Well, I'm almost there. After decades of no hope, decades of struggling, and a million hurdles. One month left. Yep, mind-blowing. One month or four weeks and two days or 30 days or a mind-blowingly short 720 hours. Have had 39 years like this yet as the date gets closer I feel a bit rushed for time. Part of me feels like I still have so much left to do to prepare. I'm still missing most of the medical supplies I'll need. And I am just not sure how comfortable the clothes I have will be after surgery. I feel like I need to buy so many things and not enough time or money. I feel like I still have so much to do but really there isn't much left. All the bills are paid. All the plans are made. That which needs scheduling is scheduled. All papers sent, everything filled out, auto-biography done, pics mailed, flight booked, hotel booked, hospital set up, surgeons set up, transportation set up. Surreal. It's all surreal. I feel like I'm going to wake up out of this foggy dream-like state and none of this will have happened. After all I've been through in my life it's hard for my brain to really grasp that this is happening. Seems too good to be true and you know how that usually works out.
Went through quite the emotional roller coaster this last month leading up to today. Didn't help that I had several other, non-transition related, very emotional things happen along the way. But I also had time to think and get away from it all in the middle there.
See, when I first got that call from Dr. Bowers that night at Flannigan's while eating with my parents, I freaked. It was unexpected. So soon. Felt like I had only just left her office! And then with my far too intense memory I was able to visualize myself going into surgery. One day, while at that point where you're asleep but not really. Where you have these vivid dreams you can't tell if it's real or not. And yet you are awake enough to actually control it if you know what you're doing. Well I was in that state. Visualized myself in the wheelchair being pushed into the operating room. With the IV in my arm, the heart monitor, hospital gown, those awful tight leg stocking things. Getting on the hard metal bed. Complaining that it hurts my back while I try to put a hair net on. Talking to the nurses and doctors nonstop because I'm so nervous. And then knowing they're about to knock me out. Seeing the anesthesiologist sit next to me and give me the "I'm going to give you something to relax first. Then I want you to start counting backwards from 100" speech. Knowing once I fall asleep, what I've had for 39.5 years will be gone, permanently, forever... Yeah total freak out even typing this right now. Makes my heart race, I feel faint, adrenaline rushing in my chest, horrific fear, mind rushing, scared that I'm making a huge mistake. Scared that something might go wrong. That I might never be able to have sex again. That I may have medical complications for the rest of my life. So many thoughts all at once, too much. Scariest thing EVER!
But time passed. And as long as I didn't visualize that, didn't think about it or dwell on it I was mostly ok. But then I had a few personal, very saddening things happen. And part of me wanted to just give up on life for a bit. I found myself losing motivation, losing control over my emotions, getting upset a lot, getting aggravated by everything and everyone. Found myself drinking a lot, more and more every day. Was starting to really feel crazy, spiraling out of control and couldn't figure out why. Then, I started to notice physical things. Hair was falling out by handfuls again! Morning erections. Random spontaneous erections. Unusually hot and sweaty all the time. Loss of breast sensitivity. Hostility, short temperedness. Couldn't think clearly about anything. Was making one bad decision or choice after the other. Crazy hungry all the time. Acne breakouts. I was a total wreck for a bit. Even my facial hair seemed to come back in thicker suddenly when it was almost totally gone a few weeks earlier.
It was somewhere around this point that I realized my hormones had to be screwed up. I'm surprised I even figured that out considering I could barely think straight enough to function. So I went to my endocrinologist. And yep, that was it. By a LOT. My previous visit my estrogen was 131 and my testosterone was 10. At this visit she told me my estrogen was 30 and my testosterone was 400+!!!! No wonder! Right? What an AWFUL feeling. Can't tell you how upset I was. So she doubled my oral estradiol and medroxyprogesterone. But right after her appointment I had one with my OB/GYN and he did not like how I described the way I was feeling. He said I needed help quick and that pills were going to take weeks. So he prescribed the injectable estrogen for a couple weeks. The irony of this is that this was the first time in my entire life that my hormones were at what is considered normal levels for a male my age. Before I started HRT my estrogen was 130 something and my testosterone was over 1200. So for the first time my body was operating like a normal male... And I HATED IT! It only helped to reaffirm how much I want surgery. Made me want to castrate myself! NO woman should EVER have to feel like that! Beyond torture, worst feeling I've ever felt.
Well, after some insurance difficulties I finally got the estrogen shot. Felt better almost immediately. By the next day I was calm and could think clearly again. My brain stopped racing in circles and I felt like I was under control again.
