People live through many good and bad times in their lives. If you are trans, signing up for some type of reassignment surgery is just one more of these. No one reading my post should think that deciding to get SRS, preparing for it or moving on afterwards is a world of rainbows and unicorns.
Doing this, having my genitals altered to match my gender has been the single most difficult thing I’ve ever done. It has left me, until I return home this weekend, alone and lonely, feeling cut off from friends and loved ones. I sat in bed sobbing last night missing my spouse who is to become my ex.
I had contemplated having this surgery for about ten years. I used to be awake with insomnia and I would research the procedure. Then before going back to bed I would carefully erase all my history so nobody would know. Even at that moment, a dichotomy was established change and lose my family or stay and it turns out almost lose myself.
After the first year full time had passed by, my spouse and I realized that our temporary stay of execution had expired. I was now in a position to really decide. I had been thinking about it since I started therapy, and I knew I wanted it done, but I also wanted to save our marriage. After I admitted that I am likely hetero as a female, a decision happened to divorce.
I met with my surgeon and another last July and for a variety of reasons chose a date a week ago. This started a clockwork of stuff to be done. On top of this I needed to move to an apartment as part of our separation. I found a GYN for post op care, unpacked completely, had pre op testing done and prepared the apartment for post op.
Lastly I needed two therapists letters signing off on the surgery plus one doc for the insurance company. I had to apply for paid FMLA leave to recouperate and make travel and hotel arrangements.
You’d think that having this all in place would be comforting but it led to many sleep deprived nights thinking about what I wanted to do, and whether my reasons were really good enough.
My travel was fraut with a sense of unreality and I prepared for surgery. I removed clothing and donned gowns. I was walked to the preop area just outside the OR. I had on a brave front, but there was this enormous tension in me to know I was at last there. Also my last chance to change my mind.
I sobbed deeply when I felt safe and once i recovered they wheeled me into the OR. I moved myself onto the table, they covered me with warm blankets and fixed an oxygen mask to my face. Then nothing until I woke.
It’s hard to explain the feelings one has waking up, I thought I’d maybe be estatic, but then I was sleepy and a few other dwarves too.
As I got more and more awake the best description I can give is peaceful. I had done it. I had removed a set of obstacles and introduced a time for healing body and mind. But I had not fully understood the impact.
One of my main goals was to feel more congruent, but I couldn’t have imagined the impact. Good, but a little overwhelming. That last vestige of my male self had held some baggage attached and that was drifting away.
Yet there was enormous tension too. I had little panic attacks and tried to figure out what was causing them. I feared that I might have regrets despite not having any desire to be put back. Although I will say that things aren’t as convenient as before.
Maybe a simpler explanation existed, like being alone, isolated, mourning a marriage of almost thirty years, no longer living in our familiar home of twenty five, only just a few weeks earlier seeing some thawing in my relationship with our daughter. Gee, was that stuff maybe it?
The cost of SRS? Planning and preparation, angst, anger and despair, living with yourself and the results even if it isn’t how you thought it might be. Living away friends and community at one of the most difficult times of my life.
My isolation has moderated, friends have answered my plea for contact.
Do this if you need it, but expect bumps and one hell of a major mental adjustment.