10 Month Post Op Update

Wow, I'm now into my 11th month since GRS and things are going great.  Even though any complications I had seem far behind me, they told us that full healing would take a whole year.  I guess I still had a few questions, like what was that mysterious swelling that caused me to get an ultrasound, was everything healed alright inside and was the area that had the granulation and silver nitrate treatments going to be okay?  All of those questions and more were answered last week when I finally went to a gynecologist for the first time and had a full physical exam from my regular doctor.

Going to the gynecologist was an affirming experience overall.  I drove a couple of hours to see this particular doctor as she came highly recommended and is someone who's worked with trans women before.  The office had mailed me paperwork which I brought in with me, so the processing nurse knew of my condition before we sat down to talk. 

The only "trans" question she asked me was if I'd had the surgery and when it occurred, even though I had stated that on the paperwork.  This discretion was a good thing because there were other people in the adjoining waiting room who might have been able to hear that conversation.  Considering that a lot of the women in the waiting room were pregnant or had babies with them, some aspects of being in that office did highlight (in my mind) some of the differences I have with most other women.

When I finally got to see the doctor, she interviewed me in her office for awhile before going to the exam room.  She asked me about my surgery, hormones, mammograms etc.  She asked if I'd had breast surgery as she looked at my top and asked me what was going on there.  I guess just me and a slightly padded bra was enough to make her question that.  She's very nice and about my age so talking to this doctor was very easy.  I hoped that the exam part of the visit would be as easy.

Luckily, the exam wasn't bad at all.  I had to take off all my clothes, put on a gown and lay back on the table.  First she felt around for glands in my neck and abdomen.  She did ask me if I'd had throat surgery, apparently because of my lack of a discernible Adam's Apple.  A lot of trans women get that done along with GRS (a couple of the girls in Montreal had this) but it was something I didn't think I needed. 

Next she did a breast exam in which she noted that I'd had good results so far from hormones and that I needed a mammogram.  I think this is a standard thing for doctors to request but I really don't think I need one, having only been on hormones a little over 3 years. 

It's like I am a 15 year old girl in that respect but then again we take a lot of pharmaceutical estrogen and progesterone, so maybe there is an elevated cancer risk.  Anyway, it looks like a mammogram is in my not so distant future.  When checking out of this office I scheduled that test for October and the lady at the desk asked me to bring records of my old mammograms.  I didn't want to ruin the moment by telling her this would be my first.

The vaginal exam was thorough but surprisingly easy.  The doctor felt around my outer labia, which is a routine part of the exam, and could not find the little lump that had been a big concern for me just a few months ago.  I haven't been able to feel it lately either and the discomfort if caused me when crossing my legs etc. is gone.  So I guess that is just one of those things they never can pinpoint but that did resolve itself on its own.

I feel that my vagina is very tight and from talking to other post op women this is not unusual.  In a lot of ways that's a good thing, but I was a little worried that it could make the exam more difficult.  She did the exam with her fingers and speculum and it was easy, so there was no need for worry.  She asked me what kind of tissue was used to make the inner lining of my vagina and the truth is I don't know.  I never learned the specifics of the operation, as I would be sleeping anyway.  That it was a penile inversion surgery is all I know.  This doctor did tell me that the vaginal wall was mucous tissue which explains why I am able to get moist there, even enough for sex without artificial lubricant sometimes.  Apparently she has seen other patients who have a different type of tissue there.

It's nice to be able to tell my doctors that I am sexually active with my boyfriend and that everything is going great in that respect.  I don't think my experience is completely typical, but I am able to have orgasms more easily than I did before the surgery.  I'd always heard, and was expecting them to be more difficult to achieve but possibly more satisfying after surgery.  In my case now, they are easier to achieve, often multiple and very often more intense than before my operation, as well as generally being much more satisfying because I now have the right part for me.

In the end, she said that I had a normal looking, functional vagina and that everything was fine.  I did get a prescription for Estrace cream, that is applied into the vagina with an applicator.  She told me the amount of estrogen from the cream is like a drop in the bucket compared to the hormone therapy I'm already on.  This cream is supposed to help with vaginal elasticity and was one of the things I'd wanted to get from this doctor as I've heard good things about it from my friends.

