A month and four days...

A month and four days...

It's been a month and four days since my operation. I apologize for not posting sooner, but I’ve been plain exhausted!

After three weeks of recovery I returned back to work. Everyone says I looked much better. In fact one of the girls I go to lunch with looked at my ID, which was taken when I came out at work, and said that I needed a new ID picture taken. My face had changed so much that I no longer really resembled the other picture. I did get a new picture taken.

Even since then, people have remarked how my face has changed since then. I'll be taking new pictures soon. Much of the swelling has gone down and all the discoloration has gone out of my face. There still is some tightness under my chin which may be from adhesions. I'll be seeing Dr. Z soon and will ask him about it then. Also there is still very little sensation on my scalp and under my chin. Which makes shaving particularly tricky! Parts of my face are starting to have some feeling. Some of which is like an itch but no amount of rubbing makes it go away.

One of the reasons I haven't posted more is from a combination of exhaustion, and post-op depression. I have been pretty much coming home from work and just vegetating on the couch.

Both Dr Z and my physician warned me about this possibility and my physician has given me a script for an anti-depressant. They take about three weeks to get to full effect, but after two weeks I'm starting to feel a bit better. I no longer have the emotional swings that would make me weep looking pictures of kittens, but it has made me a little lethargic. I'm able to concentrate at work now and can start getting back up to speed. I'm hoping not to be on the anti-depressant for too long. I was very happy prior to the operation and I am pleased with the results so I should be at least as happy again. I just have to get past this post-op period.

Today is the first time I have felt good enough to want to post. It's Saturday and I can concentrate on putting my thoughts together for the first time in a while.

As I mentioned before, I have had to learn slightly different techniques for putting my makeup on in the morning. My eyes have changed quite a bit so that has made a difference. Also I use a bit more lipstick now than I have in the past. One of the side effects of the operation, especially the upper and lower eyelid work, was that many of my eyelashes fell out from the trauma. They've been coming back in, but I haven't been able to use mascara until late this week.

Well that’s about all for now ladies. Hopefully I’ll be posting more soon.

-Sandy

A first for me...

A first for me...

Yesterday I did something I would have never attempted before.

I went out with *NO* makeup! I had some grocery shopping to do and I was feeling just a little tired so I just wanted to get the stuff and come back home.

Previously I would never have even considered such a ridiculous idea. I felt would have been clocked in a minute.

I looked in the mirror and said to myself; "This is what you wanted, this is why you went through all this trauma. C'mon girl, just do it!"

I did wear my wig though.

I threw on a t-shirt and a pair of shorts, my sandals and headed out. No foundation, no lipstick, nothing. I felt almost naked.

It was early afternoon when I got to the grocery store. And guess what, most of the women there weren't wearing any makeup either!

And nobody gave me so much as a second glance, everything felt normal.

This is what I have been looking forward to for such a long time!

-Sandy

Christmas Finally Arrives! Epilog

Christmas Finally Arrives! Epilog

Ladies, I could go on at length on what my FFS/BA experience. But really I think I’ll bring it to a close here.

I am now fifteen days past my surgeries and I am feeling quite a bit better. My strength is returning, but I am finding I don’t have the stamina I started with. I expect this shall return as well in all good time.

These procedures are not a quick fix. It will take weeks and months, if not a year before all the changes that were done completely manifest themselves.

Right now, though, much of the bruising has disappeared. I still have a couple of black and blue marks around my mouth, which make me look like I took a punch in the mouth. This too is fading quickly.

My healing has impressed everyone including the doctor. It is not unusual for some patients to look like raccoons for weeks afterwards. I had some discoloration but no real bruising.

When I look at my face right now, I don’t see the old me at all. I’m a little surprised at that. Other people who’ve gone through this for some reason seems to still show their old face but much more feminized. I see a feminine face, but not my old face feminized. Maybe it’s just me. I do find that I have to come to terms with that.

Over the course of my four day stay at the recovery hotel the Doctor visited me every day and he would change the dressing on my incisions and examine me closely for any signs of infection or unexpected changes. He also listened to my feelings and fears and warned me about postoperative depression, which is a known surgical phenomenon.

