It’s 7:30am, I woke at 6am for the morning ritual involving what everyone’s morning ritual is. Adequate sleep, still pretty darn calm, and the countdown timer is marking the hours. 22:30 minutes and counting before they push liquid into my veins and ask me to count down from 100. Why 100? You never get beyond 98. Why not 10, or 5?
Today is day of only liquids. It reminds me of Yom Kippur, a day of fast and reflection, and I suspect I will be doing some today on this final ledge before leaving that last small vestige of being a man behind. Yet not really behind since all the skin becomes the labia and the vaginal lining and the glans becomes the clitoris, and subtle work is done to preserve sensation. A small section of the urethra will line the area between the labia and provide a lovely pink mucosal lining as a natal vulva would have.
Over some period of time the new vagina will lose the keratinized cells that guard the external skin and become softer derma only, and any small hair follicles that remain after laser and electrolysis will fade away. There’s some argument over whether the lining becomes mucosal or not, but most doctor’s can’t tell it isn’t original equipment (GYNs can of course but that’s what they do after all).
It is, all in all, no small miracle that a combination of art and technique can create such transformation. At this point the culmination of a century of performing SRS in one manner or another on MtF transsexuals.
In less than an hour our friend R will come by and drive me to the airport. I’m sitting here in black yoga pants, as loose as I could find them. My bag is packed, all 25-30 lbs of it, ready for two weeks away from home. There are a few oddments, pads to protect the hotel mattress, wipes in large quantity, the prophylactic antibiotics one takes post surgery, arnica to reduce bruising, and more panties than normal. I specifically bought a 6 pack at $10 so I wouldn’t feel bad throwing them out when they’re all, well, gross at the other end of all this.
As planned I’m leaving behind a relatively clean apartment. Clean sheets and dishes (despite having folks over for dinner last night). Mopped floors in the bathroom and kitchen. OK, I didn’t dust, but I don’t see any dust to dust yet.
As I wait for the phone to ring I will again think upon my blessings to be surrounded by the richness of people who care. I will meditate on the realization that things are really not important beyond Maslow’s hierarchy of need but love and caring have worth beyond measure.
See you all on the other side.