There is some scar tissue where I had granulation and treatments for granulation, but they are fading as well as the general surgical scars.  This doctor told me that they looked like normal scars from a regular woman who's had labiaplasty, so they do not necessarily give me away as trans.  She also told me I would not need labiaplasty, or a stage 2 surgery, which was encouraging to hear.  I am truly done with all the "trans" surgeries, having escaped with only having to do one.

*****

I also saw my general practitioner (GP) last week.  We had scheduled a follow up to my Bell's Palsy episode and it was also time for another physical.  There is a problem with my thumb that I needed to talk to him about as well and you will be hearing more about that in future installments.

As far as my Bell's Palsy, I am rating it 97% gone.  My voice therapist recently did another evaluation of my voice, partly to see if the Bell's had any lasting effect there.  She found some slight anomaly that showed up on a graph and may or may not be a result of this palsy episode (as it didn't show up before).  At any rate it really doesn't affect my voice to the naked ear or affect the way I am gendered.  She said I'd achieved the mastery level of voice feminization which I guess is not too surprising because I never get called sir anywhere, even on the phone, and really don't have to think about my voice anymore.  After my last couple of sessions with her I will be done with voice training too.

The only thing my doctor's evaluation could only find was slight asymmetry in my smile, which I believe I had before but don't remember for sure.  I realize that there are a few lingering effects from the palsy (for instance the affected side of my face gets "tired" sometimes) but they get better with each passing week.

He also wanted to give me a full exam as well as take blood work (which I haven't gotten back yet).  He decided not to do a speculum exam to look inside my vagina, because I'd had one a couple of days earlier. 

This is the same doctor that started me on hormones back in 2012 and last gave me a physical before I left for Montreal.  He has a couple more post op patients but I am the only one who's been with him from first hormone through the complete sex change, so I know he was anxious to examine me and I was glad to show him how far I've come in this ~ 3 years.

This doctor always has a nurse in the room when he examines me with clothing off, even though it was a different nurse now that he's changed offices.  I guess that's just his procedure as the gynecologist didn't have anyone in the room when she examined me.  Anyway, I am not nearly as embarrassed to take my clothes off these days, which has been a positive effect of my surgery.

He also asked me if I'd had breast surgery and when I said no he said I had grown there since he saw me last spring.  As he was examining me he told the nurse my breasts were from the (hormone) replacement therapy.  He then took a look downstairs and asked me a couple of questions about being sexually active, which I was glad to answer.  He made note of everything being in the right place, clitoris, urethra, vaginal opening, so everything is normal and looks good.  Great reports!

July 2012

Since I'd posted it recently as a throwback picture, after the nurse left I showed my doctor this photo from 3 years ago.  It was taken on my way to see him after I'd been on hormones 2 months and was going to get my dosage doubled.  After that my transition took off and has not slowed down.  I did not reduce my hormone dosage after GRS.  In fact I changed to injections and have higher estrogen levels now than I did before surgery, so I am still changing a lot in just about every way.

The one thing that hormones could not change I addressed with my surgery in Montreal and today I could not happier with the outcome or my "decision" to have it done where I did and when I did.  For me, GRS was the missing piece of the puzzle for sure.

When I showed him that old picture I told my doctor that wherever I go people treat me and accept me as any other woman.  In fact, few know that I am really trans.  He prefaced this statement by saying that I Am a woman, but he told me he wasn't surprised to hear that, and that I look like any other woman with my clothes on Or off.  Hearing that from the man who started me on this (physical) transition truly made my day.

Stigma

There is a stigma to being different.  I guess a lot of people feel it for different reasons to various degrees at some point in their lives.  Personally, I've felt it strongly since at least time time I entered school as a kid.  People deal with having a stigma in various ways.  Some embrace whatever it is about them that brings upon shame, others go into hiding and some are destroyed by it.

Transgender people have a special kind of stigma.  Most often this feeling of being disgracefully different is the cause of us repressing who we really are and/or secretly leading double lives.  This can be extremely overwhelming and can lead to isolation, addiction, shattered lives and sometimes worse, although some are better at putting on a happy face and leading a "normal life" than others.  In any instance, the dark shadow lives within.

