Male to Female
The Last 3 Months: What a Whirlwind
I couldn’t take it anymore. I haven’t been here writing in over 3 months, and it finally got to me. I have a good excuse though. It’s called life. It somehow got in the way, and that’s a good thing.
As transpeople, sometimes we forget that there’s more to life than just our transition. It can cause a level of depression once transition is over and you begin to integrate into regular life. I’ve been fortunate enough to not have to deal with that.
In September, after 6 months of job searching, I finally landed a job with a very prestigious company. It is amazing and I will definitely write about my job hunting experiences soon.
Besides the hustle and bustle that comes with starting a new job, I spent the last 3 months going through relationship ups and downs. Learning to date as a transwoman brings an interesting revelation on people and intimacy. I will expand on those details in a future article as well.
When I started working my new job, I would find that coming home to an empty house was very lonely. Because of that my therapist encouraged me to start going out and doing things and meeting new people. So I did.
I joined a few meetup groups, began having dinner with people, going to special events, as well as doing other things like programmer events. Staying busy five nights a week made it hard to find time to write. This is one of the reasons that I have not written in the last 3 months.
I am anticipating that 2016 will contain a lot more writing and more stability in my life. I think I’m finally at a place where I can get this work, life, family balance in just the right quantities.
Here’s to no more writing droughts.
A Love Worth Fighting For
More than a year ago, I lost my marriage because I had lied for so many years about who I was, even if unintentionally. I really thought that I could save it, and I believed that it was completely worth fighting for. While I still believe that marriage is worth fighting for, and my marriage was one that I fought hard for, I am now a firm believer that my marriage was better off being retired.
Talking with a friend, she asked me what value I got out of my dating relationships since my marriage. When my marriage ended, I thought that I would never find someone who would love me as I am, much less someone worth fighting for. However, it turns out that I have learned quite a bit, and did get some specific value out of my dating relationships since my marriage.
Lena (name changed for privacy) was the first person that I met after my marriage ended. Lena was drawn to me, as I was drawn to her. Neither of us could figure out why we were drawn to the other but we were and our friendship took off quickly. The friendship went from getting to know someone to feeling like you knew them forever. We both confessed our desire for so much more, but unfortunately there was too much distance between us, and neither of us would ever have the opportunity to be near the other, so we resigned to the position that we could only be friends but never lovers.
At this point, I became content knowing that it would be a while before I ever dated again. That’s when Carey entered my life. Carey was unlike any other woman I had ever known. We had so much in common and we were so compatible in so many ways. We dated for about four and a half months before circumstances beyond my control ended our relationship. Once again I was enduring pain similar to my divorce. I never thought I would experience that pain so soon.
So when my friend asked me what value I got out of my last two relationships, I was immediately brought to these two memories. Lena gave me hope that I could be loved for who I am and that everything was going to be okay. Carey gave me a love worth fighting for.
Needless to say, if I ever decide to get married again, it will only be to a person who shows me a love worth fighting for.
Thailand: Day 27 – The End of One Journey, the Beginning of Another
My last full day in Bangkok, and my last Sunday here. I decided I wanted to attend church at the Bangkok campus of Lifepoint Church. Lifepoint Church is where I gave 6 years of volunteer service to make Sundays a place where people could come worship Jesus, before they told me I was not allowed to come to the church, any campus, dressed as a woman. I thought it would be quite poetic that I was attending a 3rd campus, not only dressed as a woman, but with a full female body too. Oh the irony.
All that aside, I got up, got myself ready, and went down and ate breakfast before grabbing a taxi over to the church campus. The driver had a little trouble finding the place because he had never been there, but Google Maps led us right to the front door and I arrived about 15 minutes before the service started. I walked in, only to be greeted by a familiar face from my hometown. She thought she recognized me but felt like she couldn’t put a name to the face. I told her my name, but it still wasn’t ringing a bell for her. Fair enough, because she hadn’t seen me in about 2 years, a LOT had changed in those 2 years, and she didn’t know my new name.
