled. Social events have that effect on me anyway but this year it’s been pretty brutal at times. I overdid things on Friday, had a meltdown on Saturday and spent a fair bit of Sunday in an unfocused haze. I’m starting to realise how neurodivergent I am and becoming more aware of how it impacts on a lot of things. As a kid I was diagnosed with ADHD and I know I have a number of sensory issues, such as being very sensitive to loud noises and bright light. I really need to sort out my glasses instead of having to choose being able to see clearly or being blinded by strong sunlight.

For instance Friday night we went to the Trans Pride Film Event. A series of short films by a number of different independent groups revolving around different aspects of gender identity and how they play out. The films themselves were interesting, but for accessibility all of the films had closed captions. This was brilliant as I was able to read what was being said instead of listening, or tying to listen to the films while trying to tune out about a million different and distracting noises. It also meant if there was a particular noise that was bothering me, I could block it out. Case in point, a droning sound in the first film resulted in me covering my ears until it had gone away. With the closed captions I could still follow the narrative while this was going on. I’m also realising if I am having to block sounds out by covering my ears when out and about no-one pays any heed, which is nice.

Thursday night was pretty good, Rebecca and I had made plans to meet up with our friend the lovely Kate and go for dinner out somewhere, which we did after we checked into the hotel and chilled out for a couple of hours. We were later joined by Lisa and had a good catch up over a couple of drinks. I think Rebecca actually got a bit drunk that night. The only downside was my feet acting up. My shoes weren’t comfortable and I later found I had a huge blister on my right foot on top of the bad toe that had been playing up. I walked back in my socks, which was another poor idea as walking for half an hour with no support on my arches meant I was almost in tears by the time we got back. It also resulted in me buying an emergency set of trainers while out and about on Friday.

A lovely evening out with Kate (Far left) and Lisa (Far right)

Friday was a long old day, a bit too long looking back on it. We had a wander round the shops, lunch out and a trip to the Brighton and Hove art gallery afterwards. The gallery was interesting on a couple of fronts. For one they had a big Constable exhibition on display, secondly they had the museum of Transology, which had an effect on me. Basically it was a museum of curios donated by various trans people that symbolised their journeys and I can see myself writing a blog about something based on this in the near future. I do hope the exhibition finds a permanent home because it deserves one. Transgender history is rather fragmented thanks to a lot of stuff being destroyed and also serves to shoe people that we are not a recent trend but an integral part of society for as long as there has been a society to speak of. For anyone interested, go look at http://brightonmuseums.org.uk/brighton/exhibitions-displays/the-museum-of-transology/

The aforementioned cinema event followed in the evening and by then to be honest I was struggling, having been out all day and not really had a break or somewhere especially quiet to unwind. The films were fantastic, two in particular stuck with me though. One called Skeleton in a Beret was about a couple of people who used gaming to explore their gender identity, an avenue I’m familiar with in my own way. The other (Mum) was about a family, the mother was suffering from a long term illness, one of her adult children was trans and had transitioned and family relations were somewhat strained. It brought back memories, lets just say that. Again, link below for anyone wanting more information on things http://www.eyeswideopencinema.co.uk/blog/2017/7/11/trans-pride-2017-programme

Saturday was the protest march through Brighton, though not before Rebecca and I raided a couple of comic shops we saw the previous evening and got some goodies. The march itself was as expected, a lot of noise and visibility along with a lot of walking before getting to Brunswick park and having a wee chat with various people we know on Twitter. Then the rain came, then my mood crashed. It was cold, wet, my foot was in a lot of pain by then and we retreated to a pub where some friends were staying for a while before we got a bus back to the hotel. Next year I need to actually plan stuff rather than try and drift along and see what happens. I just feel very unfocused and isolated that way. Tears were shed and pizza was consumed.

Getting ready for the Protest March, before the weather closed in

Sunday was another day out and about with Kate, coffee, lunch and shopping as well as a good chat about a couple of serious things going on. I hope she’s ok now. Again, after a couple of hours out and about I was flagging and needing peace and quiet and looking a bit ill too (which fits given how bad I’ve felt today, Tuesday). Eventually we picked up a small wardrobe of spare clothes Kate was giving away and returned to then hotel. That just left Monday and a quiet trip back home after having spent Sunday evening mostly talking to Rebecca through Twitter as I was trying to get my head and some thoughts in order while having a non verbal spell.

More fun and adventures with my Rebecca and the lovely Kate

The main theme behind this long Twitter chain I was typing out was a theme of feeling a bit adrift and lost, which seems ironic being in Brighton of all places. It was here two years ago a lot of things transition wise swam into focus and I got into gear. I went full time soon after and haven’t looked back. I made some great friends who I was happy to see even if it was all too briefly at times for various reasons this time. Two years down the line I’m at a stage of transition where I’m ready to move forward and sort surgery out, but still waiting for the system. I’m also still waiting to get up and going with my new job, which as it turns out I shall be starting next week, but that’s not all.