When we come out, Good God, the stigma is suddenly there staring everyone in the face.  It is like having a tattoo on your forehead if people know that you are transgender.  You may be successful at covering it with enough realness, by blending into the world so that everyone doesn't know.  Still, someone always knows.  And they are staring at that tattoo.  Even if they embrace and accept you, you have to wonder what is going on their heads.  What do they really think of you and this strange condition you are now so openly displaying?

I've come to discover that transsexual transition is only about treating your own gender dsyphoria.  It doesn't do a thing to do away with the stigma of being grossly different.  That requires a different treatment altogether.

By and large, you cannot effect how other people are going to react or think about you, so how you cope with this stigma of being trans is all in your head.  It can destroy you or you can find a way to deal with it.

Stealth, going completely underground so that no one (and I mean No one) knows this secret about you, is one way of dealing with it.  This is the old way and used to be considered necessary for survival.  Today, acceptance is more widespread so not as many people choose the option of going completely underground after coming out.  It requires severing ties, telling lies and going back into a closet. 

Closets are usually dark, cramped, uncomfortable spaces.  Prior to coming out we live a type of stealth, hiding from the world.  As I have stated before, personally this is not a situation I want to return to.  It's not healthy for me and for those of us who don't want to completely start over, it is not possible.

You hear of people doing things as extreme as committing suicide even after they have fully transitioned.  Did the dsyphoria not go away or was there some other dark element at work.  Could the stigma of being transgender or the realization that some will never be able to deal with it (family, spouses etc.) be the culprit? 
     
*****

Every trans person defines their own transition.  Just this year I've realized that my own transition is complete.  I've gone from point A to point B.  Although I gave up a career and lost a spouse, I know it's something I had to do and it has been extremely rewarding.  I guess I am lucky in that my transition was successful in curing my gender dsyphoria.  That was my one goal going in, but recently I've realized that nothing has made the stigma I feel from being extremely different go away. 

So, I have embarked on another journey, one of introspection.  I realize now that I have never been comfortable being transgender.  I hated it, hence I hated myself.  I fought it for as long as possible, then I came out and transitioned as quickly as I could.  I wanted to get away from this thing as swiftly as possible.

You know what, it worked.  Bingo, I was cured!  It couldn't have been so easy, could it?  I don't hate myself anymore.  I learned to love myself and luckily also found someone to love me.  Life is Awesome!

But wait, I am still trans.  I'm still not comfortable with that, even though I am finally comfortable with myself.  How do I deal with this awful stigma?   I've always felt like a woman, not a trans woman.  That's one reason I didn't want to transition.  I wanted to be a "real" woman, not a trans woman.  Now I am having to realize that I am as real as I am going to get.  Not only do I not feel pride in being this way, I have to admit to still feeling shame.

Maybe it's just the lingering pain of 4 decades of wrongness, maybe it's the fact that much of society still views people like me in a negative light (that often includes discrimination and violence committed against us), maybe it's the fact that I still worry about what people think of me (in every way), maybe it's the fact that my secret isn't such a secret anymore, but something still bothers me about about being trans.  Inside, I feel the stigma.

The bottom line is that I don't want people to know, but it's a catch-22.  In my situation, for a lot of reasons, some people are always going to know about me.  All the realness I can muster cannot wipe that away. 

I realize I am fortunate to have made it here alive and seemingly in one piece.  I'm fortunate to have been able to complete my transition the way I wanted to and I am fortunate to have a future that could possibly fulfill all my dreams.  The only nagging problem related to this condition is dealing with this tattoo on my head.
       

So I have sort of withdrawn some lately.  I've let fear creep back in to some degree.  In real life I have been fine, just not interacting with friends as much for various reasons.  My family life is looking up and couldn't be better.  But online in social media, except for my private groups, I've tried to sort of distance myself from being trans. 

It's an awkward situation and I'm not satisfied with it.  I haven't been posting blogs recently because right now I generally write about my transition and I didn't want to draw attention to that situation.  Friend request have come in from people I've met who may not know I'm trans and I don't know what to do with that, so I've blocked some so they wouldn't find out.  Otherwise, I've tried censoring the content I post publicly. 

