Saturday, November 17, 2012

One Month Post-Op

The month that felt like a decade. FINALLY my mind is slowing and the fog and chaos are clearing. Still a long way from feeling "right". Still a great many things going on in my head. But here's where I'm at with my thoughts.

I've had many realizations over the last few weeks, several this week. And yes, my hormones were messed up for awhile which was just like a catalyst for everything else. Two weeks before surgery I was required to stop taking the medroxyprogesterone and spironolactone. In two weeks time my testosterone shot up from 10 to over 400. Left me an hysterical mess the last few days. Was flipped out over the documentary film crew not coming. Was a mental case about getting pre-op pics taken. Had a dozen or so breakdowns those final days right up until I was knocked out for surgery.

Then I woke up. And within two weeks (again) or maybe less, my testosterone plummeted from well over 400 to 6. So I went from short tempered, hostile, and crazed to emotional, traumatized by everything that happens, and generally overwhelmed in like 4 weeks. All of this is a major piece to the puzzle of what the hell is wrong with me. But this is just one piece of a far more complex clusterfuck of things going on within me.

One of the more significant realizations I had came a few days ago. In true geek fashion this knowledge was imparted onto me by Master Yoda. Star Wars episode 3: Revenge of the Sith. Anakin Skywalker was having nightmare visions of his wife Padme Amidala dying during childbirth (giving birth to Princess Leia Organna Skywalker Solo, and Luke Skywalker). The whole reason he went to the darkside and became Lord Darth Vader was for love. But the nightmares drove him crazy. So he sought out the power to stop the ones he loves from dying. Being mislead by Chancellor Palpatine (Darth Sidious aka The Emperor).

Getting off topic a bit there. But at one point he goes to Master Yoda seeking advice. And he tells him about his nightmares.  And Yoda tells him to overcome his fear he must learn to let go of that which he is most afraid to lose.  And I realized something right then.

As those who heard me speak that week after I returned may remember me saying.  I feel like I had to let go of everything for my surgery.  My Crohn's Disease was starting to flare up pretty bad.  My health was questionable.  My mental state even more so.  I felt that I had maybe a 40ish % chance of not surviving my surgery.  I told this to only two people (and a third figured it out on his own).  I was scared surgery would be canceled if I said anything to anyone.  And I fought so hard to get to that point.  Even though I was full of doubts and almost canceled it myself, I knew I HAD to do it no matter what!

So I left.  With my dad to San Francisco.  I saw everyone I could before I left.  Felt like I was going through my bucket list.  I said goodbye to my friends, to their families, to their pets.  Said goodbye to those I love thinking I may never see them again.  Said goodbye to my own cats.  Said goodbye to my mom who despite her bat shit craziness, has always been there for me in her own fucked up way.  I had to let go of everyone and everything.  I had to accept the fact that the sexual relationship I was in and LOVED would never be the same if it even continued.  Had to sacrifice my own body parts.  Which for someone that's masturbated like 5 times a day every day (or more) for 20+ years, was difficult to say the least.  My house, my stuff, my life, my memories, everything.  All left behind.

Yes, there was a greater chance of things going right than I calculated.  But in my mind at that time, during that last week, I had to accept that I was willing to let go of EVERYTHING just to be myself.

And then I had surgery...  One month ago.  Wednesday, October 17th, 2012 at 11:30a.m. PST.  Forever etched in my mind.

And things went perfect.  And it was great.  It IS great.  More than great.  There are no words to explain how happy I am with things physically.  But, there I was, post-op in San Mateo, having a great time in my new life.  And when it came time to return to my old life. I did NOT want to.  I really, really did not want to.  I didn't want to go back to all the problems and misery and crappy old house, and financial issues and all that.  I didn't want to know how much everything would change or how different it would all feel for me.  But I had no real choice but to return.

The flight back I was antsy, fidgety, and restless.  The second we landed I had nothing but issues.  Issues with the airport, wheelchair to get out, with my mom driving on the ride home, with everything.  I was just miserable.  And I snapped.  I couldn't deal with being back in my mom's house.  Crammed in that little room with everything I own.  No space, felt claustrophobic.  HAD to get out.  So I threw what I could into my car at like 2a.m. and moved to my dad's.  Because it was the only place I could afford and get to right then.  Leaving my cats and my mom and everything behind again.