I then saw another woman that I knew from my hometown as well. She too thought I looked familiar but couldn’t quite place the name or face. It was then that I told them my old name. At that point, both their eyes lit up, their jaws dropped, and they both exclaimed, “WOW!!!!” I love seeing that reaction on peoples’ faces because it reinforces the notion that when I’m being myself, they absolutely can not tell that I have ever tried to be anything else than who they see in front of them. I am natural in who I am.
After a little bit of chatting, I found a place to sit and waited for the service to start. The worship team came out and prepared for the music portion of the service. There was a guy playing acoustic guitar, a girl singing with a shaker, and another girl singing as well. It was very much an acoustic version of what I was used to, but it was nice to have that change of pace for once. The music was great, and the songs familiar. I even got to sing a song in Thai. I have no idea what I was saying, but it was pretty cool just to be able to hear some sing in English and some sing in Thai. Truly a wonder of global worship.
When the music was over, the pastor came up and introduced himself. He would speak a few sentences, then wait for the translator to translate what he said. This was the M.O. of the entire service and was interesting to say the least. I can’t help but think that more sermons would be better understood if the pastor had the same amount of time as always, but was forced to slow down and make sure that every word counted. This is what happens when you have to wait for the translator.
The sermon was on Exodus chapter 2, where it was explained who Moses was and how he came about. The sermon touched on the fact that Moses’ parents knew he was wonderful, not because that’s what every parent thinks about their children, but because they belonged to the tribe of Levi and they had faith that God had a plan. When Moses was a baby, Pharaoh called for the death of every baby boy born within the last month. He did this because he did not want the Israelites to grow a strong army. The sermon also touched on how his parents tried to hide him until they could no longer hide him, not because they were afraid, but because they knew it was what they had to do. Eventually they gave in and threw baby Moses into the Nile River, but first they gave him a little boat to sail in.
This allowed them to follow the edict that Pharaoh had called for, but still allowing for God to work His plan, His way. Baby Moses ended up sailing up to the shore, right where Pharaoh’s daughter had come to bathe. When she found the baby, Moses’ sister was nearby watching to see what would happen. Pharaoh’s daughter noticed immediately that this was a hebrew child, and decided to keep him and make him her own son. Moses’ sister came up and asked if the princess would like her to find a hebrew woman to nurse the child. Being told to do so, his sister went and got his mother, unbeknownst to Pharaoh’s daughter. Pharaoh’s daughter then paid Moses’ mother to nurse and raise him until a time when he would come live in the palace.
There are a lot of parallels between the story of Moses and the story of Jesus, whom the entire bible is about. A king tried to have baby Moses killed, a king tried to have baby Jesus killed. God had a plan that saved Moses, God had a plan that saved Jesus. Moses had a purpose of freeing God’s people from slavery to Egypt, Jesus had a purpose of freeing God’s people from slavery to sin. The parallels go on and on, but what struck me was the irony of it all.
God used Hebrew women and Pharaoh’s own daughter to free the Israelites. Imagine that, in your life are two forces. Those that are telling you what to do that isn’t loving, honorable, or just, and God using you to do something bigger than yourself. What’s more ironic is God using Pharaoh’s own daughter to free the very Israelites he’s trying to keep down. I can relate. Called to follow Christ, everyone loved me as long as I looked like them, acted like them, and they could relate to me. As soon as God called me to work in a way that everyone else thought was wrong, all of a sudden I was no longer worthy to even be allowed into God’s house or to be considered part of a local church body, part of the family. In the end, my faith never changed and my love for others became greater. Sometimes God’s plan is funny, strange, and ironic.
