Transgender Day of Remembrance - Chicago

Transgender Day of Remembrance - Chicago

Last night, Pat and I attended the Transgender Day of Remembrance here in Chicago at the Center on Halsted.

It was held on the third floor roof. It was a chill evening and, perhaps appropriately, and a cold bitter snow started just after we gathered outside.

There were many speakers and one of the honored speakers was Diane Schroer, who had just recently won a precedent setting case of discrimination against the Library of Congress.

In her speech, she asked, "Who Speaks for the Dead". Her answer was the WE speak for the dead. All of us. Those of us that come out of the closet, who take the first hesitating steps to become our true selves. Those of us that have completely transitioned. And even those of us who take a stealth path. We all stand for the dead. We all speak for those who have had their voices silenced through bigotry, hate, and anger.

We have in many ways become less sensationalized and are less fodder for the likes of Jerry Springer and are now given more of an open forum by the likes of Oprah and Barbara Walters to show the world that we our struggle is not a tawdry thrill but a life affirming quest.

But we are still vulnerable to hate and ignorance. And last night was a memorial to those whose quest had come to an end.

Once the speeches were over, the names of the honored dead were read.

On that rooftop deck, there were 24 chairs, each with a blood red candle burning on it. Each name was read along with the date and method of their death. As each name was read, the candle was extinguished and a bell was tolled.

For me, it was a knife to the heart for each peeling of the bell. Particularly hard was hearing the name of Lawrence King, the 14 year old, who was shot by a classmate because Lawrence had asked him to be his valentine.

Once the vigil was over we returned to the building. Pat held me as I wept.

It was a moving event for me. I hope that one day that it will be no longer be necessary to have such a vigil.

-Sandy

An Episode to the Epilogue

An Episode to the Epilogue

Previously I have posted that I have completed my transition so then too I would have completed my postings to my blog, “Sandy’s Transition”.

Ah were that the case. The last few weeks have left me stressed out, anxious, and depressed as ever I have been in my life.

If you have been following my story, you will have read that I was one of the fortunate few whose insurance coverage actually did cover not only my orchiectomy, but also my Gender Confirmation Surgery as well.

You may have also read that while it was “covered” it wasn’t *covered*. Something to do with my insurance company (Blue Cross/Blue Shield HMO of Illinois) not covering cosmetic surgeries, but the only way to list my referral for GCS was as cosmetic. Catch-22. (And why in the world would you list as “cosmetic” something that good girls don’t go around showing off is beyond me!!!)

My doctor, surgeon, and therapists all sent in recommendations that this surgery wasn’t cosmetic, but was a life saving operation. And only after my doctor talked to the insurance company directly and submitting over three hundred pages of notes and documentation, that the insurance company relented and approved my referral.

But since the operation was out of network, I had to pay for it upfront, then, I was assured, I would be reimbursed. I proceeded to take out a loan with near loan shark rates assuming that the interest rate wouldn’t matter that much since I would be paying it off in a reasonably short period of time after I received my reimbursement.

Ok, let’s fast forward through my trip, surgery, and return. It’s posted on the blog for those who want to relive those wonderful days with me. (I still recall the moment my plane took off for Philadelphia with a wistful fondness.)

Ok, back home and now trying to put my life back on track after a two year process to change every part of my being. One of the details was to start submitting the paperwork to the insurance company to get my reimbursement.

I contacted the person at BCBS about submitting the required information. I was told that there was a form on the website and that I should fill it out and submit that and the relevant invoices to the insurance company.

I did that and didn’t hear anything for a few weeks. I called and after going through the usual mind numbing phone menu and being put on hold so long that I actually started liking the musak that was playing in the background and could recite all the phone-on-hold commercials by heart… backward.

I finally talked with someone and they said that the documentation that was submitted was not complete. They required an itemized invoice including standardized procedural codes and diagnostics.

Ok.

I called the surgeons office and contacted someone from admin. Fortunately the also had been contacted by the insurance company and they had requested the same things. But I would have to contact the hospital to get that information as well as the anesthesiologist.

Ok.

I worked through this process over the next few weeks. Regularly contacting the insurance people as well as the billing and admin people at the surgeon’s office, the hospital and the anesthesiologist.

I then receive a note from BCBS stating that my claim wasn’t covered because they do not cover GCS.

Arrgghh!!! Scream!! Cry!!!

I contact the insurance people and they tell me that the never covered that surgery and even though I had a proper referral it wasn’t BCBS’s responsibility to pay it. I was welcome to contact the medical group to see if they would pay for it, but their responsibility was at an end.

Arrgghh!!! Scream!! Cry!!! Arrgghh!!! Scream!! Cry!!!

After I dried my eyes, actually the tears ran out. I contacted the medical group.

I then had to go through the exact same submission of documentation that I went through with BCBS.

Following that, I was told that even though I submitted the proper information I would not be reimbursed. The medical group only reimburses the hospital and they should have submitted the information directly to them in the first place.

With a calm and demeanor rivaling that of Job, I explained to this person that I had been told that I HAD to pay for it out of pocket since it was out of network and that I was SUPPOSED to get reimbursed! I had been told that by several people at BCBS (accent on the BS!), the medical group, and my physicians office!

This person again told me that the policy was only to reimburse the hospital after they submitted the proper documentation. That person refused to even look at my referral.

At that point, I had a proper and satisfying meltdown. I yelled at them that they were an idiot and I wanted to speak with their supervisor!

After a few minutes I was put in contact with the supervisor and I explained the situation again.

This time, the person actually reviewed the case and said that actually everything seemed in order. My referral was proper, and my documentation was complete. She thought it was just a matter of examining the data and making a determination who would pay what.

I started sobbing on the phone. I was so relieved to get even that response that I lost all control. The lady said that she would review the information and would be getting back to me. She even gave me her direct line so that I wouldn’t get ear calluses wading through the phone menu.

I thanked her profusely and hung up, feeling more relieved than I had in several weeks.

A few days later, the lady from the medical group did call me back and said that she had to contact the surgeon, hospital, and anesthesiologist but she had all the information she needed. She said that there would be two checks sent out. One would come from the medical group, which would pay for the surgeon, and the other would come from BCBS who would be paying for the hospital stay and the anesthesia.

By this time my spirits were lifting considerably.

A few days following that, I did receive a check from the medical group. After waiting another few days, I still had not received the check from BCBS. I was starting to get worried that they would renege on their agreement. I called the lady at the medical group back and asked if she had heard anything. She said no but would check into it.

No sooner had I hung up from her, I got a call from the billing department at the hospital where I stayed.

She told me that BCBS had sent them a check for my bill. She said that she would personally walk the check over to Accounts Payable and have them cut me a check that very day!