Lisa was my angel of mercy. She stayed with me 24 hours a day and took care of my every need. She ensured I got my medications on time and correctly dosed, administered to my incisions, and all I ever had to do was whisper her name and she would be right by my side for whatever I needed. She had direct access to the doctor and emergency care so if something did go wrong she knew exactly what to do. I cannot compliment her enough. A spouse, friend, or relative would have been overwhelmed with the needs to care for someone in that condition that soon after surgery. She also prevented me from getting a concussion on one occasion where she escorted me to the bathroom. Upon finishing, I stood up too quickly and passed out. The next thing I remember is that I’m sitting sideways on the toilet and Lisa is holding a smelling salt ampoule under my nose. She managed to control my fall and keep me from seriously hurting myself.

She also performed the day three “Four Hour Shower”. Actually it’s not quite that long but does take at least two or more hours. Basically she goes over every inch of every incision and removes any built up scabbing that can cause scarring and pulled each individual hair stuck under a staple to prevent infection. Then she assisted me with a complete hair washing and body wash. While the clearing of the incisions was tedious the shower felt marvelous. I also noticed I had grown a four day beard. YUCK!! Fortunately I did bring my electric razor with me and managed to get most of the hair off my face.

Both Julies visited me and brought me some wonderful get-well gifts and cards. They were also quite diplomatic in describing how well I looked. Especially since Julie Marie visited me on my first post surgical day. I do remember that I felt particularly, er, less than my best, but she made me smile by being there and making me laugh which didn’t hurt as much as I might have thought.

Our other friend Julie visited as well on day two and by that time I was much more capable of speech in English.

My daughter and son in law came to get me on my check out day. My lovely grandchild did not recognize me. Even after having had all my bandages removed. It took a couple of tries from her mom but eventually my granddaughter looked at me and said SANDY!

A few days later I had to be driven back to the clinic for another post op checkup. Kara climbed into my lap took one look at me and said PRETTY!

Which, considering I was still wearing my nose splint, “pretty” would not have been and adjective I would have used to describe me. But right then when she saw through all the gauze and bandages and said that, I actually felt “PRETTY”.

What I’m finding is that as I describe my experiences here, I am reliving them. And right now that is not the best way I can help my recovery.

My intension at writing these posts and the “You Are Not Prepared” post was to prepare YOU!

I’ve accomplished so much. I read about how some people think this is just a matter of having the money, or the paperwork, or both and a few days later, poof, your gender has been changed.

Or on the other end of the spectrum, there are people out there who are capable RIGHT NOW to move forward with their life. But don’t because of fear of the unknown.

I have tried to make the unknown, less so, and to those with stars in your eyes, I hope I helped clear your vision.

I AM NOT A HEROINE! I did this because I must; it’s that plain and simple. Imagine coming out of any other major surgery. I would imagine that you would hurt then too. All it takes is time and you will heal.

I am healing and will continue to heal for a number of months to come.

BTW:
The man named Ben who I speak so glowingly in my post surgical post is in fact my younger brother.

He has been working with Dr Zurkowski for many years and is in fact one of his main surgical technicians and a very close friend to the good doctor. In fact suggested I meet with him when I came out to my brother many months ago.

My brother stopped by today to take the staples out of my incisions, all 37 of them, and make sure my incisions were healing correctly.

We’ve been joking around with each other for several decades and have long since buried any hatchets between us. He was casual in his speech to be because we’ve known each other all our lives.

The doctor of course drives all the procedures upon a patient but the entire surgical team is responsible for the patients’ health and well being while in their care.

I may have spent ten hours under anesthesia, but Ben stood by the doctor during those ten hours assisting him in ways, I really don’t want to know. The doctor and the rest of the surgical team held my life in their hands. If I didn’t trust them I wouldn’t have gone there.
As you may recall I was looking to these surgeries as the way to expose the woman within me. The Doctor was also my sculptor. This has come to pass.

For the first time today, I put on my makeup and wig and Julie and I went shopping. I could not take my eyes off my reflections that I saw in the stores. I am not so vain that I would ever call myself beautiful. But what I didn’t see for the very first time in my life was the GUY! Every reflection showed me a woman. A woman who has longed to be alive for all these many years. And now she is alive. And the guy markers that always seemed to pop through no matter how I would work on them were gone!