This isn't working in a way that I'm comfortable with.  I don't want to go back to hiding, and partial hiding seems to be a tedious balancing act that's going nowhere. 

So at the end of the day I have to find a happy medium in my life.  I'm still going to be trans.shhh, meaning I am not going to advertise or tell everyone I meet that I am different.  Still, I am not going back to missing out on life or opportunities out of fear of someone finding out. 

Feeling stigmatized is not only not justified, it's not going to hold me down.  I won't let being trans define me but I'm going to have to suppress that creeping feeling that I need to go out of my way to mask who I am in every situation.  Even if I don't embrace it, I have to deal with it.

Reflections On The Solstice

The Summer Solstice.  The longest day of the year.  Somehow it means something although I have never truly investigated it or studied the ancient or pagan beliefs enough to understand it's true relevance on those terms.

Wikipedia says. "A solstice is an astronomical event that occurs twice each year as the Sun reaches its highest or lowest excursion relative to the celestial equator on the celestial sphere. The solstices, together with the equinoxes, are connected with the seasons. In many cultures the solstices mark either the beginning or the midpoint of winter and summer."

I can, however, feel the impact of the solstice.  There is something about the earth and celestial bodies that speaks to me.  Though it speaks not in my native tongue so I know not exactly what it says.  The voices are louder a couple of times a year so I realize something important is going on.

2012, this was a year that spoke to me.  For at least 4 years before it came to pass I looked towards that particular year with hope in my heart.  There was anticipation for a great celestial energy, a fantastic time of change.  Did I plan the fantastic change in my life around this fabled year and it's astronomical events, or was it merely coincidence?

The summer solstice of 2012 was the day I planned to begin hormone replacement therapy, basically beginning my transition even though I had already taken many steps down that road.  I actually got the prescriptions from my doctor on May 15, over a month prior to the solstice.  I considered waiting but I was literally dying to accelerate the process of change, so I started HRT immediately. That would allow me to be on hormones for 7.5 months before my planned transition at the end of 2012, on New Year's Eve.

The solstice did catch up with me in 2012 in an unexpected way, but it was the winter solstice not the summer.  Events in my life just happened to line up for me to make my transition to living as myself (female) full time on December 21, 2012.

Of course this is ancient history by now, but 2012 was the last year of the Mayan calendar and the fabled "end of the world."  The last day was to be the winter solstice and on that day I emerged out of the void, floundering as I flopped onto land and timidly tried taking my first steps.

Embryonic and evolutionary, my transition in 2012 was like the waking of the dead.  Yes, I had declared myself dead not long after graduating from high school.  Several years before that I was overcome with a feeling of dread, a feeling that I was not going to live much longer.  Those feelings finally went away not long after starting HRT.  Life emerged from the void.

Truly my life began on the winter solstice. Was it a cool coincidence?  At any rate, the astronomical events of these solstices took on a very personal meaning that fateful year.


2014, this was the year I was to undergo my great physical change.  Hormones had changed my outlook and feelings inside while also making changes outside, but it was time for me to make the full transition from male to female.  Doctors would surgically (or magically) give me what I was supposed to have born with and take away (or change) what had been a source of discomfort for most of my life.

Predictably, I tried to schedule my GRS (gender reassignment surgery) for the summer solstice.  The closest date I could get was June 16th.  That would at least have me in the recovery center in Montreal on the summer solstice, having just gone through the change.  That didn't sound too bad, so I took the date and waited with grand anticipation.

Unfortunately, my father passed away just days before I was scheduled to depart for Canada and I had to cancel my surgery date.  The new date was set for September 24th, just three days after the autumnal equinox.  Yes, I felt the seasons change while in Montreal awaiting my surgery.  As summer turned to autumn I was simply enjoying the city and being with my loved ones, never once worrying or feeling nervous about my upcoming trip to the hospital.

Today, in 2015, the summer solstice falls on Father's Day.  It's been a little over a year since I lost my dad so the pain is still sort of fresh.  I don't even remember Father's Day last year, so it must have been really grief stricken. Today I visited him at the cemetery, thanking him again for being such a positive influence in my life and continuing to be with me in spirit, always.

Once again, the solstice is a day that carries great meaning into my life.


 

Ask Not For Whom The Bell's Toll

It tolls for me!