I was over joyed!

However after several more days I still had not received the check. I call the lady at the hospital back and asked if she had heard anything. She checked with AP and the said that they had FedEx’d the check and it was recorded as delivered!!! (A signature had not been asked for)

Arrgghh!!! Scream!! Cry!!! Arrgghh!!! Scream!! Cry!!! Arrgghh!!! Scream!! Cry!!!

In all my years of using FedEx and other services, I had never had a lost item. Why did it have to happen with this one!!!! I felt that I was being toyed with by the fates. It seemed that I had to keep leaping to get to my goal, but it would be pulled out of my reach at the last moment. This last twist to this really had me undone.

I told them that I had not received it and that they should put a stop on the check and could they send out another? (Pretty please???)

The nice lady and her partner at AP said that they would overnight the check to me and require a signature.

The next morning, finally, the replacement check arrived. I was so relieved!

I just deposited it this morning, and bring to a close this last major chapter of my transition from man to woman.

It has been a very short time for me since I started down the path to confirm my true nature. I have been truly blessed by the way my transition has gone. My family loves me, I was not discriminated at work, and the financial needs have been taken care of. Though I do feel that I have had to mortgaged my future to save my present. But in all likelihood I would have probably not lived long enough to enjoy my future were I not to transition.

Just this evening I was sitting at the dining room table with Pat and I was feeling very content. And I looked down at myself then at Pat, and I asked myself what the big deal was. I was finally as much of a woman as far as medical science could make me and I felt so normal that I couldn’t remember what the crisis was when I had male genitals.

Then I thought about having a penis again and I was overcome with revulsion. I guess I really was a transsexual. So many times we wonder if we have made the right decision to transition. I now know I made the right decision!

-Sandy

Doing some more catching up...

It's been quite a while since I posted anything here. Actually a couple of months.

In that time there have been some wonderful times in my life.

First off, my granddaughter finally had her baptism. It was an interesting time from the stand point that she does not like having her head wet. We were worried that there would be a problem when the pastor anointed her head.

So she simply moistened her forehead and then anointed her with oil which she let her smell first.

The end result was that the baptism went very smoothly and without any screaming. Actually, I think she enjoyed being the center of attention.

Here is a group picture from the event:

On the right are the two proud parents. And on the left are Kara's wonderful godparents, my partner, and my youngest daughter. In the middle are the Pastor, a wonderful woman, and the maiden of honor.

An interesting development as we celebrated her baptism in the undercroft following the ceremony.

The ceremony had been attended by both my ex spouses as well as my daughters (of course) as well as some relatives. One of the parishioners, who is unfamiliar with my history was confused about the number of "grandma's" attending the service. She said that one of the ladies said that she was my daughters mother. And she was confused about my relationship to her.

I took deep breath and said that when my daughters were born, I was their father. She blinked a couple of times and then said, "oh". Then she apologized and said that she didn't mean to pry.

I told her that it wasn't a problem and I didn't think it was prying at all. She smiled sweetly and the rest of the time went very well.

Now my "secret" is out. I am no longer stealth at church. There really isn't that much church gossip, I'm sure it does happen and sooner or later, everyone will know. While I don't make a big deal about my history, I certainly don't wear a sign around my neck that says "TRANSSEXUAL!!!" And there are at least one gay couple already at the church. Well, actually two, now. I and my partner are the other one. And we don't make a big deal about that either.

And neither does anyone else. In the intervening time, there have been no second looks, no whispering behind my back, no suppressed giggles. This is my family and I love them all.

Today, as we were coming home from Church, Pat asked if we wanted to see some animals. I said sure!

As we drove home, she directed me down a different road and we ended up at a small field enclosed with a fence.

On the other side of the fence were emus! I certainly did not expect to see them in my neck of the woods.

Kara was facinated:



Well that is just a quick couple of things that have been happening here.

I'll post more soon.

Very soon, like this week, Kara will have a little sister. So I'll have quite a bit to talk about then!

-Sandy

Epilogue

Epilogue

It’s been six weeks since my SRS surgery and just over a year since I went full time.

My state of mind has been one of peace and calm. I feel so comfortable in my chosen gender that I find I must remind myself that I have not always been this way.

I think about other transsexuals who have fully transitioned and are post-op and I realize that I am now one of them as well. But I don’t think of myself as having joined some exclusive sorority. More like having survived a grueling trek.

I think about my time before my transition and wonder what all the fuss was about. It’s been so long since I’ve been down the rabbit hole of clinical depression that I have to remind myself that there was a significant part of my life where I would think about being female, then immediately feel that I needed to kill myself for being a pervert, a queer, someone who was a waste of skin. Eventually I started playing more and more aggressive suicide games, hoping that I would accidentally kill myself because I didn’t have the guts to do it right the first time. I would then call myself a coward because I survived.

I’ve willingly, even eagerly, had my face and body significantly altered, been rendered permanently sterile, and have had things done to my genitalia that make “normal” males shudder.

My mind and body have been altered through the administration of HRT and the blocking of testosterone and then the elimination of those glands that so horrified me.

I did not realize the extent to which my mind has been altered until recently.

Just a couple of weeks ago I was asked to help out in the production of the musical “Oklahoma” that was put on by the community theatre group I frequent. Doing tech on a play is usually hours of boredom followed by seconds of terror. During one of the lulls in the action, I picked up a book that was lying around backstage. It was “Little Earthquakes” by Jennifer Wiener. It’s a touching story about a group of women and the experiences in their lives during their pregnancy. I read a couple of chapters and I was hooked! I so identified with those women. I could feel their joys and sadness as their pregnancies developed.

This mildly astonished me. Normally I would read science fiction or action books. And here was this “chick-lit” book and I was carried away! I had to get it for myself. I’m reading it now on the train and have not enjoyed reading as much in quite a long time. I’m wondering if I’ll start liking romance novels next.

Over the last few months my maternal instincts have been getting stronger. I wrote it off as fallout from my daughter who is pregnant with her second child. But the idea of being a mother to a child has really taken me. To my daughters I am still dad. That can never change. Nor do I want it to. But being a mom is so inviting! Even though I can never be pregnant, the idea of growing a life within me is more than intriguing. I see pregnant women and feel more than just a passing envy. I know that childbirth is not for the weak, but I would not fear it

I’m coming to terms with being a lesbian. I have learned not to ogle women. And realize that when I see beautiful woman and have erotic thoughts about them, I understand that they do not see me in the same way (mostly). I’m envious of the way hetero couples can display their affection for each other with kisses, hugs and hand holding. Were my partner and I to show such affection to each other, she and I would be instantly labeled “lezzy” and vilified.