Then for the first few weeks I felt so in between.  Most of my stuff I use, my clothes, my computer, the things that mean something to me, all here at my dad's.  But my cats... my mom... my past...  is still all there.

Then I finally got to see my friends, talk to my friends, hang out with them.  And it wasn't the same either.  I realize now after much thought that when I left I let go of everything.  I had to let go of my feelings for everyone too.  When I left, it was like everything here, all of South Florida was dead to me for those first 3 days.  I clung to a few things.  But in the end, those final moments, I let go of the love I had for everyone and everything that was my life.  Because I was, in my chaotic state of mental breakdown and unbalanced hormones, fairly convinced I wasn't going to make it through surgery.

Nothing and no one mattered as much to me when I got back.  This is why I was able to leave my mom's house.  Leave her and my cats behind.  And a lot of my stuff.  This is why I've had trouble talking to and hanging out with my friends.  This is why I feel so detached from my old life.

Before surgery, like a few weeks before.  I had this big plan.  I was going to come back, sell some of the less valuable collectibles on eBay, then use that money to get a table at Supercon or something to sell the better more valuable stuff.  Had 2 other money making things planned too.  Was going to use that money to move out and maybe roommate with a friend or something in a couple months.  Had a lot of plans.  But then all this happened and everything was thrown into chaos.

Well, my testosterone was 6 the other day.  My estrogen is starting to go up now since my doctor changed my meds again.  Everything is starting to be clear in my mind.  I feel like the dust and smoke and flying debris and shrapnel and stuff have all hit the ground and I have a clear view of my life.  But what do I see?  I see a wasteland like someone dropped a tactical nuke (or decided to do Fire Storm in the middle of the battlefield taking out both armies including the good guys and the dragon that was on our side).  And in the middle, me, looking awesome as hell.  Like some beautiful statue erected in the middle of ground zero after the huge explosion.  I stand there, looking great, feeling great, physically and now mentally.  But emotionally distraught because I am looking around at this devastation that was my life realizing that I am the bomb that blew it all to hell....

Not 100% sure yet how to fix the mess I've made of my life since I got back.  I've pissed off some of my closest friends.  Hurt those I love.  Left my mom in a situation she can't handle on her own.  Left my cats behind.  Left my stuff behind.  I have no money.  And I'm living in a mostly empty room with nothing but a cot, a dresser, and a small handful of my stuff.  The house is my dad's.  My car is my dad's.  I have less than a dollar in the bank.  In fact, the ONLY thing I have left is this damn computer.  It's all I have that I can say is mine and mine alone.  The only thing of any real value that's left.

But then I had another revelation, realization, whatever.  A friend of mine, post-op transwoman that had her surgery exactly 24 hours before mine, posted a video blog on YouTube that made me think about a few things.  First off, transitioning is hard.  That seems obvious but it's good to remember.  And, as a transperson I can create who I am.  I can make my own experience however I want it to be.  What I need to do is somehow build my life over from the ground up.  I need to reevaluate every aspect of it and make it how I want it.   Not sure how to do that but the realization that I can do it is a big deal to me.

And as for my friends.  Yet another realization.  I did let go of everything.  But that doesn't mean I can't reconnect it all now.  I realized this thinking about a friend of mine.  He's been the one friend that I have felt like our friendship hasn't changed.  Everyone else it felt a bit different.  And I realize now why this is.  He was the first friend I saw when I got back.  And in fact the only friend I saw that first week back.  And then again a couple more times.  We reconnected.  That's all it was.  That's all it took.  Just spending that much time with him, it made it all feel like it used to.

Then the second friend I saw after coming back.  Someone I love probably too much.  We hung out, but in a setting with others where chatting wasn't possible most of the time.  So things still felt odd.  Then we hung out for a little bit a few days later and things felt better, but still off.  And we talked and texted and things feel pretty normal now with him too.  I mean still a bit distant feeling but better.