I am one happy woman!

-Sandy(Born at last!)

One last thing: For those dying to know I appear to be settling into a 40D. I have a couple of very happy girls!

Christmas Finally Arrives! Saturday, Post Surgery! (Very Long)

Christmas Finally Arrives! Saturday, Post Surgery! (Very Long)

THIS IS NOT FOR THE SQUEAMISH! BE FOREWARNED!

****LIGHTS ON****

I become aware of some caustic fumes deep in my lungs and start coughing.

My body is racked with agony. In the distance I hear someone saying something to me but I can’t make it out…

Again I feel the fumes in my lungs.

“Come on Sandy, take deep breaths…” I begin coughing again.

“That’s it girl, keep taking deep breaths and try to cough”

The agony now becomes more focused more in my upper chest and face. I wanted to run away from it all.

I say something that I never though I would ever say:

“My God! Why have I done this to myself! What was I thinking?”

Actually, my lips were still numb from the anesthesia and the surgical changes made to them. So as a result, I think what came out was:
“Mwe Fd! Ha ha I dom thr to mslf!”

“Come on Sandy, keep taking deep breaths, you’ll be fine!”

“Here, I’ve placed your feet against my legs I want you to try to push yourself up if you can.”

I pushed some and made a little progress.

A female voice then says “Sandy, I want you to push against me. Ben will help pull you up on the cart.”

I try but I don’t want to hurt her.

“It’s OK, Sandy try push hard against me. Really I can take it. I do this all the time!”

With a massive effort on my part I push against the person holding my feet. I feel arms under my armpits helping to lift me into position.

I try to open my eyes, but the light is too bright and my eyes fill with tears. I’m not sure whether it is from the light or the agony or my emotions. I’m still not conscious enough to make out much of anything.

The pain is nonstop. I think that if I had gone bobbing for French fries it wouldn’t have felt this horrid!

Someone wipes my eyes and asks me to open them. I try but I still can’t focus on much of anything. I can make out some indistinct shapes that I think are the ones who have been talking to me.

I blink a few more times and my vision starts to clear. I become aware of an incredibly tight bandage around my face. I can’t breath through my nose. I can barely move my head because of the constriction from the bandage.

The male voice says;
“Sandy, how do you feel?”

“Mbe kl cp!”

“Try that again, I can barely make out what you are saying”

With a prodigious effort and trying to make every word distinct I say;

“I FEEL LIKE CRAP!”

“Good! That means that the anesthesia is wearing off. Keep trying to take deep breaths. But don’t breath through your nose. It’s packed from the operation. You’ll have to leave it there for the next couple of days. Just keep breathing through your mouth.”

This guy is just a fountain of good news…

“I HURT A LOT!”

“Well what did you expect? You’ve been operated on for about the last ten hours or so, how do you think you should feel?”

I swear, I’m going to hunt this guy down when I heal and beat the crap out of him.

“We’ll get you some Vicoden in a little bit, but you have to stay awake and take deep breaths!”

The female voice says;
“Sandy, when we get you stabilized, we’ll be taking you back to the hotel, OK?”

“WHAT?”

“In a little while we’ll help you to get to the wheel chair and take you back to the hotel…”

“OK”

In my mind I know there is nothing to do for the pain but to endure it. I try to muster my pain mantra but to no avail. I cannot take myself to a different place, a happy place that is away from the pain. It keeps coming over me in waves.

I keep blinking and the light becomes more tolerable and the shapes start to become clearer. I can detect the difference between the male and female staff that were trying to stabilize me, make me conscious and get me moving.

I had entered the clinic just a little past 6:30 in the morning. Only the operating staff was there at the time.

It was now well past 11:00 PM in the evening and everyone except we three had left. The doctor could come back to the clinic on a moments notice if necessary, but actually I was recovering as well as could be expected and coming around after all the anesthesia they had pumped into me quite well. At least that is what I had been told later.

“Sandy, we have to remove your catheter now”

“YOU COULDN’T HAVE DONE THAT WHILE I WAS ASLEEP!?!”

“Don’t worry, this will only take a second. You’ll feel some tugging but it shouldn’t hurt.”

I feel some severe tugging then searing pain.

“OOOOWWWWW!!!!! IT HURTS LIKE HELL!!!”