According to my surgeon and endocrinologist the medical community considers me female. My last hormone level check showed my testosterone and estrogen levels completely normal… for a woman. This pleases me.

When I started to seriously consider a transition I felt so daunted. It seemed like everything I would have to do was another mountain to climb. When I got my right ear pierced to match the piercing I had on the left, I remember looking at myself in my cars rear view mirror in grand happiness at my bold feminine gesture. Then feeling overwhelmed when I though about all the effort I would have to go through to complete my journey. Jewelry, clothing, underwear, hair and makeup all had to change. Changing gender is the most arduous and challenging task a human in modern society can do. I had to face the possibility that I could lose everything I hold dear. Not just the material things, but more importantly, things like love and acceptance from family and friends.

In actuality, I lost very little. In comparison to some, I feel that I’ve won the transsexual lottery. The most important people in my life stayed with me, encouraged me, loved me. My darling three-year-old granddaughter calls me “Grandma Sandy” and my heart melts. She and I are “best buds” she watches me put my makeup on in the morning and I have to gather up all my shoes from her in the evening. She is smart, affectionate and wise. One day she and I will have a talk about me, but I am not fearful that she might turn away from me. I’ll still be Grandma Sandy to her, regardless.

I look back now on my journey and feel that I never had a mountain to climb. In fact as I started down the road, I found it paved, flat, and well lit.

When I made my first move to change/save my life, I felt I had stepped into the abyss. I had no idea where I would go or how I would survive. I stepped into the unknown and felt supported, buoyed up by some force. The words of Joseph Campbell came to me over and over: “Follow your bliss.” When you are following your bliss, people will appear in your field of bliss and open doors for you that you never knew existed. This was proven to me time and time again.

I learned to let my life, my extended re-birth, unfold at its own pace, in its own way. When something was right for me to do, it would appear. I learned not to force the pace of change. And actually found it to go quite fast. Though not faster than I could handle.

Here I sit at the end of my transition and the beginning of my life. For the first time I feel whole and normal. I never believed that one person could have this much joy. Every day is a treasure to me, a wonder to be explored.

To those of you who are following your own path, know that what awaits you is joy beyond belief and love everlasting. Be strong and you will persevere.

This marks the end of “Sandy’s Transition”. As I’ve said before, transition is temporary by definition and while I have some residual issues to take care of like completing electrolysis, I feel complete and no longer feel the need to post in this blog. The woman inside has finally been born outside. After nearly fifty-six years, my birth is complete!

-Sandy

My GCS Procedure Part 2

My GCS Procedure Part 2

***LIGHTS ON***

Well actually this time it was a more gentle awakening than I have had in previous operations.

I became dimly aware of a hissing sound and then realized I had an oxygen tube in my nose. I felt the cool rush of the oxygen start to clear my head.

I heard other people around me and opened my eyes. I felt one of the nurses put something in my hand and say: “This is your morphine button. Use it when you have pain”.

I vaguely nodded.

I became aware of other sensations and sounds. There was a mechanical sound from end of my bed and I became aware of a gentle massage on my legs.

As I looked around I realized I was in a different room and it was near dark. I was lying horizontal and I then I realized it was over!

Actually, the realization was a bit more involved.  Because I was not all quite there, I had to work it out.

I figured out that I was in the hospital, then I remembered that I just had a procedure.  Since I have had many procedures, my first thought was; "What's next?"

Then I had to remember what procedure I had and that I just had GRS and I realized that there was no *next* operation, I was done!

A feeling of relief and completion came over me.  I realized that I had completed my trek, my journey was at an end.

And deep in my brain, I FELT a switch flip from male to female.  It was a palpable feeling and I'm surprised that the nurses did not hear it also.

I tried to look down but a sheet was covering me. I could see that I had a catheter and I had an IV in my arm.

I felt that there were ice packs down there and while I felt a bit uncomfortable, I was not in any real pain.

Much like when I had my orchiectomy there really wasn’t that much pain at all.

There were actually two nurses in my room fussing over me and checking that everything was proper.

They were in good spirits and joked good naturedly with me.

I wasn’t completely booted back up but no where near the lobotomized stat that I was in when I came out of my FFS surgery.

They were done soon and asked me if I wanted any ice chips. I was parched and said yes.

The nurse came and spoon fed me some and that quenched me for a bit.

She asked if there was anything else she could do and I said no. So she showed me where the call button was and said if I needed anything just buzz.

I was exhausted but not really tired. So I pressed the morphine button about five or six times…

Very soon I was asleep again. But before I dropped off I just kept turning over in my mind; “It’s OVER! I’ve done it! I’m not half and half!”

I think I had the smile on my face the whole time I was asleep.

I woke up a couple hours later and it was still dark and just pushed the morphine button again.

I did that a couple of times. One time I awoke because the nurse came in and asked if I wanted some water. I said yes and she brought me some water.

I sipped it pretty quickly and she brought me another one. She told me to keep myself hydrated as much as possible. It would help clear the effects of the anesthesia and get my body started.

She reminded me that I had a catheter and not to worry about going to the bathroom. She then told me that the massager on my legs were to keep my legs from forming any blood clots and that I would have it on for a few days.

This also meant that I wouldn’t be able to turn over. I was starting to feel some low back pain from being horizontal. I knew that it would be difficult to keep from having a lot of pain from my back because of it. I would just have to endure it.

Some hours and much water and juice later, the doctor looked in on me.

She asked how I was feeling and wanted to examine me. I told her I was feeling fine. I was a bit uncomfortable but no real pain.

She pulled the sheet down and lifted up my gown. I couldn’t really see anything from where I was at, since I was still lying flat. But you can expect I was extremely curious!

The doctor asked me if I remember what happened in recovery.

I looked at her blankly and asked what happened.

“Well, as you were coming out of the anesthesia you had a panic attack and started kicking. I had to throw myself over your legs to keep you from hurting yourself. That’s why your legs are lashed to the bed!”

I lifted up a little bit and could see that they had tied my legs down to the bed with a sheet. I was very surprised.

The doctor continued to examine me and said that it looked like I had started bleeding as a result of my kicking. It looked like it would be ok, but she wanted me completely horizontal for another twenty four hours to make sure that no blood would pool in the middle of my body or groin area.

She asked if I felt all right and that if I wouldn’t start kicking again, she would take the lashing off.

I promised to be good and the doctor and the nurse pulled off the sheet lashing me to the bed.

I’ve had bad experiences before coming out of anesthesia but this one seemed the most extreme. Also the fact that I didn’t remember any of it surprised me. Usually I remember just about everything once I am conscious. The memory may be a bit blurry, but usually I remember something. This time, zilch!