Moses’ parents did not let their fear control them because they knew God had a plan. They fought their fear and stress with faith in God. When I was called to this new journey, I was scared. I wasn’t fearful, just unsure of what would come next, however, my faith in God helped me push through all the stress, allowing me to arrive on the other side. Now, just days away from the 2 year mark of this new journey, my life has become so much more, so much greater than I could have ever thought. I took a risk trusting the voice that I knew was God. Like always, it has paid off in a much greater way.
Every day we take risks. From the food we eat, to driving in traffic, to the people we meet, risk is all around us. Everything in life is a risk, but following God is a different kind of risk. The risk of following God has a huge reward. I can attest to this in my very life. I risked that I would be rejected, ostracized, bullied, assaulted, even murdered. My own family feared for my safety as I began this journey, but I had to use my own faith to assure them that God is in control. I still have my family with me. I still have my kids with me. I still have all the friends that really cared about me with me. I still have the ability to do my job. I am still alive, I am still breathing, I am a new person, not only in my heart, but physically as well.
So today, as I’m ending my journey in Thailand, I am beginning a journey of living out the new life that has been bestowed upon me. I am excited about what the future holds, finally feeling completely at peace with myself physically, and mentally. No longer will I deal with the hormone based depression that plagued me all my life. I am a new creation. No longer will I hold contempt in my heart for those who are different from me. I am a new creation. Compassion will rain down on others, from me, who struggle with this life they live in. I am a new creation.
I am a new creation, ready for this new leg of my journey.
Watch God be glorified in my new life.
Thailand: Day 23
It was dark all around me except for a little light starting to break through the shades. I rolled over and waved my hand over my phone so the clock would appear. 5:57 AM. It never fails that you wake up just a few minutes before the alarm is supposed to go off. I laid there until 6 and turned my alarm off.
I got up and spent a few minutes preparing myself for what would be the next 45 minutes of non-enjoyable, medical intervention, that has become a norm in my life. Once that was complete, I hopped in the shower and got myself ready for the day. My friend and I went downstairs and had an enjoyable breakfast before I headed to the lobby, to wait for the driver to take me to my follow up exam with the surgeon.
I tossed my donut pillow into the back seat of the driver’s car, grabbed the handle over the door, swung myself in, sat down and got comfortable for the ride. It was a bumpy ride, and I’m not sure that my new parts have forgiven me yet, but we made it to the doctors office and I went inside. As soon as I arrived, they handed me a small envelope that had a letter that I could use for the airlines to get some special treatment. We’ll have to see how well that works.
I was taken upstairs to the changing room, where I was told to remove all of my clothes, all of my jewelry, and to put on the surgical robe. I was then ushered into the exam room, where I was told to sit up on the table and lay back, placing my legs in the stirrups. I felt just a little exposed and, believe it or not, I can see all you women, who are reading this, snickering and smirking. The surgeon came in and proceeded to inspect his handiwork. He confirmed that everything was healing absolutely perfectly and even went about cleaning me up. It was over before I knew it and it was not painful at all. I was then escorted back to the changing room where I put all my clothes and jewelry back on and went downstairs to wait for the driver.
I came back to the hotel where I relaxed a little bit before my friend and I headed out to visit the Erawan Museum in Bangkok. The Erawan Museum is a 12 acre garden and museum that houses cultural, religious, and historical artifacts of the nation of Thailand, which was also known as Siam. It is famous for its 44 meter tall, 3 headed, copper elephant, that also doubles as a Buddhist temple.
The garden was absolutely beautiful with waterfalls, statues, lush green vegetation, and a cobblestone pathway all the way through the garden and around the main temple in the middle. It really reminded me of something my grandmother would have enjoyed, as her house was filled with all kinds of oriental artwork and statues. We proceeded into the bottom of the museum, which was a circular path that led from room to room. Each room was filled with various pots, jars, and models of different things that taught about the history and culture of Thailand. Once we had walked through that, we then proceeded to the inside of the temple. We were required to remove our shoes and cover our legs because our shorts did not go below our knees. This was done in order to respect the culture of the Thai people.