Putting things into an understandable concept is hard for me at times. With what’s going on in my head I likened to seeing a load of threads on the ground. Are they mine? Do I pick them up? Throw them away? Leave them alone? Some things I’m sure of, like my gender identity, being madly in love with Rebecca and my gothy/witchy leanings. A lot of other things I’m less sure of and there’s a couple of things I am frankly terrified of picking up and looking at because of past experiences. I suppose I’ll figure it all out in time but right now it’s only adding to this sense of feeling adrift right now.

In the end we came home Monday and to be honest, I was looking forward to going home. I’ve not felt like that when away somewhere for a long while. A few times Rebecca and I have asked if we would go back to Brighton next year. To that I will say yes, but next year I’ll have to do a few things different. First off, next year I need to stay somewhere in town, nearer to events. Being half hour walk away from the hotel messed me up. I needed the room to be close by so I could easily duck in for an hour or so and reset up head when being out and about got a bit much. I stupidly chose our hotel based on the fact parking wouldn’t be a financially crippling issue that it was last year. The logical thing would have been to book in town and taken the train down, like a lot of people do. It would have made it easier to plan things with friends, being nearby. Next year I need to plan going out better. The days where we had planned to meet someone and do stuff worked a lot better than just winging it and hoping.

I also need to do other, smaller things as well. For one, remembering to pack a couple of extension leads in case the power points are miles away from the bed. Packing more shoes better suited for walking around and finally, if I get new clothes, try them before packing them and taking them with me. I had a bit of a wardrobe malfunction in Brighton. Namely I put on a new top and realised it was pretty well see through.

Emergency trainers

On the plus side, I spent a whole day out in leggings and another day out in shorts and at no point worried about or thought about my tucking arrangements. This is nice and is one of several reasons why surgery can’t come soon enough for me. I also paid very little heed to my make-up during the day because the hair removal’s gotten to a point where I can go out for the day and not worry about covering stuff up. On that front at least things are slowly moving to a point of comfort. If nothing else I could go back next year just to add to my t-shirt collection.

I have a collection happening now

Oh well, I’m going to finish up with some other pics from the weekend below. Enjoy 🙂

Yup, travelled to Brighton in last year’s t-shirt 🙂

Perks of our hotel on the outskirts of town. Views, namely of the park. Also, a rainbow while in Brighton, how apt 🙂

Yes, we lost ourselves in the comic shops. Castle in the Sky is mine, a film that left a long lasting impression on me when I was growing up.

Rebecca’s pet bee. It just randomly landed on her hand while we were forming up for the march.

Gender Is A Spectrum

I am only going to say this once: No-one is trying to take gender out of society. What is happening is a steady realisation there’s is far more than the classic ‘two genders’ we’ve been saddled with and had hammered into our heads until recently. Gender, like many other things is more of a spectrum than a series of absolutes.

People are born, some identify as the sex they were assigned as at birth, others don’t. Those who don’t take various steps so they can present as the gender they feel they are. For some people like myself that means transitioning from male to female, or vice-versa. For some, they feel neither one suits them. Some days they feel more masculine or feminine and present as such, or a mix. I know, I used to do this too. Before I worked things out I thought I was non-binary or agender and dressed and presented according to how I felt.

So why am I writing a crash course in gender identity? Well once again I and a swathe of people are yet again having to defend ourselves from bigoted idiots and people who are sycophants to said bigots who should know better than most that toadying up to them is a bad idea. Piers Morgan and India Willoughby for those who aren’t in the know.

The fact the latter is a trans woman of considerable fame, and I presume knows what it’s like to have their gender identity questioned, poked, prodded and outright denied, derided and ridiculed by some is galling indeed, especially given their extremely poor choice of language while trying to defend her attitudes which are coming across more and more as transphobic, sexist and out of touch with what most of us have to deal on a day to day basis.

Siding with a well known transphobic, bigoted idiot like Morgan after his puerile attempts to invalidate Fox Fisher and Owl’s gender identity on national television is a slap in the face to transgender people. Once again we have a celebrity who thinks they’re the big ‘I am’ and profiting off of their transition screwing the rest of us over, either because they are not realising how much damage they are causing through their actions or just showing their true colours, then playing victim when the inevitable backlash hits.

Sorry, but you can’t have your cake and eat it. You want to tell your story and make some money off of it, fine, but don’t you dare shit on the rest of us doing so. You wanted to show the world your transition and show people you can transition and your life can be a success. That is inevitably going to make you a role model to many people who are going through similar struggles. If you want to be a shitty role model, like Caitlyn Jenner, we’ll call you out for it, like we do with her.

You don’t get anything for free. You have fame and money, but the price you pay is you become a role model, like it or not and role models need to be very aware of what they say and do or be held accountable. If you want to continue being a shitty person over all of this, and let’s face it, you are developing a track record for shitting on people who don’t conform to your perceptions (the incident where she invalidated every trans/non-binary person who don’t/can’t medically transition a while back), you are going to fall from grace very quick. The wheel of time will turn and you will become an irrelevance, much like the dross you’re appeasing through your actions. That is a promise and a forecast.

You’re not the only one who’s fought decades to become the person they felt they should be. Some of us are quite capable of doing this without invalidating those who’s journey don’t mirror our own.