Over the next couple of days all I did was lie in bed. All I did was listen to the leg massager or watch TV.

I had some visitors. Kate and her wife came by to visit. We had a great time chatting. Also Teresa who was Dr. Christine’s first patient (otherwise known as “The First Lady of Doylestown) came by to visit. And the good doctor’s third patient, Dani visited as well. As it turned out I was the fifth patient of Dr. McGinn.

The greatest surprise though was on the second day.

I was on the phone when the nurse comes in and says that I have a couple of visitors.

I turn and look and in walk the two Julies! Arm in arm and doing a “TA-DA!!!” pose!

They had driven from Chicago to Philadelphia to see me. To say I was flabbergasted is an understatement!

I was talking to Kate on the phone and the nurse came in and started snapping pictures. I am agape in the photos.

I started crying such happy tears. Being alone in a strange place and doing something that can be so scary is very stressful. Naturally I had tried to put on a brave face, but when my two friends showed up, so much of my stress just melted away.

I can just hear the exchange between those two when they came up with the idea:

“So what do you want to do?”

“I don’t know, what do you want to do?”

“I dunno, you want to go visit Sandy?”

“Sure!”

Both say together:

“ROAD TRIP!!!”

Apparently they came up with the idea about the time of my going away party. Their escapades driving out to see me was so funny!

I was so touched by their visit. I could not have been more surprised!

We chatted for about an hour and then they headed out to find a place to stay. They intended to visit Philadelphia the next day then they were going to visit and head back.

I’ll post some pictures soon.

What a couple of neat gals!

Over the next couple of days, the time moved slowly. The ache in my back from having to lay horizontal was so great that I asked for morphine to help me sleep.

Each day the doctor would visit and check to see how I was doing. Each day brought me a little closer to freedom.

I wrote the following in my journal while I was flat on my back:

Kate and her wife gave me this journal as a present and I really appreciate it. I won’t be able to blog until I get to the hotel and get my laptop setup. This is my fourth day in the hospital and for four days I have been bed ridden. To say this has been tedious is an understatement. But:

I’M DONE!!!! XXXXX

The last vestige of my masculinity, my birth defect, has finally been corrected. I’m no longer half-n-half, no longer girl on top and boy on bottom. The feeling of relief is grand.

But it is entirely an internal feeling. The world has seen me as Sandy for almost a year now ( I went full time on April 16th of last year), my car and house and mortgage are all in my name. All in my gender, as is my drivers license and SSN. I am an empowered woman!



March 18th 2008 8:30 AM EST Fifth day post operative.

Just got done running the Boston Marathon!
The first five miles where the worst but after that it was all downhill.

My day started nice and early. About six o’clock, a couple of nurses came in and said that they were going to take out my foley! I was overjoyed, but I knew what was coming.

They fussed with the plumbing and prepared for the, removal. One nurse told me to hold her hand while the other pulled the pipe. It was quite a shock. But, having had a foley as both a guy and now as a girl, having it pulled was much easier as a girl!

Then they removed the pressure leggings from my legs. (Free at last!)

They said that they would be back after breakfast and help me to get up and go to the bathroom.

Breakfast came about an hour later and I really enjoyed eating without having to stay horizontal.

The marathon part was getting out of bed and walking the ten feet or so to the bathroom. My nurse, Terri helped me get to a sitting position. I sat there for a few minutes and tried to keep the room from spinning too much. She then helped me to stand and that actually felt good. Though my left ankle had pretty much given out while I was lying in bed and it was still sore. I think what happened was that while I was kicking as I came out of anesthesia, I must have hit my foot or ankle. Also since I’d been horizontal for so long I could only stand for a few moments before I started to get dizzy.

Terri helped me walk to the door of the bathroom and then things started getting woozy. She called for another nurse and they got a chair under me. I managed to get my butt in the chair before the lights went out. After a few minutes things cleared up. And I was able to make it the rest of the way into the bathroom and on the throne.

I had my first urination with the new plumbing! It was “odd”. I was very swollen and sore from the operation and the foley. I sprayed everywhere.

After that they gave me a shower and I felt wonderful!

Later in the day, Dr. McGinn came to visit me again and prepare me for discharge.

This consisted of pulling my vaginal stent packing. And then she demonstrated to me how to use my new friends, my dilators, Homer and Jethro. If you don’t get the reference, do a Google search. I named them that simply because that was the first name to pop into my head. Homer is the smaller Jethro is bigger. Though seeing them for the first time did scare me a bit: “That is going to go into me?!” The doctor just smiled and nodded and proceeded to show me the proper way to dilate. We just used Homer that time and Dr. Christine said that as I got more comfortable I could switch to the larger one, but I should wait a couple of weeks or so before doing that. I watched in a hand mirror as the doctor performed my first dilation.

After that she handed me the dilator and told me to do it. It’s a simple enough process and if you are really curious, I’m sure you can find examples. It’s quite similar to the organic dilating that has been going on for thousands and thousands of years. Though for me I received no sexual sensation from it. I did feel where my prostate was and the doctor said that would be my “G” spot.

After that the doctor said she would discharge me. Initially I thought that when I was discharged from the hospital, I would be able to drive. The doctor quite emphatically said no when I went in for my pre-surgical check up! So we made arrangements for me to get a ride from the doctor to my recovery motel. The motel was just about a half a mile from her office. Which was one of the reasons I chose that motel in the first place.

She helped me get my luggage into the room and settled in for the night. She gave me her pager number and said she lived just a little bit from there and could return at any time if there was any problem.

She wanted to see me the next day for a follow up examination in her office.

Over the next several days I would see the doctor every other day. During those examinations, the doctor removed the necrotic tissue from my skin graft. It is normal that some tissue in a skin graft will not take and will slough off on its own. This tissue is dead and has no active nerves so the process is painless. The doctor would remove some of this tissue to speed up the process. She also painted some of the area with silver nitrate. This is a caustic chemical, which helps to reduce granulated tissue.

Also during this time I had my first examination with a speculum. I was a little apprehensive at first, but the doctor said that she wouldn’t be looking too deep and she was using the smallest speculum, which was smaller than my dilator. My nervousness subsided and as promised there was no problem or pain.

Also during this period I was visited and ministered by some very close friends.

Teresa, the doctors’ first patient came by and stayed with me and showed me the sights as I was able to. My stamina was non-existent so I really couldn’t do too much and I had to dilate six times a day so at most I could do a couple of short outings a day.

My friend Kate and her wife were my angels. Kate and her wife drove the thirty or so miles from their house to DSI to shuttle my car from the hospital to my motel. I really appreciated that.