Inside the temple, there was a massive staircase that went up the center and then split at a statue of Buddha, each side going around to an upper level. Above that, you could take an elevator up to the next floor, where there were more altars, and a staircase leading up to the main portion of the temple, inside the elephant’s body and head. It seemed that everything inside the temple was adorned with jewels or carvings that told the history of the Thai people. It was a very beautiful sight to see.
When we were done, we grabbed a cab back to the hotel so that we could rest while I attended to my medical needs. After a bit of resting, we decided to go to the mall next door and eat at a little pizza shop in there. So off to the races we went, with more walking, and more enjoyment of the sites of Bangkok. The mall was not too terribly crowded for a Wednesday night, but there was some kind of promotional deal going on in the main center of the mall with a lot of cars and motorcycles. There was also a DJ who had the speakers so loud that the bass was shaking the walls in the stores nearby.
We enjoyed our pizza, some buffalo wings, and a couple of Thai iced teas. After we paid for the meal, we began to walk around the mall. I have been wanting to get something for my kids, but I was not sure what they would like that I could find. I’m not big on buying things here that I can get at home. I would like to have something unique that you can only get in Asia. Combining the uniqueness, with something that my kids would like and enjoy, has been a real challenge. We walked the mall for an hour and then headed back to the hotel.
Back in the hotel, it was time to wind down, watch TV, and once again attend to my medical needs. I laid in bed doing my thing, while my friend and I watched The X Files. I eventually took the time to rest, talk to some friends online, peruse Facebook, and let sleep slowly take me over. A perfect end to a perfect day.
What’s in a Name
She was so beautiful. Her long blonde hair, gorgeous eyes, and pretty smile. She was wearing a cute skirt and top with the Keds tennis shoes on her feet. It was the first day of 2nd grade and I was drawn to her. I thought she was cute but I wasn’t drawn to her because I found her attractive, no, I wanted to be her. She was stuck in my mind for many years and I never forgot her, even to this day.
I was talking with a good friend from high school and she asked me how I chose my name. I referred back to that girl from elementary school and how I admired her so much. Her name was Ashley.
The name spoke to me. It carried with it the idea of a fancy princess. The daughter of elegance and royalty. I wanted to be a pretty princess. I wanted people to look on me and admire the beauty that had been bestowed upon me.
My brother is 9 years younger than me. Had he been born a girl, my mother would’ve named him Ashley. I so hoped he would’ve been a girl because I loved that name and I wanted it in my life. He was not, but it is probably for the best, for I may have been more jealous and more dysphoric than I already was.
When I embraced my natural state, and contemplated that I might transition, I jumped at the opportunity to take the name that had been in my life for so long. It felt good to think of myself as that pretty girl with the elegant name. Of course the next battle was to figure out what my middle name should be.
Thinking on my middle name, I wanted something that would roll off the tongue really well, and match my first name to complement it. I tried a bunch of different names but nothing felt right until I finally came across Nicole. It blended well with Ashley and felt very elegant and nice. As a nod to my Czech heritage, and my paternal grandmother who I adored so much, I chose to change the spelling based off of the Czech version of the name Nicole. I spelled it Nikole.
I knew that my mother had wanted to name me April. I liked the name April, but there were already too many Aprils in my life and it felt odd to use it. A few months later, while sitting at lunch with my mother, I brought up the topic of my name. I knew that she wanted to name me April but I did not know what middle name she wanted to choose for me. I asked her what middle name she had chosen for me if I would have been born a girl. She looked at me and said, Nicole.
In that moment, it was as if God was confirming that the path I was on, was the path that He wanted me on. Here I was, becoming the person that I always believed I was deep down inside, but was so afraid to show to the world. Being able to choose a new name, a name that my own mother liked enough to choose for one of her children, was an amazing experience. To top it all off, I had chosen a middle name that my mother has chosen for me without me ever knowing.