“That’s ok, Sandy, it’s out now. Yeah sometimes when the catheter is in that long it can get a little stuck…”

I’m going to find the truck that hit me and make sure it hits him! I owe this guy big-time!

Speaking of trucks, I’m still feeling like the truck that hit me actually went around the block and came around for another go at me. Then backed up and made sure he did the job right.

“I’M STILL FEELING LIKE CRAP!”

“Ok, Sandy, we’ll have something for you in just a second. Hang in there, girl”

Like I’ve got somewhere else to go? This guy is just a full of good news.

After what feels like an eternity later someone is trying to open my lips. My mouth is so dry that my tongue doesn’t feel like a part of me. I try to push my lips apart. I feel a part of a tablet enter my mouth. Then the female says “I’m going to put some water in your mouth. Try to swallow the tablet.

I feel a few drops of liquid enter my mouth and like someone dying of thirst I gulp it down. I completely forget about the tablet. It is now stuck at the back of my throat. “Here try again.”

More liquid and this time I manage to swallow the tablet. I wish I had about a gallon of that wonderful liquid they had given me. I think it’s called… water.

“Ok, now, Sandy, we’re going to help you sit up and help you get into the wheel chair.”

All this “we” stuff. I just want to be left alone for about the next ten years or so. Then maybe I could try climbing under a rock somewhere where the pain couldn’t find me.

“OK…”

I feel the hands of the guy and girl help lift me to a sitting position and gently spin me around move my legs off the table. The movement makes the fire on my chest burn more.

“Ok, now Sandy, we’re going to help you stand. The wheel chair is right next to the bed. Just lean on us and we’ll help you get into the chair.”

“OK”

The hands help me to slide off the gurney and as I try to get my feet under me I realize I have to lean on them. I have no strength whatsoever to stand on my own. I lean into their arms and they move me to the wheelchair.

Then I feel hands lift my legs and place them on the footpads of the wheel chair.

The female asks, “How do you feel, Sandy?”

“I FEEL VERY DIZZY”

“So I guess you don’t want to go back out to that bistro we went to last night for a quick snack?”

After some deep mental calculation and thought and sifting through my memories that feel like they’ve been scattered to the four winds, a name comes to me…

“LISA?” The lady from Compassionate Care that I had dinner with just the previous evening. When I thought about it real hard I seem to remember I had a fun time.

“Yeah, hon! I was just joking about going out. You’ll be eating through a straw for the next few days.”

“I’M VERY TIRED”

“That’s ok. We’ll get you to the car and get you back to the hotel and get you bedded down for the night. You did great! You came through with no problems at all!”

“I STILL FEEL LIKE SHIT”

“Well, hon, you’re going to feel like that for a while I’m afraid. You will get better though. Just keep thinking about that!”

“I CAN BARELY SEE”

“Well, your eyes are really swollen right now. Actually it’s surprising you can see anything at all!”

“We’re going to unlock the wheelchair now and start moving you to the car, OK?”

“OK”

I feel the wheels unlock and the chair begins to move. The male voice says; “I’ll open the doors so you can just move her straight to the car.”

I feel movement. Lisa says; “How are you feeling? Are you dizzy or nauseous at all?”

“NO”

“Ok, we’ll be at the car in just a few seconds. Hang in there and keep taking deep breaths. It will help clear the anesthesia.

Soon I feel the night air on my body. Somewhere along the line I realize I have my clothes on. My Einsteinien brain after only a few seconds of deep thought comes to the conclusion that they must have dressed me while I was drifting in and out of consciousness.

Over and over in my head I keep asking myself, “Why did I do this to myself?”

What in the world possessed me to put myself through such agony!? There must be a word that is more appropriate than agony for the way I felt, but I can’t come up with it.

Eventually the memory comes back to me:

“Sandy, you had no choice. You had to run out of the burning building that was your deteriorating masculinity. If you hadn’t taken these steps, you would have been dead by now.”

Oh yeah, that’s why.

“I’M FINDING IT HARD TO BREATH! MY CHEST HURS AND FEELS TOO TIGHT”

“Sandy, you just had breast augmentation. Your breasts are bandaged tight against your body to keep them from moving for right now. Just keep trying to breathe as deep as you can. The bandages are elastic and will stretch.”