Kate’s wife drove me everywhere I needed to go to get supplies like pads and hand sanitizer and mineral oil. She also was a great companion. She let me babble on about my post-surgical condition and was most accommodating of my delicate state. She is a kind and wonderful lady. Kate is very lucky.

Soon my time in Doylestown came to an end. And with a certain sadness I said good-bye to my friends. This trip wasn’t supposed to be a vacation, but I really did enjoy myself.

My procedure was a success I had a wonderful time with some wonderful newfound friends. I’m still debating on whether or not to return, probably in the later part of the year, for a labiaplasty. But if I do, part of the reason will be to see my friends again!

The trip home was uneventful but tedious, and a bit uncomfortable. On the actual flight, I was seated in the window seat. Then there were two people seated next to me who could not get out of their seat without assistance. There was no way I was able to go to the bathroom for the entire flight. I’m glad that it wasn’t a flight from Thailand!

When I got home, I had a terrible headache and was exhausted beyond words. I just dragged my luggage into my bedroom, took a shower and fell into bed. I slept for eighteen hours.

Since then I’ve been making a good recovery both in physical well being and my surgical sight. My depth is all I wanted it to be and sensation is returning. Though it will probably take a couple of months or more to get full sensation back. I have been experiencing some interesting sexual sensations during my dilation as I heal. I will probably be fully “functional” in time. Of course that is important to me, but not why I started down this path.

I’m sorry that this post took so long to write. Between my natural procrastination, my lack of stamina getting back into the swing of things at work, I had little time to get this written down.

I tried not to be too graphic in my description of the procedure or my post-surgical “exercises”. But if anyone wants a more detailed description of what happed or has any question, feel free to drop my a line.

-Sandy (proud girl number 5!)

My GCS Procedure, Part 1

My GCS Procedure, Part 1

Well I've pretty much put my thoughts together from the trip and the operation, so here goes.

As you may recall, my plans called for me to stay for a couple of days in the Extended Stay hotel which was just a couple of blocks from the hospital.

I had opted to go to DSI which stands for Diversified Specialties Institute. It is a private hospital and from what I could tell specialized primarily in women's issues. Given that there was no price difference, I opted for DSI over Doylestown Hospital. Doylestown hospital is a community hospital and as such my elective surgery could be bumped or postponed by an emergency operation. There was much less chance of that at DSI.

On my last night at the first hotel, I prepped myself for surgery. This consisted of magnesium citrate cocktail in the evening followed by a fleet chaser in the morning.

Between excursions to the bathroom, I repacked my travel bag for the stay at the hospital. I wasn't sure how active I would be so I packed some pajamas and nighties as well as some underwear. I put the rest of the clothes into my big suitcase which would be in the car while I was in the hospital.

As is normal I was to be NPO after midnight, but I was also restricted to a liquid diet for most of the day.

By time the magnesium citrate got done with me I was exhausted anyway and pretty much just fell into bed. It wasn't much after midnight when I fell asleep. I woke up about 05:00 to do the fleet thing and then had to report to the hospital by 06:30.

I checked out of the hotel and put my big suitcase in the car and put my travel bag next to me. I drove the couple of blocks to the hospital. It took me two tries to figure out where I was to check in. The main entrance was still locked, and it wasn't clear that I was to check in at the side ambulance entrance.

I parked the car and went in to the side entrance and was greeted warmly by the attendant on duty. I have to say that the entire staff at DSI was incredibly nice and compassionate.

I was quickly checked in and soon a nurse came to escort me to the changing area.

As I was escorted to the prep area, the nurse asked if I needed to use the washroom.  I said yes and she pointed to a one seat toilet.

As I sat down to relieve myself, I realized that that was the last time I would ever IN MY LIFE(!) have to urinate with a hose!  The thought was a revelation.

After I finished, I stood and I looked down at my withered penis and felt my empty scrotum for the very last time.  I knew that I would never see it like that again.  I smiled wistfully, tucked for the very last time, pulled my panties into place, pulled up my pants, washed my hands, and left the toilet.


The nurse showed me to a curtained off area, then gave me a gown and closed the drapes for me to change.

I changed then got on the gurney and covered myself with a sheet.

Through out this whole process my mind is going around and around; "This is it! This is REALLY happening!"

I was calm and excited at the same time. I had no second thoughts or regrets. This last step was finally immanent and I was ready.

I guess it's part of the confirmation of being a transsexual. To have your genitalia radically resected and to be permanently rendered sterile is not only not worrying but comforting.

Over the next hour or so a number of nurses came in and preped me for surgery. I had a heploc IV put in and another set of blood tests taken. We could not proceed with the surgery until the test results were returned even though I had a complete set of blood test done just a few days before coming to the hospital. I found out later that it was a hospital procedure to have their own tests performed.

A little while later, the doctor of anesthesia came in and reviewed my status and talked about what was to go on.

Dr. McGinn came in a little while later and we spoke briefly. She said she would see me soon.

The anesthesiologist gave me a shot and said "This is a shot to relax you and get you ready for the surgey."

I knew what that meant. I kept repeating to myself "Remember! Remember!" I didn't want to just fall asleep in the changing area. A nurse came and wheeled me down the hall. I was starting to feel a little woozy. I was wheeled into the operating room. I saw the lamps and operating table where I would be spending the next five hours or so. There were people setting things up for the procedure

Then...

***LIGHTS OUT***

Hey lookit wot I found!!!

Hey lookit wot I found!!!

While pawing through old pictures, my daughters found a number of pictures from their childhood.

Among them was a picture I thought was long lost. It is below.

It is from circa 1985 on the crossdressers favorite holiday, Halloween.

My spouse, piglet, and I had been invited to a costume party at a friends house. We had been instructed to have outfits that were from a theme or had something in common.

While discussing what we could do, piglet said: "You could go as a girl..."

She had known of my crossdressing since before we were married and didn't have a problem with it. So this was right up my alley.

The party was on Saturday night, so my preparation began on Friday night.

The first thing to go was my goatee which I had worn for about fifteen years. That was the most difficult part. It was part of my masculine masquerade so parting with it was a bit of turmoil for me, but being able to be out dressed as a woman was more than enough motivation.

My skin underneath the beard was very sensitive because it hadn't been shaved. I had a bit of razor burn as a result.

Also that night, piglet put my hair up in curlers to prepare it for the styling on the next day. That was my first experience with sleeping in curlers. Actually I haven't done it since. I hope I don't have a reason to do it again. Think of sleeping on a porcupine and you'll get the idea.

Saturday, the curlers came out and my hair was styled in the afternoon. A friend of ours from down the street came and helped with my makeup.

After that I put on some pantyhose, a girdle, and a bra stuffed with my wifes stockings. She thought stockings would be better than balloons since balloons can be popped by Halloween revelers at the party.