Seems so simple.  All I need to do is go one person at a time I guess.  Hang out with them, preferably just them where we can talk and I can find that connection again.  So I guess what I do is go systematically through my friends one-by-one and see who I reconnect with and who I don't.  Literally rebuilding person-by-person, step-by-step, from the ground up.

I guess I start by apologizing to everyone?  Seems so... not good enough.  And how can I help my mom?  I won't go back.  And my cats...  My mom doesn't want to let them go and my dad's afraid to bring them here because they'd kick his cat's asses most likely.  And I have no money...  I feel so alone.  I know I'm not.  I know I do still have a couple friends out there that haven't been caught in the maelstrom that is my life.  But I still don't feel the love I had for a lot of people.  Most people.  I still feel... cold...

So that's where I'm at.  I feel like I understand what has happened this last month better than I did.  Short version, too much at once left me distancing myself from everyone and everything, perhaps too much.  I made a huge mess of things.  I understand it better now.  But am still a long way from knowing how to fix everything.  No idea what my life is going to end up like in a few months.  Common sense tells me to go slowly.  Deal with one person at a time and one problem at a time.  Jumping back into my life will end up like that night a few weeks  before surgery when my dumb ass thought it would be cool to take a running, jumping leap, in a string bikini, into a cold pool, at like 2am or 5am or some crazy time.  Into the 5 foot side.  STILL have a scar on my left foot from that one.  Sometimes yelling "Geronimo!" and leaping into shit is not the best idea.  Really.

I've got a busy week this week leading up to and through Turkey Day.  Going to take another week to keep myself fairly distant from most of my friends so as to not further screw things up or piss anyone off.  Going to take some "me" time.  Have laser hair removal this week, and the 14th Annual International Transgender Day of Remembrance.  Then Turkey Day.  Variety of errands and stuff.  By next Saturday though I will return to my life, slowly, very, very slowly.  And pick one person at a time to contact and hopefully reconnect.  I will start rebuilding who I am, what I'm doing, where I'm going, my goals, future, plans, income, living arrangement, all of that.  Baby steps.

As for how my physical health is now at one month post-op.  Overall, great!  I have issues, yeah.  I have questions, yep.  But still, great!  Issues I have?  Well, the lower, outer, quadrant of both breasts is totally numb.  The inner, lower, quadrant of both feels like it used to.  The top half is hyper sensitive.  That seems odd to me.  I may be wrong, I dunno.  And I get a funky pinching feeling in my other new parts.  My brain could tell you exactly where that feeling would be on my old parts but where it is now I am not even sure.  I can't even pin-point where this pinching feeling is now let alone why it's happening.  And then there's this funky feeling that feels like an erection.  Just started today.  What's that all about?  It's not the same feeling I've been getting from being aroused.  It's yet another unidentified sensation.  And there's a couple things that I can't figure out when looking at stuff.  Things I sort of need to be in front of a doctor and point at to even ask what's going on.  Not something I can put into text at all.  And I still have that nagging worry and fear I can't shake about having an orgasm.  I haven't had one post-op and still scared that I might not be able to.  I know that's almost certainly not the case.  But until it actually happens I will be super stressed and worried about it.  Not to mention the overall sexual frustration I'm feeling.  Again, I used to masturbate a LOT, like all the time, my therapist insisted I'm a sex addict based on that.  I think that's a bit extreme.  I said "ex" therapist right?  Yeah.  And then there's the dilation.  It's getting better I think.  But I'm also now getting another strange pins and needle feeling sometimes while doing it.  And I am still VERY much struggling to use the medium size.  Can't do it every time even.  And that worries me too.  Then there's the strange tight area about two inches in that I don't know if that's muscle, pelvic bone, scar tissue, or from the prostrate.  And I think I lost some depth though I'm not sure how.  I have been going to the same point on the dilator since I started.  But out there they said 5.5 inches.  And I measured where I'm getting to and it's more like 4 to 4.5 inches.  Don't understand that at all.  Anyhow, overall things look great, feel great, but still lots I don't understand.  Definitely can't complain though.

So happy one month to me!  And happy one month to my friends Sarah and Erin should they read this!  Yay us!  heh

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