This coincided with the beginning of my 10 days of house sitting for friends. What an experience this was. I'll always be eternally grateful for them letting me house sit right then. I had a chance to go to the pool (which is something I have only recently felt comfortable doing again after 25 years without setting foot near one). I had time to meditate, to do yoga, to exercise, to relax. To confirm to myself that I am still capable of taking care of myself, pets and life on my own. The chance to taste freedom again. That feeling of being able to go out at 4a.m. if you want without having to come up with reasons or explanations. The ability to just walk around the house wearing whatever I want, or nothing. To decide what I want to do, when I want to eat, and to not have any of it be dependent on the actions of what someone else is doing (namely my mom). Of course, because my life can never be simple, Hurricane Isaac decided to hit us the last 3 days of my house sitting. While not awful, it did prevent me from continuing to go to the pool.
Well, during those last few days while the storm was passing over, I spent a lot of time laying on the couch watching the Weather Channel and just thinking. And then, while dozing off, mostly asleep, I had another one of my mind wandering visualizations. But this time not before surgery, not even waking up after. This time I saw myself years later. I could see myself happy, I could feel the difference, like I'm not hiding something. How different it will be to be able to say, yes, I'm a woman, without feeling like there's more I should be adding on to that. Without feeling like there's a "but" on the tip of my tongue. Being able to focus on other things finally without having to have my transition take up most of my life. Out talking and helping others. Living in my own place. Going out dating again. Going to the beach. All those things I either haven't been able to do, wasn't comfortable doing, or even when I did them felt like something was "off".
And I realized a lot thinking about that when I woke up. I realized how over these last decades I had given up so many times. I was resigned in the fact that I'd never be truly happy. That no matter how hard I tried to be that person, I still felt broken, disabled, poor, weak, beaten down, hopeless, alone, and not fully a woman. Even though I felt and thought of myself as one. I've always had that nagging feeling that even though I feel like it I'm not, cause there's that physical discrepancy there that no matter how hard I tried to hide I would always know it's still there.
But when I saw myself in the future. I didn't see a weak, pathetic, poor, disabled, unhappy, broken, alone, struggling, transwoman. I saw a strong, independent, healthy, happy, successful, woman surrounded by friends and loved ones. And for the first time I can remember in almost 40 years I feel like that's 100% achievable. That I really can be and will be the person I've always dreamt of being. And that thought blows my mind. It's still surreal. It's so amazing. I still feel like I'm asleep and scared to wake up. But I see hope, I see the light at the end of the tunnel, I see the future I've always wanted and I'm going in the right direction for once in my crazy life.
And so I became excited. Yeah, if I think through the details leading up to surgery I still get horrified and freak out. But I KNOW it's right. And as long as I can keep focused on that dream I'll be fine. I want it so bad I can't put it into words. I NEED this operation more than air at this point. And yes, I'd rather die on the table trying to be myself than live another second or 60 more years in this lie. This body was not supposed to be how it is. And it must be set right at any cost.
My biggest rational fear though has been not being able to have sex. Not being able to have an orgasm. I love sex. I've been told in therapy before that I have an addiction. But that the addiction to sex isn't the problem it's what you do about it. So I've come to accept this. And I'm ok now with the fact that I want to have sex with pretty much everyone all the time. It's not a bad thing. Just who I am. But the fear of losing that is scary as hell!
But I've talked to others. I've talked to friends. Other patients of Dr. Bowers. And not one of them is unhappy. Everyone is the happiest they've ever been. No one had problems or complications really. And they all say everything works perfectly. I've been told by post-op tranwomen that they've had six orgasms in an hour. And that it doesn't feel "that' different. The brain takes time for the nerves to reroute and stuff. Cause your brain will still be acknowledging things for what they were not what they are I guess. Like you think you're feeling this part of your body but it's not that anymore it's now this. Which makes sense. And I hear it takes awhile to relearn how to have sex, and how to go to the bathroom and shower and clean yourself and everything. Much like having brain damage. Have to relearn basic bodily functions. So now, the science geek in me has her curiosity peaked. I still think I'm more excited than anything. But curiosity is building as another strong motivating force. The whole thing fascinates me really.
So, am I scared? Hell yeah. Am I excited? Like a little kid on Christmas Eve. Like a teenage girl at an Elvis concert in the late 1950s. So excited I can barely stand it. Am I curious? Very much so. And am glad there will be pics and video before, during and after because it's all pretty amazing.
What now??? Wait... The thing I'm probably worst at yet most used to doing. No more bumming cigs off friends, no more alcohol at all, increasing vitamin intake (especially vitamin C), continuing to eat healthier and exercise more. And continue to wait... One month... four weeks and two days... 30 days... 720 hours... Tick Tock... Tick... Tock...
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