Getting to be myself, is an immense treat. Living authentically, no longer filled with depression or anxiety, is a blessing far beyond any other blessings I have received. I have a name placed upon me, that not only had my mother chosen but I also believe God confirmed my path with, is something that I do not think I could ever make happen on my own. To God be the glory in my life.
Thailand: A Diverse Epiphany
She was standing at the end of the food counter gathering food from the serving dish onto her plate. She was wearing a pretty yellow dress with lace along the top of it. Her beautiful blonde hair laid down beyond her shoulders, and her face was lightly dotted with freckles that contrasted with the lightness of her skin.
She walked towards me, and when she arrived where I was standing, in front of the chef making omelets, she asked me, “Is he cooking your food?” Her smooth, feminine, British accent was a nice sound to my ears. I told her yes, that he was making my ham and cheese omelette. Turns out she had ordered the same thing before me and he was actually cooking her breakfast. Once she received it she said, “Nice talking to you. Enjoy your breakfast.” She walked away and headed to her table to sit down and eat her food.
I continued around the breakfast line, looking for various items of food that I was interested in trying. At the end of a long row of tables sat a young Finnish girl who was tall, with long brown hair, and glasses. She reminded me much of the bookworm that was always sitting alone in the school cafeteria, the kind that nobody seemed interested in associating with. She was very quiet and solemn. She sat tall, but you would not know it by her hunched over shoulders. She quietly ate her breakfast and then quickly left to go back to her hotel room.
I went back to my table and sat down where my friend was eating her breakfast. I noticed two young women come into the breakfast area and proceed to where the coffee was. They were having issues with the coffee machine and were interacting with a waiter who was helping them get what they needed. They began to walk around the breakfast area viewing all the different types of food available to them. Both women were dressed very conspicuously. Each of them was wearing a very short skirt with very tight tops. One of them actually had a full one piece dress. The one wearing the shortest skirt seemed out of place but I could not put my finger on it. Her hair was slightly ratty and her figure was very slim and straight like a board. The more I observed these two women, the more I was able to put my finger on what I was unsure of earlier. In the end, the lack of food on one of their plate settings tipped me off as to who she was and why she was sitting there.
The beautiful french girl on the other side of the room did not stand out to anybody else. She was conversing with her interpreter and every time she interacted with a staff member of the hotel, her interpreter was there by her side. She was dressed very nicely and would be what I would call a classy lady. Her long dark hair was done very nicely and seemed to be styled properly. She did not appear to wear too much makeup but enough for her to accent her feminine features.
There I sat, eating my breakfast, in my denim capris, gold studded, dark gray top, and white sandals. My hair was pulled back into a ponytail and I was not wearing any makeup. In fact, I was probably two days late for a shave. As I set there consuming my breakfast, a thought crossed my mind and I began to ponder the attributes of all these people, including myself.
Five different people. 5 different walks of life. Ages that ranged from older teenager all the way up to middle age and perhaps beyond. At least three continents of culture represented in that moment. The one common factor that brought them all together was a medical anomaly that caused their brains to be wired one way while their bodies formed a different way. In one moment I felt connected to every single one of those people, and in the next moment I realized that the rest of the world was absolutely wrong.
I have heard people say that it is a mental condition. I have heard people call others like me, delusional. Some have even gone as far as to say it is simply the result of a sexual fetish, molestation, or an addiction to pornography. I cannot speak for the 4 other people and their experiences in their lives, but I can speak for me and I know that none of those things are true. I was never a victim of any form of molestation. I had 2 parents who I lived with and who loved me unconditionally. I was never abandoned or smothered by my mother or my father, and I now know I was never addicted to pornography.
While I do not know why I was chosen, it was so wonderful to see this condition affect others across cultures, people groups, and continents. To know that I was not alone in my journey, and the very anomalies that make me who I am, are also in other people all across the world. My God is a diverse creator. He knows when we all wake up and when we lie down. He knows the number of hairs on every single one of our heads, and he commands the new ones that grow back or disappear when hormones are changed. My God has given the knowledge to the surgeons that help us to remodel our bodies so that they may match our minds, and allow us a more consistent and better quality of life. He controls the cells that regenerate to help me heal the best that I can.
