surgery over

Well, it is a while since I last posted on here. Due to computer troubles etc, I have been somewhat adrift.
While in hospital for the latest op I did scribble a few notes though.
Early in September the letter came through to notify me of the admission date for surgery. It was an early start to the day. I had to be on the plastic surgery admission ward to 0730am. Fortunately it was not crowded. To be honest though I was nervous. There is that common denominator of having to undress and put on the ubiquitous hospital gown. Deep joy though, the hospital provided gowns that fastened on the side, thus preserving dignity. Small details but they make a world of difference. Seeing the surgeon my trepidation grew. This was not going to be such a simple op as first thought. Many women have a boob job and think little of it. This was more complex. Basically, breast reconstruction. The surgeon had to incise old scar tissue and reopen old wounds. Also, he had to go below the chest muscles. The surgeon explained what it would mean, drainage tubes, more pain, longer healing. He was honest but gentle in his explantions,for which I was grateful. Once I had seen the clinical team, been marked up by felt tipped pen, came the long wait. I tried to read but could not concentrate. Not having had anything to eat or drink since the previous night, as per pre op instructions, my mouth was dry and I craved a cuppa. Finally, not long after 11 am, a theatre nurse came to collect me. I was surprised to be actually walked down to theatre. Odd, walking down hospital corridors and being in a lift naked except for a hospital gown and felt slippers. Led into the prep room, I am instructed to lie down on a trolley. A quick check by the anasthetic team and then another short walk actually in to theatre. Something I have never experienced before. I try and remain calm but suddenly reality bites, this is scary. Lying down on another trolley. People bustling around me. my gown is drawn down to my waist. There is little room for dignity in theatre. Sensors arestuck to my chest and back. There is almost a sense of panic, fear. My breathing is arratic. Overhead an array of surgical lights. I hear more people arriving. Out of my periphial vision I can see people, anonymous, shapless, dressed alike in blue hospital scrubs. A low murmur of voices. The clink of metal on metal makes me cringe. The anethatist looms over me, he wants me to gargle a local anathetic and then swallow it. Yuch, it is foul. I fail to gargle enough and have to endure a second dose, almost gagging on the awful taste. My throat goes so dry, sort of numb. My anxiety goes up a few more notches. Someone takes my hand, raising the vein. They talk soothingly as I automatically flinch when a canular needle is inserted. Then blackness, nothing.
As if from a great depth, I surface slowly, I can hear someone moaning. Dimly I am aware that it is me. Pain, pain, pain, hurting. I can hear myself mumbling, not aware of what I am saying. later I am told I was I was talking about my ice axe, it sems I thought I had had an accident with it???????????????? Blurred figures talking to me, as from a great distance. Slowly I become a little more aware of my suroundings. Someone explains they are administering more morphine to control the pain. Eventually it is decided I am recovered enough to be taken to the ward. I am giving a trigger device that controls my morphine input. it is pre set so that I am only allowed a limited dosage. The night is passed in a foggy nether world. The following morning I am given a blanket bath and allowed to rest. There are the constant two hour checks through the day. Slowly the pain settles down. The surgeon and his team do their rounds and he offers reassurance that the op went well. A couple of days later and I find that the dressings are actually hurting. it appears there was a reaction to the dressings. As they are peeled off, skin is removed too. large blisters have formed, some septic. Antibiotics are prescribed, along with all the other meds I am recieving. An infection in the actual wound causes concern slowly though, it begins to clear up. It was to come back several times over the next few weeks and after my discharge I had to change my own dressing and clean down. Drainage tubes where left in for twelve days and overall I was in hospital for 14 days. stitches where removed after three weeks. Support bras had to be worn 24/7 for three months and at times proved very uncomfortable. Things are still sore, recovery is slow. Regrets though, no, my only regret is that I was ever bulldozed in to ever having breast reduction. On that point I am bitter. All this could have been avoided.