Next came the mini skirt and the crop top. Because my feet were too large I ended up wearing a pair of my sneakers which kind of made a fashion statement.

Piglet butched up her hair and put on a jean outfit.

We were ready. Sean Penn and Madonna. Well, kind of, if you closed one eye and squinted real hard...

She handed me my jacket and opened the door to the outside for me. I froze. "You mean out there?"

Realize this was the very first time I had ever gone out dressed as a female. Everything else I had done was in the confines of the house.

I took a deep breath and stepped outside.

As a dry run, piglet thought it would be a good idea to go visiting before we headed out to the party. oh boy.

Our first stop was a friends house. I went up and knocked on the door while piglet stayed in the shadows.

My fiends wife, Pat, answered the door and stared at me uncomprehendingly.

"Can I help you?"

"Pat! It's me." I used my male voice because I had no knowledge at that time of how to feminize my voice.

All of a sudden the light dawned on her face. She was incredulous. She brought us into the house and announced to my friend that he had a visitor. My friend did not recognize me either until I spoke.

We sat and chatted for a bit and Pat said that the first thing to go through her mind when she answered the door was; "What does this ugly woman want!?"

Ugly or not, the fact that I passed as female struck a chord in me that would later get much more intense.

Our next stop was my parents house.

My father and mother also didn't recognize me until I spoke. For the rest of the evening my father referred to me as his second daughter. Something I sometimes wish could have really come true. Both my mother and my father passed before I came out. And I feel that if I had really come out to them while they were alive, I don't think it would have been as readily accepted as my Halloween prank.

When we got to the party, nobody recognized me at first. Again it was my voice that gave me away.

Interestingly, through out the night, people spoke and treated me in a mostly feminine way. I also responded as a female. Or at least how I thought a female should respond.

I even gave a little squeak when my skirt was flipped up from behind by a fellow with a sabre.

While I found the experience quite exhilarating, while dressed like that, I felt *normal*. No turn on, no erotic feelings. I just felt like how I should be dressed all the time.

Those thoughts and feelings too would return to me over and over again through the coming decades.

It took about two months for my goatee to grow back. I was glad to get it back. After all I couldn't let anyone know I was anything but masculine, could I?

What a long strange trip it's been!

-Sandy

Home again, home again...

Home again, home again...

Actually I returned home last Thursday.

The trip home was mostly uneventful with the exception of my actual flight. I was seated in the window seat. Then there were two people seated next to me who had to be assisted to their seat by the stews. It was pretty obvious that I wasn't about to be able to get to the lav for the length of the flight!

I only had one small cup of juice on the flight. I tried to sleep as much as possible.

Wrangling my luggage in the airports was harder than when I left for Philly because I was much more exhausted from the surgery.

My daughter met me at O'hare and drove me home. My granddaughter was asleep in her carseat and didn't wake up until we got home, but she was such a sight for sore eyes.

When we got home, I just wrestled my luggage to my bedroom and collapsed. By time I got undressed, I had a killer headache. I slept for about eighteen hours straight. And by time I woke up the headache was mostly gone, but I was still weak.

Just a note, ladies. Any major surgery is very debilitating to your system. Your body's stamina is virtually non-existent. So the twelve hours or so I spent packing and getting ready for my flight home, the flight itself and the trip back to the house wore me out completely. My brain was writing checks my body couldn't cash. So if and when you have any major surgery, just be sure to take things very easily.

Even today, I went out to do a couple of things and I was only out for about two hours. By time I got back, I ended up sleeping most of the afternoon.

One more thing. I have very little discomfort from the surgery and everything is working as planned. Dr Christine is pleased with the way I am healing. I am still quite sore, though, and my big orange donut is my constant companion.

I'm getting stronger though slowly so I'll start making more posts about my trip.

My passage through my transition is now complete and my life awaits. I am newborn.

Dr Christine asked me how I was feeling and I said:
"Never have I felt as free, never has the light been as bright, and never has the air smelled as sweet."

-Sandy

Hi from Doyestown!!!

Hi from Doyestown!!!

Ladies!

I am getting my strength back so I'll be able to post more soon.

My procedure went very well and the doctor says I'm doing better than ninety per cent of her patients.

I'm feeling great and no real pain to speak of.

I have so much to tell you about my time here! I'm still organizing my thoughts, but it has been wonderful!

Some of the things I'll be talking about later are;
the hospital stay
the procedure
hospital angels
and
a super secret surprise!

Anyway, ladies, I am tired right now and will rest, but will be posting more soon!

-Sandy(Live From Doyestown!)

Hi from PA!!!

Hi from PA!!!

Just a quick note, all.

I touched down in Philly this morning and I am now in my hotel. I can see the hospital where I'll be going from my window.

I have my consult with Dr. McGinn tomorrow, just after Kate has hers. There's some talk of all of us going out to lunch afterwards. That would be great!

Then I get sequestered to my room to "prepare" for the big day on Thursday. Something about being NPO after midnight is the easiest part. Those of you who have had surgery "south of the boarder" know about having to be er... clean. 'nuff said.

All my fears of going through airport security were just boogymen in my mind. I did set off the alarms as I thought I would, but I was quickly wanded down and sent on my way. It was the first time I had been patted down since I transitioned. I will say that being wanded and patted down by women is much more accommodating and understanding of my personal space than when I would get patted down as a guy.

Anyway, I breezed through security and had to wait for about two hours before my flight took off. But when my butt hit the seat, all the stress drained from my body and I fell asleep and didn't wake up until after we were in the air.

I guess I had more fear about that than anything else.

Well that part is over.

I'll post more as I get closer, than after my surgery, as I am able.

Thank you all for being there for me. It really helped me cope!

-Sandy(sleepy)

I will not trade one lie for another, but...

I will not trade one lie for another, but...

This is a first for me. And in the grand scheme of things not a big deal, but does make me wonder about which way to go.

A few weeks back I happened to strike up a conversation with a very nice lady on our shuttle bus. She was very friendly and passing the boring time on the bus with a conversation is nice. She also takes her train from the same depot I use so we walk from where the bus lets us off to the terminal. It's about a ten minute walk and we both remarked about being able to get some exercise was a good thing. She is a tall woman, nearly as tall as I am, so we both can walk very quickly. It's fun to have someone to pace your stride with.

Since this is my last week at work before heading out, I've been debating what to say to her about me being gone for several weeks.

What makes this difficult for me is that she is a recent employee here and has not heard about my transition. To me, I am just another woman in the workforce. And the possibility I may soon out myself to her is a first for me. All of my other outings have always revolved about me as a former male and moving on to female. With her, I may have to tell her I used to be male. She has no clue.