Like Jesus said to Pilate, nothing happens without my Father’s permission, and I am thankful that He has blessed me in this place, in this time. Of all the places in the world, and of all the time in human history, I am here, now. To God be the glory of this diversity.
Thailand: An Introspective Journey
If this journey has taught me anything, it has taught me to continually think about everything I say and everything I do. Being bedridden, and not being able to move a lot, or even wanting to move a lot, means I’m not doing a whole lot worth talking about, and I have a lot of time to think about all the decisions I’ve made in my life, even the decisions that have brought me to where I am today.
I have a lot of friends on Facebook who are transmen and transwomen, and I am constantly seeing their experiences, their questions, and their comments to the world around us. One of the trends that I see is people posting their before and after pictures. It is interesting to watch how others react to where a person used to be and where they are now.
When I see the pictures of the transmen, I am floored by the ones who did not previously identify as butch. It is unique to see a beautiful, blonde haired, buxom woman in the before picture and to see a scruffy, handsome, buff man in the after picture. It is hard for me to relate because I think, why would such a beautiful woman not want to be a beautiful woman. The reality is that person sees themselves as a man as much as I see myself as a woman.
The introspection comes when I begin to think about my own life and where I was in the past. I try not to let myself dwell on the thoughts that maybe if I would have been healthier, or had a better body, or presented myself as a better male, then I could have survived, in that place, as that person. I have to ignore those thoughts because I have had those thoughts for decades. I even field tested them for decades, trying to be the better man, trying to be a great husband, trying to be a wonderful father, and trying to be a great role model, in church, in work, to my family, and my friends. It never worked. I was constantly depressed. I was constantly filled with anxiety. I was a terrible husband. I was a less than admirable father. Even my work and my interactions with my friends suffered because of it. Until I transitioned, I never had a really close best friend who was in my life, except for one who lived 800 miles away.
Today, over two years after discovering this thing called gender dysphoria, I have a bunch of really close friends who I hang out with on a regular basis, and communicate with freely and openly. I wake up every morning with a smile on my face, knowing that today I get to live in this world completely authentically, and I am now capable of seeing the things I can offer to the world. I have a new and profound understanding of compassion and love because of my experiences. the reality is, I am a better person because of the decisions I have made that have brought me to the place that I am.
As I peruse my Facebook feed, I begin to feel sorry for the people who lash out against same sex marriage, who lash out against Caitlyn Jenner receiving an ESPY Award, who lash out in the name of their faith, a faith that claims the same name as mine, but looks nothing like anything I’ve seen or known before. I feel sorry for them because they lack compassion in that moment. I feel sorry for them because they think what they give is love, but it is not love. I see them call people like myself, deceived, but I believe the irony is lost on them. I believe my experiences have given me the opportunity to see the world through the eyes of Jesus. It’s something that I had asked for, for years. Sometimes I think that is a curse more than a blessing.
Lord willing, I will have 40+ more years on this planet before I head back home. In that time, I’m sure I will always be reminded of how I wished I could have done more. I am glad for the reminders of the past, they help me understand that I am on a journey, that I must look forward and continue moving on. I do not worry too much about the future, for today is hard enough to deal with. If anything, I know this. Many may think that I have done something wrong, something bad, something sinful, or that I am delusional. I pray that they will find the authenticity to live their lives for who they are, without ridiculing others, so they too can wake up every morning with a smile on their face.
Thailand: Day 14
Woke up this morning with the huge need to evacuate my liquid waste system. This is something that is going to take time to get used to. It is nothing like the way it used to be. Sitting and urinating for guys is not the same as sitting and urinating for women. I’m not even sure how to describe it without getting graphically detailed. Anyone interested in that can message me privately.