Exactly 2 months ago I was diagnosed with Bell's Palsy after noticing some strange things going on with my face the night before.  By the time I made it to the doctor on April 20th, it seemed like the whole left side of my face was frozen.

The appointment that day was with my new "hormone doctor," and just happened to fall within 24 hours of my first Bell's Palsy symptom.  She gave the diagnosis, some steroids for the palsy and my first prescriptions for injectable estrogen and progesterone.  Overall it was a good day, although I was scared the palsy would never go away.

Two weeks later I saw my "regular doctor" and he told me I had been on the Prednisone long enough.  After a couple of weeks on that steroid pill, both doctors agreed the best treatment was to let the disease run it's course.  He also predicted that the palsy would be gone in 2 months.  I feel like I am about 90% over it now so in two weeks there is a chance it will be totally gone, proving my doctor's prediction to be true.  Sometimes, even those "practicing" medicine get it right.

The last 2 months has been a real eye opener for me.  This is especially true of my left eye, which even now appears to be a little more open than my right. The eyelid muscles on my left side were one the things affected by this condition, as well as the muscles on that side that control my mouth movements.

The way this thing played out is that for two weeks the left side of my face was almost completely paralyzed and "drooping."  Then it started slowly getting better with a little bit of improvement noticed each week.

June 3, 2015

People now tell me they can't tell from looking me that anything is wrong, except maybe when I am tired and my right eye isn't as open as the left.  If I give a Big grin, the left side of my mouth won't stretch up as far as the right, but I do feel it is getting there.  The most aggravating symptom that is still lingering around to some degree, is that my eyes get tired or "bleary" if I read or have them active too long.

Most of the time I forget that I have Bell's Palsy, to whatever extent I still have it.  Hopefully when I go to my regular doctor next month for a physical I will be completely over it.  Some people have residual symptoms that can last a long time or forever but if it looks like that's happening with me I am going to ask the doctor to send me to physical therapy or something to finish rejuvenating the muscles.
      

June 15, 2015

While this episode has caused the last couple of months to be more stressful than normal and (for the first few weeks anyway) limited my travel and social interaction, I have come away with a few positives.

One thing I learned, or relearned, is that beauty is fleeting.  We never know what can happen in any given moment to take our looks (or some aspect of our health) away.  This just adds to the list of reasons (which include a history of skin cancer) why I am thinking that facial surgery or other procedures might not be a good idea for me.

Another thing I learned is true empathy for those with any form of paralysis.  It is one thing to feel for someone having a problem, but quite another to have experienced that problem in one form or another.  Not being able to move an area of your body is downright scary.  During this episode I have heard from sooo many people who suffered with Bell's Palsy, or knew someone that had. Most had a complete recovery within weeks or months but a few have lingering symptoms and a very rare few never made any recovery at all.

One of the girls in my TBN group has Cerebral Palsy and will have to deal with issues similar to mine (and more) for life.  We related on this while discussing the difficulties of applying makeup to a numb area on the face, specifically the eyes. 

I just have to realize how blessed I am, how thankful I am for my blessings and how lucky I have been in making this recovery so quickly.  I don't know what other curves life will throw at me but I just can't take any of my blessings for granted.  None of us can.

      

A social media app's analysis of my current profile picture.  This picture was taken yesterday, June 19, 2015.
Exactly 2 months after the first symptoms of Bell's palsy appeared.

*A parting message for those of you who feel stuck, unable to move forward....
"You have to feel it deep inside and the desire to be free will burn as brightly as the midday sun. You have to yearn to be yourself as strongly as you'd desire a bottle of water after a dry day in the desert. Drink of it and once you have the taste of freedom there is no going back."

Tammy Matthews

Trans.shhh

My answer to trans pride and trans* is trans.shhh.

Short of stealth and easier to maintain for those of us that transition in place, trans.shhh is simply a philosophy in which you live your life like anyone else.  There's no need to talk about being trans, brag about it or be ashamed of it.  Some people inherently know and others you are close to you will tell at some point, but to the average person you meet on the street you wouldn't consider mentioning it.