Oh yeah, that too… I’m feeling like a bit of a dim bulb. Actually a dim bulb is smarter than I am. My brain just recently checked back in from where ever it went while I was having my “overhaul”.

Soon we are at Lisa’s car. She is going to be taking me back to the hotel. Somewhere in the back of my mind was the thought that if I felt embarrassed before when I was waiting for the doctor to come pick me up, I can just imagine what I’m going to be looking like when they wheel me into the hotel now! About then, really couldn’t care less. My ability to be embarrassed was still backlogged in my brain that was still busy trying to unpack from its vacation.

“Sandy, we’re at the car now. We’re going to lock the wheels and help you into the care, OK?”

“OK”

I appreciate how they explain everything they are about to do to/for me. I really have the mental capability of a hockey puck right about then so this is very helpful.

Much like the gurney, Lisa and the guy almost physically lift me into a standing position and maneuver me into the car.

Someone, the guy, I think, buckles me in.

Lisa gets in the drivers seat. Ben, the guy with all the joyful news and finesse removing my catheter takes the wheelchair and folds it into the back seat.

“I’ll follow you back and we can get her into bed” he says.

Lisa starts the car and we head back to the hotel.

As my brain continues to unpack, I realize that this hotel is one of main hotels that the Doctor uses for the recovery of his patients. They must see people like me roll in all the time.

I think my IQ is up to 12 or 14 by then…

Along the way I fell asleep.

What seems like just a couple of seconds later, Lisa is trying to wake me up and Ben is trying to unbuckle my seatbelt.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I’m thinking that these two have put in a full day’s work on me and would really like to get to bed themselves. I can be so considerate… But I haven’t a clue how to help them.

“Sandy, we’re going to put you in the wheelchair and take you upstairs now, ok?”

“Mo’ ke’”

My ability to speak in English has obviously been replaced by some language not yet known in this part of the universe.

Ben swings my legs out of the car and helps me stand up. He holds me tightly as he swings me around the unfolded wheelchair that Lisa has placed there and locked the wheels. Golly! These guys think of everything! I can feel my IQ hitting a Mensa class rating of 20 or so.

Ben helps me sit in the chair and puts my legs into the footpads while Lisa unlocks the wheels.

I feel like a Raggedy-Ann doll. Actually I kind of look like one also between the bandages and my limp body,

They wheel me back to my room. As part of my pre-op preparation, I had given Lisa one of my room keys. That way I wouldn’t have to bring anything with me to the clinic.

They get me to the room and Lisa unlocks the door.

They wheel me to the bedroom and turn down the bed closest to the bathroom.

“Sandy, do you need to go to the bathroom?”

“YES”

One of the things my brainicac mind noticed was that I felt very swollen. When I looked at my hands I couldn’t see any tendons or veins. Again some deep thought produced the supposition that they had been pumping my body full of saline while I was under and I had absorbed it like a sponge. I would all come out sooner or later. But I was so swollen I could barely make a fist.

I remember from my orchiectomy operation just a couple of months prior, I was under anesthesia for less than an hour. A similar swelling happened there but nowhere near as severe. In that operation I gained about two and a half pounds of water overall. I could only imagine how much I had gained then.

They wheel me into the bathroom lock everything in place, help me sit and give me some privacy.

In the background I hear them talking about how to get me bedded down and how much medication I should have prior to sleeping.

A few minutes later they check on me and help me back to my wheelchair. They wheel me back to the bed and help me to lie down.

Lisa said; “Sandy, I’ll be right her for you from now on. Don’t sit up or try to get out of bed on your own for now. Just call me and I’ll take care of anything you need,”

“OK” I’m such a deep conversationalist. I should go on one of those deep intellectual talk shows like Maury Povicich,

Lisa gives me some pills and more water and says;
“That was the vicoden and valium. Just relax for now. You should fall asleep soon. Just remember don’t get out of bed, without calling for me first OK?”

“OK, THANK YOU LISA”

I try to relax. I’m propped up with a lot of pillows in at about a 45 degree angle. I try to relax.

Lisa says; "Sandy, I've made a wad of gauze. Hold it between your teeth so you can breathe through your mouth. That way your lips won't stick together, OK?"