So my friend and I got dressed and headed downstairs for breakfast. Finally, I was able to get out of the room instead of having my food brought to me and being luke warm at best when I got it. We got downstairs and the smells were lovely as was the spread of food.
I went through all the areas and picked a bunch of food that looked good, or at least worth trying. I started with some Yakisoba, roasted potatoes, ham, bacon, chocolate danish, and a meat and vegetable omelet. I also grabbed some chocolate milk because…chocolate milk.
There’s something interesting to be said about the different culture and their food. In America, at breakfast time, there is a small subset of foods, but here there are so many cultures that they must present to, that the food array is quite wonderful. With Japanese, Korean, Chinese, and Thai culture represented in this city, the collection of food is actually quite pleasing.
We headed back up to the room so that I could attend to my daily medical needs. I really hope at some point this gets easier and less painful. I’m sure it will, but it’s just going to take time. I can’t even imagine going up to the largest dilator. Hopefully stepping up to it over time will help. It’s very scary and intimidating. I’m going to need a nap after this.
I laid around for a little bit, but you can’t keep a good developer down, so I got up and decided to work on my personal portfolio project. Since my nurse has not cleared me to roam around the city, I have to improvise and entertain myself in my hotel room. I actually got an opportunity to fix my email. Turns out that when you use your own cell phone number as a backup it’s kind of hard to use that when you’re in another country and don’t have access to your cell phone text messages.
Of course that time came and went, and it was time for me to do that wonderful medical stuff that I have to do 3x a day. I have to say, sometimes I think that this is the worst 30 minutes of my life, but I think it’s because my wounds are still fresh and my incisions are still healing. Everything is tender, so it hurts a little bit each time I have to do it. Of course that 30 minutes came and went and it was time for me to get back on my computer and continue working.
Later my friend and I went downstairs and had dinner in the lounge diner while we listened to an Asian man play the piano. He seemed to enjoy playing old Elton John tunes. I had a club sandwich with French fries and we shared an order of fried spring rolls between us. At the end of the meal I realized how close we were to a scheduled appointment I had so we hurried back upstairs.
I jumped on my laptop and made 3 different phone calls, all job interviews with recruiters. They were very productive and hopefully will lead to something good down the road. I did my dilation routine for the evening and then my friend and I settled down and watched an episode of The X Files. A perfect end to a fabulous day.
Thailand: Transition within a Transition
Oh my gosh! That was the most interesting experience of my life. I do not know how to describe it anymore than giving you the imagery of a magician pulling colored scarves, tied together, out of his sleeve.
The nurses came in this morning and removed my packing. The packing is all the gauze that the surgeon put into the vaginal canal to keep it open for the first week while it heals properly. Once they remove the packing, they use a speculum to check the quality of the healing inside the vaginal canal and then they get a baseline reading of what your depth is.
Getting a baseline reading is an interesting thing. Turns out they use a plastic rod that they put inside of you that has inch markers on it. The rod is by no means a phallic shape other than that it is long and cylindrical and has a rounded end on one end, but it is about an inch or so wide so basically they just measured my vagina death with a dildo. I’m 7″. I suppose I can walk around telling people I’m 7″ now. I think I’ll keep that to myself.
After I ate breakfast, I got the opportunity to finally take a shower. I have to say that it was so nice to just stand in the hot water and relax. Of course I couldn’t do that all day, so I washed my hair and my body and got out. It felt so good and so relaxing and refreshing.
I then went back to doing a lot of laying down, surfing the internet, and watching TV, because that’s pretty much all you can do when you’re trying to recover. I cannot sit for very long because it puts too much pressure on my groin, even though I do have a donut that takes a lot of pressure off of it. Baby steps. Baby steps.
The next morning, I woke up and waited for my nurse to come and visit and check all of my progress, as well as to show me how to do my dilation. I get a daily visit from the doctor’s nurse every day of the week except for Sunday. She comes and checks my progress, makes sure that I am doing well, and answers any questions I may have. Today the topic at hand was teaching me how to dilate, a procedure I will have to do 3 times a day, 40 minutes each time, for the next two years.