Well I started the conversation by telling her that I would be gone for a while in surgery. She asked if everything was all right. I told her that everything was fine.

After a few more minutes she asked what all I was going in for.

"Oh, just having some plumbing work done..."

"Been there done that!" she replied.

Not a lie, but not the truth...

"Which hospital are you going to?"

"I have to fly out to Philadelphia to see a specialist"

Still not lying, but not being truthful either.

"Well I hope everthing goes OK! Send me a note when you get back and I'll visit you since you live near me anyway."

"Thanks! I would love that!"

My first truthful statement.

I didn't give up the lie of masculinity just to hide behind my femininity. I feel that I need to be truthful with her, but it is just not one of those things you can just slide in the conversation. "Hi! How's your day been. Oh did I tell you I used to be a male?" In a casual context it is not necessary to tell everyone you meet who you are and really it is none of their business, but when a new friendship is at stake, I really don't feel right not being forth coming.

But maybe she doesn't want to know, so if I tell her it becomes Too Much Information.

But if I don't tell her and she finds out (a real possibility), she may be offended that I didn't trust her enough to tell her about myself.

I'm just a bit confused here, ladies. If anyone has had a similar thing happen to them, how did you handle it?

Thanks.

-Sandy

What a nice send off!

What a nice send off!

Today is my last day at work and one of my groupmates joined us for lunch. It was unusual for him to join us, usually he goes and does exercises. I figured that he wanted to visit with me before I head out.

Well, during lunch, he presented me with a wonderful card signed by the people in the office. I was so touched! Yeah, try as I might, I couldn't keep the waterworks from turning on...

I will put the card by my bedside when I am in the hospital. I'm still smiling!

-Sandy

Overcoming the last hurdle

Overcoming the last hurdle

As many of you may know, one of the things that told me I was on the right path with my transsexuality was that the insurance company would pay for my SRS. This is such an unusual position for an insurance company to make, I knew it must be fate.

I had verified this several times and with multiple people at the insurance company. The only real hitch was that since my surgeon was out of network, I would have to pay for the operation up front then be reimbursed for the procedure. Ok, no *big* deal, just arrange for a short term loan and then pay it off when the reimbursement check comes in.

Well after some scrambling, and finding out that it’s easier to borrow $5k than it is to borrow $16K, I ended up with a loan from one of the national credit card companies who arranged a line of credit for me. It’s a fixed term loan with an interest rate that is just a couple of points away from loan shark. Again, no real problem since all that would go away in just a few months anyway.

So I arranged for the operation and made the first few payments on the loan. It put a big dent in my disposable income, but I am one to keep my eye on the prize. Completing my transition is uppermost in my mind and felt this was a short term pain.

Now the insurance company put just three conditions on paying for my procedure. And they are:

1. Get a referral from the Primary Care Physician.
2. Have the referral approved by the medical group.
3. It must not be cosmetic surgery.

That seemed simple enough.

My PCP has been with me from the start of my process and had already agreed to write the referral, and the medical group is the main medical group for the LGBT community so I didn’t think that they would object, and, of course, having GRS is not cosmetic. It’s a medical necessity as listed in the DSM-IV for those patients diagnosed with GID.

Well, a few weeks ago I asked the doctor to start the process for the referral. He told me he would get right on it.

A few days later, I received a phone call from the clinic saying my referral had been denied!

I asked why, and the person at the clinic said that they didn’t know other than it was marked as “Not a Supported Benefit”.

I spent the next half of a day calling back and forth between the insurance company, the medical group, and the clinic to find out what went on.

What I found out was very enlightening. The referral was denied because cosmetic procedures are not allowed! As it turns out, the referral has to be written using the insurance company’s automated referral system. The automated referral system will only allow GRS to be entered as a cosmetic procedure!

Catch-22! You can't have a cosmetic procedure but the procedure can only be entered as cosmetic! This deceitful practice gave me a false sense of hope. And according to everyone in the loop none of it was their fault. No one was responsible for setting up the referral system that way, and no one could be found to find out why it was that way. Had I known that they would play these kind of games with my happiness and health I would have come up with alternative plans.

When I asked what recourse I had, the insurance company said that I could self pay… Thanks.

I asked what other options I had. They said that there was an appeals process. I could submit my reasons for opposing their denial and provide as much documentation as possible and they would consider a response. But I had only sixty days to file an appeal and they would respond within thirty days.

As you might expect, I was devastated! The loan I was expecting to pay off was now looking like a constant companion for the next eighty-four months!

I wasn’t going to let it get me down. At the minimum, none of these Machiavellian mind games would prevent me from having my GRS! Everything was already paid for. And since I had sixty days to respond, I wasn’t going to worry about it until I got back from Doylestown. I decided to sit back and enjoy the ride. I wasn’t going to let my frame of mind be twisted out of the near bliss I was feeling as I got closer to my surgery date.

I did, however start composing my appeal in my head and I contacted my therapists and doctors about the turn of events and asked them for a letter explaining why this surgery was not cosmetic. All of my “gender team” were very sympathetic and determined to do the very best they could for me.

I figured that once the letters came in I’d send the appeal through and worry about any other issues when I got back.

Certainly I was concerned, but I wasn’t going to let it stop me.

A few days after that, I started receiving letters. Two were not in my hand, however. One of my therapists insisted that they would send the letter directly to the appeals board. So I sent the information on where to send it, and I guess it was sent. My PCP happened to be on vacation and said that they would have it ready by time they returned from vacation.

Then a few days ago I got another phone call from the clinic. My denial had been rescinded!

Naturally I was over the moon with happiness! There was no explanation other than the denial had been changed to approved and was approved by the medical director.

I had not sent in my appeal yet so I was curious as to why the reversal came through. I initially surmised that my therapist had convinced them to change their minds based solely upon her appeal! If that was the case I was mightily impressed!

The next day however, I was scheduled to have my final blood tests done at the clinic. When I got there, I happened to run into my doctor. We hugged and I asked if he had heard about my appeal. He said no. I told him that his nurse had told me, so he should have checked with him. I told him what the nurse had told me and a smile lit his face.

What my doctor said was that he had contacted the insurance representative directly and he spent over an hour discussing my case with her. He explained why it was a medical necessity for me to have this procedure. He also submitted over THREE HUNDRED PAGES OF DOCUMENTATION in support of his position! In the eyes of the insurance company, unless a procedure will directly save a life, it is considered “cosmetic”. This of course is not the way the medical community sees things.

I am seriously indebted to my doctor. He went way beyond the extra mile for me. And because of his effort my last hurdle has been overcome.

-Sandy(enjoying the ride)

"Who is that?" she asked...