"OK" I feel Lisa open my lips and push the gauze between my teeth. I can breathe but my mouth feels like a dessert.

My pain mantra does start to help. I take deep breaths and try to relax my body as much as possible.

I close my eyes and feel my muscles relax from the effects of the meds and meditation.

Finally I drop off into a deep, dreamless sleep.

As I feel myself losing consciousness, I ask myself one more time why I did this.

The answer is the same. I did this to save my life. I truly had no other choice. But if I had to do all over again, while I wouldn’t change a thing, perhaps I wouldn’t be skipping into the operating room next time!

-Sandy(it was a BIG truck!)

Christmas Finally Arrives! Saturday, the day of Surgery!

Christmas Finally Arrives! Saturday, the day of Surgery!

Saturday, July 21.

This post may be a bit shorter because I spent most of the day under anesthesia so there may not be all that much to describe…

Even having set the alarm for 5:00, my eyes popped open right at 4:45, I knew I was anxious, but I thought I could make it to 5:00. No such luck. I was wide awake. So I got up and started my shower. This was one of those special showers where you are to use antibacterial soap, all over your body. You normally don’t use that type of soap that way as it can be too harsh on the system, But for pre-surgical preparation it is appropriate. Especially in your hair as they will be working extensively in your scalp but don’t need you to shave your head (thank goodness!).

Even taking my time it was still like 5:30 by time I got done and was dressed in my tracksuit with the zipper front ready to go.

No breakfast, no water, nothing of any kind in my stomach. On a whim I called Julie Marie. I thought I would get her voicemail and leave her a message about how I was getting ready to go and how she was missed at the girls’ night out the previously night.

To my surprise, Julie herself answers. She was up early and was taking her time getting ready to go to work.

We chatted for quite a while. She was so very disappointed missing my last supper.

One of Julie’s disappointments was not being able to see my old face one last time. As it turned out however, Friday morning, our schedules actually coincided and we actually had a few minutes to have breakfast together before we had to rush off to work. So actually she did get a chance to see my old face one last time.

She wished me all the best and hoped everything would go well. About that time I got a call from Dr Z. saying he would be at the front door in about two minutes. So I said my goodbyes to Julie and headed downstairs.

The doctor recommends that you come to the clinic on the day of surgery basically in your pajamas and slippers or comfortable shoes. No hats, wigs, jewelry, makeup. Also you are instructed to wear nothing tight, white, or pulls over your head. The reasons are obvious. I spent weeks looking for pajama sets that would button up on top. Even guy PJs. That isn’t the style anymore! All the girl pajamas I could find all had pullover tops and the guy pajama tops consist mainly of a bottom, and a robe. I guess that guys can either sleep bare chested (I guess that’s supposed to be sexy) or they could wear a regular t-shirt (maybe that’s supposed to be sexy too, I don’t know about that myself).

Anyway, what I did have was a red tracksuit type of outfit that had a zipper hoodie and wide elastic pants. But it was velour not cotton. Not really designed for running, but close enough. It wasn’t tight, white or pulled over my head. Since I have gunboat size feet, finding slippers for me is extremely difficult, actually impossible, so I just went with my comfortable shoes. I had underpants on but no bra. I figured that any bra I owned would soon be obsolete so why even bother?

I did feel just a little embarrassed waiting for the doctor. There were a couple of people waiting for taxis, I guess, and me with no makeup or wig or any sort of adornment and wearing an obviously feminine tracksuit made me feel a little andro. I didn’t look much like a girl at all despite all the hormones and the softening of the face I’ve had from the medications I still felt out of place.

Fortunately, the doctor showed up just a couple of minutes later. And we were off to the clinic.

You have to admit that being picked up by the doctor who is going to perform your surgery is impressive. He could have easily sent one of his staff to pick me up or have sent a taxi for me.

But he wanted to have time to discuss any last minute questions I might have had or to calm my nerves if I was nervous. I was neither one of those so we chatted about his upcoming vacation.

We got to the clinic in about ten minutes. He parked the car and escorted me into the clinic. He showed me into one of the examination rooms and gave me a gown to wear and showed me where I could put my clothes while I was in the operating room.