The vaginal canal is made of skin, and like any skin on your body, it wants to heal itself by fusing together. Dilation is simply a process that will allow the skin to stay apart while it heals and sets itself in stone. It’s kind of like leaving your earring in your freshly pierced ears until they heal so that they do not close up permanently.
The nurse arrived and set up everything that I would need to dilate, and then began to show me exactly what I would need to do. There’s really not a lot to it. Simply lube up the rod, insert it and then hold it in at full depth for 15 minutes. Easier said than done, at least in these early days. The further you push the rod in the more painful it becomes because it begins pushing against the back of the canal, as well as pushing around anything inside your body cavity that might be in the way. Once they were able to get the rod in the full 7 inches, it wasn’t that bad sitting there and relaxing for the 15 minutes.
When that was done, we cleaned everything up and put it away until the next day. The next day consisted of dilating twice in a day, for 20 minutes each time. It was still very painful and, I presume will be painful for weeks or months to come, until I get settled into a constant cycle of dilation. Eventually the cycle will consist of 3 times a day at 40 minutes each with 3 different stint sizes. Did I mention that as time goes on, I’ll be using additional stints that actually get wider? Eeeek!
Today was my first day to dialate 3 times in one day but that’s not the most interesting part. I actually had my catheter removed today. That was an experience that I will never forget and would like to never repeat either.
It started with the nurse removing all the tape holding the catheter in place. Then, she began to insert a small syringe into an exit port of the tube that allowed her to suck all the excess urine out of the tube. I could feel it sucking on my bladder which was very weird. The nurse then told me to take a deep breath and exhale it out very slowly while she removed the catheter. Can you say burn?
Before I knew it, she was done and all the burn was gone. After the nurses left, I proceeded to do my dilating and then I got in the shower and let the warm water run over my body while I stood there relaxing, long enough to let all the equipment work at its natural state. I didn’t realize I was peeing, but I opened my eyes and noticed the yellow pool at my feet so obviously I did.
After a good cleaning, I got out of the shower, got dressed, and got myself all ready to face the day, feeling completely new and completely whole. The last few days have been a transition from surgery recovery to living normal. I can’t wait to see what the future holds for me in my new life living on the outside like I have been on the inside for so long.
Thailand: Hotel Recovery
We pulled up to the hotel, and hotel staff were actually waiting outside for me with a wheelchair. I got out of the car, threw my donut on to the wheelchair, and sat down and they wheeled me into the hotel and up to my room on the third floor. I was so thankful that I did not have to walk anymore. I got to my room and got my clothes off and crawled into bed.
The hotel portion of my recovery hasn’t been much different than the hospital portion except, I have less TV channels to access and I have a little more variety in the food that I choose to eat. Back at the hotel, my diet could change to soft and semi liquid foods, so while I could eat the full contents of a bowl of soup now, I was also able to eat more soft foods like scrambled eggs. Having access to things like soda makes this portion of the recovery much easier.
I spent a lot of time sleeping, and waking up long enough to eat and take medicine and maybe watch some TV, before falling back to sleep. My body has been very tired. Even when I do very little, I am exhausted like I have run a marathon.
This routine lasted for a couple of days and then the nurses came in and changed up the game. They removed all my bandaging and cleaned everything up and then simply taped the catheter back down. I was finally bandage free, even though I still had some tape and my catheter on me. This was a huge mental step because, from my perspective, I could finally visualize the results of everything I had gone through. Things were looking up.
I only have a few more days and then they will come and take the packing out. Once they do that, I can probably take a shower, as well as begin the arduous task of dilating. But for now, I will leave you knowing that all I’m doing is laying around, watching TV, eating and sleeping. It’s a pretty boring life.
Shedding Shadows 