It's simply a fact of life, like having one kidney.  If you have just one kidney you probably aren't going to go around telling everyone you meet you have one kidney or identify as a "one kidney woman."   There is no "one kidney pride."  You may devote time and effort to assuring that those with one kidney have all the rights and opportunities that anyone else has, but yet you realize it's a condition not an identity.

There is a community where people having only one kidney can meet each other (online or in person), discuss the inherent problems of the condition and perhaps develop friendships that go beyond the bond of having this condition.  There is no "one kidney flag."

The one kidney thing is just an example but this has pretty much been my philosophy since transitioning, and I coined the phrase trans.shhh to describe it.  It's not hiding, shunning people or creating another closet. 

Being trans isn't an identity to me.  I am trans because I identify as a woman and was born in a different body.  It's a part of me but the whole point of transition (at least for me) was to become on the outside what I identified as on the inside, not become the condition.

When someone posts something on my wall about trans issues I have to say shhh as I delete it, although I do post my blog (endless self promotion).   I have to shhh my mom sometimes when she wants to tell everybody my story.   It's not really a secret but it is something I prefer not to announce or talk openly about.   People will find out on a need to know basis.

Trans.shhh isn't based on passing.  If you don't think you pass, don't worry about it. Being trans still isn't something you have to announce to the world.   Women look all kind of ways and come in all shapes and sizes.  Do the best you can and try to blend as much as possible.  The in your face "trans pride" or chip on your shoulder attitude won't get you ahead in the real world.

Trans.shhh is simply my philosophy and I am probably the only one who subscribes to it, but if you see me somewhere please don't intentionally out me or I will have to shhh you.

The Finish Line

Everything has its time.  Unless its perpetual motion, with any process there is usually a beginning and an end.  You have a goal and you set off on a journey.  Fueled by a desire and a need that burns brighter than the midday sun, you do all the little things (and the big things) necessary to bring you closer to that goal.  The road behind you becomes longer than the road ahead.  Then one day you look up and notice that you are there.  In my transition from male to female, I have reached the Finish Line.

A couple of weeks after arriving home from my surgical adventure to Montreal, I received a letter from Dr. Pierre Brassard certifying that the surgery he performed had changed my anatomical sex from male to female.  The letter also stated that "Any designation on her birth record and all official documents as male are incorrect." 
          

The question was raised by one of the mother's at the recovery center, "After you have this surgery, are you still transgender?"  Well yes, it's just a medical fact that we will always be this way.  It will always be a part of you but, in my opinion, it doesn't have to be you.  It doesn't have to be as all consuming as it is during transition or as worrisome as it was before transition. 

This is one of the things I am dealing with now, how to transition away from transition?  Does this mean that the journey ends?  Of course not.  Does this mean that the transition has reached an endpoint?  Of course it does.  At least that's the way I look at it.

In my case, I've only been on hormones for three years.  Hormonal changes can take place over 5-10 or more years, so I do have more change to look forward there.  I don't plan on having any more surgeries as part of my transition. 

For me there was only one male to female surgery.  Sure, I may get breast implants at some point even though I don't have to.  If I ever have anything done to my face or body (and I haven't had any work done yet) it will likely be more to stave off the process of aging than for feminization.  Anything else I may have done will be typical of what other middle aged women might get, not as part of a transgender transition.

Some of this is just how you look at it, but perceptions do often change at this point in the journey.  It's a tough mental transition as you ask yourself, "Where do I go from here?" 

The truth is I Never wanted to be transgender.  I fought it as long as I could, then went through the transition.  Now, I'd like to put that label and all that goes with it in a drawer and lock it away in my deepest memories.  Like the haunting images of being in war.  It's just not that easy to lock such a huge part of your heart, soul and experience away.
      

So, now I have my birth certificate.  In the eyes of the state I am me.  All previous records have been sealed.  Having climbed my own Mt. Everest I guess I've reached that peaceful meadow on the other side.  I made it here quicker than I ever expected, but yet it took forever to get here. 

The morbid pain of the majority of my life flashes across the back side of my brain.  I stand on the wet ground watching the black clouds move away across the plain.  Yet I still hear thunder.  Is it growing closer?  Are more storms on the way?  As the journey continues, we will have to wait and see.

At the end of the rainbow, what I found in the pot of gold was sort of surprising.  It was simply being myself.