A few minutes after I got changed, the doctor and the anesthesiologist came in with a bunch of legal forms I had to sign. Then the doctor took one last look at my face started drawing on my face and chest with a marker to point out where he would be operating.

After he got done with me I looked in the mirror and felt my face looked like a road map! He used some colors to indicate where he would be working under the skin and other colors where he would be making incisions. And I think the tic-tac-toe board was a joke…

He then said he was going to scrub up and get ready. I was then put into the capable hands of his staff.

I was soon escorted to the operating room were I was laid out on the table and the nurses and technicians helped me off with my gown and covered me with a sheet. They attached an IV to my arm and we joked around a bit and they did everything to put me at ease, I remember looking up at the surgical lights that would soon be illuminating me. I was feeling pretty comfortable, a little nervous, but thinking; “Finally this is happening! This is REAL. I am finally going to have what I’ve been wanting most of my life!”

Then the anesthesiologist came up to me and said the now familiar words: “We’re going to put you to sleep now so that we can finish prepping you for your surgery and intubate you for the surgery. I was about to say “Thanks…” when…

****LIGHTS OUT****

-Sandy(the sandman has nothing on these guys!)

Christmas Finally Arrives! Pre-Surgical Check in day.

Christmas Finally Arrives! Pre-Surgical Check in day.

Alright, ladies. Having spent the better part of ten days getting my body and spirit back into the same place, I guess it's time to talk about how my FFS/BA went.

This will be a *long* story, even by my chatterbox standards and I will break this up into multiple “chapters” instead of one long “War and Peace” type of post.

Anyway, lets go back to the beginning. No not that far back, just to the Friday I checked into the Staybridge hotel where I would be recovering.

Dr. Zukowski put together a really remarkable manual for his patients called the FFS Success manual. Each one is customized for the client that he will be operating on. In there are descriptions of all correspondence, a description in detail of each of the procedures that are going to be performed, a pre-surgical check list, a day before check list, an explanation of what to expect on the day of surgery, what to expect after surgery, ongoing post-surgical maintenance, and for those clients from out of town, the names of the recommended hotels, what taxi services are available and known to be reliable, a list of restaurants in the general area, and maps on how to get to the clinic and hotels from just about anywhere in the major metropolitan area. Whew!.

Plus there is a DVD that he produced that is broken down into three major sections. One is a roundtable discussion from "Z" girl alumni (and that is the official term, "Z" Girl) about their experiences with FFS primarily, how long it took to heal and how long it took for all the various pieces of procedures fit together. And these girls of the discussion have been post-op for anywhere from a few weeks to several years.

The second section of the DVD is the doctor working with an actual patient who had FFS just the day before. He came and described the procedures that the person had, then removed the outer bandages to examine the state of the recovery, then re-wrapped the lady for another twenty four hours. The next segment returns twenty four hours later and does a final unwrap of the outer bandages, unpacking the nose from the rhinoplasty and then cleaning and redressing the incisions. He then describes the most difficult part of the patients recovery. Namely the facial massage that the patient MUST do at least three times a day in order to help the soft tissue re-seat on the cartilage and bone and also force fluid that will drain from the face into the lower jaw. It is a function of gravity. This massage must be performed for several weeks post op if you want your procedure to look as good as possible. The reason I say that this is difficult, besides taking about twenty to thirty minutes to do each time, is that it is initially painful, and after a few days is simply very uncomfortable. But it must be done. I personally have noticed how well my healing is coming along because I am trying my best to maintain this regimen. Face it girls, you've just become a high-maintenance woman! BTW: No makeup, wig or other adornment like jewelry for at least ten to fifteen days. You have incisions that need to heal, and putting makeup into those incisions is just inviting an infection. Deal with it.