many years on

Finally I am due for breast surgery. This is such a muddled area. So many bad memories, so much confusion. Many years back it was recognised I was gender disphoric. However, the prevailing view was, 'society has decreed, thus there is nothing that can be done. That was a very turbulent time in my life and in many respects my life was not my own. Due to so called profesional people's ideas I actually had breast development. However, I was shunted in to a partial breast reduction. Pshycologically that was traumatic, very. Physically it was painful, not helped by the fact that I had an infection with it. Even now I am still tender in those areas. Another down side was the amount of scar tissue involved.
It is odd really, after all that, that even now I still want to go through breast reconstruction. Maybe so, but I feel driven. there is a compelling urge to have this done. How can I be half a woman? It is there in my mind. Like a nagging toothache. Going through life wearing prosthetics is not what I want. In some respects I am torn down the middle. The surgeon has already warned me, this is going to mean pain. He may have to cut through old scar tissue. Due to the fact that I am no longer as young as I was, healing is going to take that much longer. Oddly maybe, but one thing does through my mind, how well am I going to manage earing a rucksack again? From what I can find out, in all probability it will hurt for a while.

random thoughts

Well, this side of things is my personal side. Thoughts, ponderings and so on. If you visit then please do so with consideration. Your comments are welcome but do remember these are sensitive issues.
Someone commented the other day about the fact that I had gone through surgery etc. They reflected the views of many, a,that it was a drastic step to take, b,that surgery was the b all of everything. Not so, it is only another step along the way. Another popular misconception that is that it is just a form of castration. A total misconception, the surgery is very complex, it is a complete restructuring of one's sexual organs. Basically, I have vagina, if I so wanted, could have sex as any other woman. That is what makes the op so complex. The surgery itself is only the start of a long and somewhat difficult process. After surgery the new vagina must be kept open, it needs to be stretched etc. The procedure is termed dilation. For the first few months it is an uncomfortable procedure. At first, while stitches are in place, painful and then slowly things ease. It has been a major learning curve in many areas, including personal hygene.Going for a pee on the hill has suddenly become more complex too.
Well, I did not intend to go there but so many people ask and are curious. Dilation is something I still have to do, even out on the hill.
It was mentioned just a few days back, "Well, you chose to go down that path" Yes, in some respects I did, in many ways though it was a question of driven by necessity. I would argue that no one in there right mind would go through this just for the heck of it. The screening process is very strict here in the UK. Ok, I know that one can go abroad. in fact I know of at least one person who has done so, paid huge sums of money and then realised they have made a mistake. Life can be tough living in the role society has allocated you when you know you are different, when you feel unable to fit. way back when I was a kid I knew something was different, wrong, whatever. I battled against that. One common problem with many transgender people is they over compensate in an attempt to fit. they go to extremes. Been there, done that, got the tee shirt; and suffered the consequences. Even joined the army and was thrown out as a danger and theat to the moral of the troops? true, I have seen the paperwork.
One problem I still have is that I am over sensitive, acutely self conscious. Often I wear a mask, I bluff, become an actor. I smile and present a face that says 'I am cool, am fine'. Inside though I am churning away. certain physical parts of me cause me problems, my hands and feet are a constant source of embarrassment. Sitting on the train not so long ago, hearing two guys discussing me quite openly. 'Paper bag job that one' 'Nah, that's a dyke, must be, got a face like the back end of bus.' Strueth wouldn't like to meet up with her on a dark night.'' Look at 'er though, she's built like a brick shit'ouse'. Confrontation solves nothing, it is a question of smile and say nothing. Even out on the hill I am uncertain of people.
There is facial reconstruction that can be carried out. To be honest though, at my age is it worth it? Apart from the cost, having spoken to several who have had it done.; the results of which are very good, but the pain and agony that follows reconstruction puts me off. A full facial op means every bone in the facial area is broken and re shaped, hundreds of stitches and staples are put in, inside the mouth too. A constant supply of pain killers have to be taken through a tube. Maybe vanity will win and I will go for a general face lift.
For me personally, relationships still suffer. that has been a problem all my life though. the difference now being that I am growing that much older and miss companionship. over the years I have worked hard to get this far, got on top of manic depression, have got to a stage of managing my own life far better than I used to; relationships are an area that still remains blank. Certainly I have tried and have payed a heavy price in the process.
Soon I must think seriously of quitting my job. having no reserve funds, no investments etc, makes this a major decision. Work though is becoming too much, too physical. I have lost strength and get tired more easily. The pyhsical demands of work are starting to affect my health.