The other part of the postoperative maintenance that the patient must perform is the wearing of an admittedly medieval torture device called a compression garment. I know it is medieval because the instructions are in Latin and the last person it was used on was called Galileo. It does what it says. It is an elastic garment that will compress your lower jaw and cheeks so that there will be less swelling between massages. This must be worn at all times if possible. Once you return to work you don't necessarily have to wear it, but it should be worn at all other times for the following two to three months. Trust me you really look like a fashion plate wearing it! It's ugly, uncomfortable and needs regular cleaning. Realize, ladies, that these procedures require you to play an active role in your healing. Unlike other surgical procedures, like an appendectomy, all you have to do is reduce your activity and your body will heal on it's own. That is true here as well, but you must help direct your body HOW to heal! Otherwise you will spend many weeks recovering and you will really not get the results you were hoping for. It's not fun, it's not painless, but after all the money you spend for this would you want to do anything but take the very best care of yourself as possible? Think of it like buying a new car (it costs about the same). When the instructions say, for example, don't over-rev the engine for the first five hundred miles, do you really want to endanger having to install a new engine just because you felt like over-revving the engine?

The third section of the DVD covers the major issues displayed in the second part, but this time in a more clinical session using one of his staff as a demonstrator, Basically Dr Zukowski explains in great detail again the need for constant care of your face and the need for the three times daily massage.

I went to work on Friday with the intension of driving from work to the hotel. Naturally, that day like the day before Christmas was about the slowest time I have ever spent sitting at a desk.

Driving from downtown Chicago to the north side was tedious. Fortunately I had a friend of mine call me just as I was getting on the expressway and we chatted all the way up there. Thanks Wendy!

When I checked in, there was a message left for me from Lisa Lopez of Compassionate care. She was offering to go out to dinner with me, as it would be my “last supper”. When I got settled in, I called her and accepted her offer.

I also had an appointment at the clinic for a lymphatic drainage session. Rena the lady who performs the process is a seven-year post op female and extremely joyous in her outlook on life. I invited her to dinner too. It turns out the “last supper” is kind of a tradition for girls who are going to go through major surgery who have to stop all food and drink after midnight, so the plan is usually to live it up a bit before you have to go dry. One of Rena’s friend was there as well and I invited her too.

After my session with Rena, as I was on my way back to the Staybridge, I got a call from Julie,too as she is known around here. She said she could come to dinner, but Julie Marie could not make it as she was being pulled into a last minute dinner with a high ranking member of the company she works for and felt obligated to go. Of course I understood and told Julie,too to call me when she got on the road so I could tell her where we were going to end up since none of us girls had a clue about what we wanted to eat.

They were all supportive of me choosing, but I really didn’t care so long as it was good food and we could have a good time.

Well trying to get four women to agree on just about anything can be more difficult than getting a resolution through the United Nations! We must have thrashed for almost half an hour before we came up with an idea so that is the way we went.

Another friend of the group of us called Liz called Rena, I think, and we invited her to dinner as well. What a gaggle of girls!

Liz met us at the bistro just shortly after we got seated.

Julie,too had not quite shown up but was only about twenty minutes late by time we got seated.

It was a wonderful upscale type of “place” which I think actually specialized in bowling and bocce ball but had a top-notch bistro.

Anyway by time Julie,too showed up we were still trying to decide on an appetizer! We were such chatterboxes! Anyway we split a few different dishes between us (there was a lot of food) so we all had a chance to try different things.

And we talked about *everything* you can imagine a bunch of woman could talk about. After what seemed like a short time later, I looked up and noticed we were the only ones left in the restaurant! God that was fun!

I’m sure the waitress got quite an earful from us! Let’s see, two GG’s and four transsexuals, most pretty well lubricated with excellent food, friends and liquor. We were in rare form. I had a blast!

By time we left I had only about half an hour left before I turned into a pumpkin and had to be completely dry and without food. I didn’t bring any food from the bistro back with me because I didn’t want the temptation. But we said our goodbyes in the parking lot and hugged a lot and Lisa and I hustled back to the hotel. She would be staying there while I recovered.

I got back to the room and Lisa checked in on me just to make sure I was all settled in. I had two big glasses of water and finished them just as the clock on the microwave changed to 12:00.

Ok, I thought, here is where the roller coaster REALLY starts. I climbed into bed and tried to get to sleep. Actually sleep came pretty easily for me. After the drive up there and the wonderful time I had with my friends at the bistro (and the triptophan in the pasta I had) I dropped off pretty quickly.

I had set the alarm for 5:00 so I could take a shower before I was to be picked up by the doctor at 6:15 AM.

One of the last thoughts I remember having before I drifted off was “Oh boy! This is where it finally starts!”

-Sandy (More to come!)