The other day I was playing with my granddaughter. She'll turn three while I'm away. She is very smart, even if you accept that I am such a doting grandmother.

Anyway, at one point she looked up at the mantle over the fireplace and pointed to the picture frame I have there. She asked to see the pictures. I brought it down and we looked at them.

The frame was one of those multiple picture type frames and I have it filled with pictures of her when she was smaller.

One of the pictures was taken at the hospital when she was just a few hours old. Her mom and dad were posed together holding the new arrival.
I pointed to each of the people and asked her who they were. She got her mom and dad right, but she didn't recognize herself. I told her that the tiny baby in the blanket was her when she was very small.

She looked at it for a second and said "OK." And that was all, she accepted what I said and went on.

We looked at other pictures that had her and other people in it, like my ex spouse. She picked up on them just as quickly and also knew who she was in the picture.

Then she pointed to another picture and asked "Who's that?"

I took a deep breath and said "That's grandma Sandy when she was a boy and had a beard."

She looked at it for a second and said "OK." And that was all, she accepted what I said and went on.

I know that I'll have to go into more detail someday, but for now, she is tabular rasa and accepting of the world as it is with no preconcieved notions. And if we're lucky she and hopefully others of her generation will learn the same lesson and simply say: "OK." And move on.

-Sandy

I got my Baby Back!

Last night, the nice people from the body shop dropped off my car and took away the PT Cruiser otherwise known as emphasima with wheels.

I must have used half a bottle of fabreeze in that rental and it still reeked of cigarettes. Yuck!

Anyway that car is gone, and my baby was back in my driveway. Of course the bumper looked brand new, that was probably because it was.

I could hardly wait to drive it this morning. And when I got up I found 3 inches of snow over sleet. So instead of getting to the train station quickly, I took it much slower, and so did most of the other drivers. So much so that I missed my early train. But my car is now sitting in the parking lot with no dings or bruises.

-Sandy

Owww! My new baby!!!!

Last week I decided to drive into work. I had a need to go to my clinic after work so I was going to drive in and then head for the clinic after that.

That particular day there had been a warm drizzle followed by a hard freeze.

I hadn't realized this when I headed out. I went to the gas station before I headed to the express way. As I was headed toward the expressway, the car's annunciator panel lit up saying "POSSIBLE ICE" then "LOW TRACTION" then the little icon light for the posi-track came on.

This is not good, I thought. It was much worse than that. It was the blackest of black ice I had ever seen! I came up to a stop light and I started slowing down about two blocks before the light. I was only going about 25-30 mph and I thought I had it all under control. No I didn't.

At about a block from the light, I started to apply the brakes. I felt the ABS kick in pushing back against the pedal. I was in horizontal free-fall! Nothing was slowing me down accept wind resistance and prayer.

There was only one car ahead of me at the light. She was stopped. I was slowing down but not enough. By the time I came up to the light, I had slowed to less than five mph. I tapped her bumper. Well at least THAT stopped me!

I got out of the car to examine the damage. As I did, I almost fell on my butt! It was like a skating rink! I felt that I could have pushed the car sideways if I wanted to! Well at least the car was telling the truth! There was definite ice!

The lady whose car I hit was driving a big SUV and so I didn't even knock the snow off her bumper. She got out and we checked her car and it was fine. She looked at my car and said I had some damage. I turned around and I think I squeaked! There was a HOLE shattered in my babies bumper!!!! I had hit the lady's hitch adapter and it had poked a hole in my baby!

I was a bit surprised by that. After all the impact was less than five mph, the bumper should have absorbed the impact. The only thing I can figure is that the temperature was almost zero and I think the plastic in the bumper got very brittle.

*sigh* *whimper*

I exchanged information with the lady, but she said that there didn't look to be any damage to her car.

I proceeded to get on the expressway intending to still get to work. As I got on the expressway, I saw a jackknifed truck in the opposite lane. I also saw two or three spun out cars on the side of the road. Then the car in front of me spun out. All this in less than a mile of getting on the expressway. I never got above twenty mph! About that time, I decided that it would be a great day to work from home!

I got off the expressway as soon as I could and headed back home.

I called the insurance people and they offered to send out a truck to pick up the car and take it to the body shop. I agreed. They also offered me a rental car while mine was in the shop. I said yes to that as well.

So a couple of hours later, the truck comes to my house with the rental car. He drops off the rental then I pull my car out of the driveway so he can load it up on the truck. My poor baby! It looked so forlorn sitting on the truck waiting to go see the car doctor.

To put the topper on the day as a whole, the rental car they dropped off was a PT Cruiser. The same type of car I had traded in no more than a week before! What makes it worse is that the previous renters of that car smoked in it! It reeks! I nearly gag every time I get into the stupid thing!

I can't wait for my baby to get back to me...

-Sandy

My new baby...

I was visiting piglet a couple of weeks ago in Indy and she now works for a Saturn dealer there.

I hat remarked that I was getting tired of driving the PT Cruiser I had and she suggested I take a look at Saturn's selection.

Well, to make a long story short (I know, I've never really done that, have I?), I drove down in the Cruiser but I drove back in a 2008 Saturn Aura. nice... Very nice!

She is a grayish blue color called ocean mist. I wanted RED but they were out of stock... darn! But ocean mist is a nice color for her...

She is sleek and smooth and ready to rock! She has get up and go and always seems to be "straining at the bit" to kick in the afterburners! A few days after I got her, I passed 100MPH for the first time in many, many years. And she still had plenty of pedal left! OOOooohhhh! Fast women in fast cars!

I don't drive recklessly but having the ability to get up to speed quickly is really sweet!

-Sandy(I'm NOT a lead foot! well...)

Catching up...

Ok, it's been quite a while since I posted anything, though not because I didn't want to. I've just been very preoccupied.

Coming up in just a couple of weeks is my final operation and I am getting very anxious right about now. Not for any particular reason, just a free floating anxiety. I haven't flown since before 9/11 and I really don't know what to expect. I've heard all sorts of horror stories about being randomly selected for a background check.

I'm not worried about my documentation, about the only piece of documentation that still lists me as male is my birth certificate. My drivers license and my Social Security records all list me as female so I am not particularly worried about that.

Jeez, all this bull and presumption of guilt just to get on a damn plane. I'd rather drive there. Driving there is not the problem. Driving *back* would be incredibly difficult since I'd have to stop three or four times a day to dilate. And I'd be sitting on a donut as well. And be pretty uncomfortable to boot! No, I'll brave the nightmare of preflight security checks and a guaranteed call out by our Patriot Act brown shirts er TSA officers to grope me because I have three pounds of stainless steel in my shoulder. I'm so glad the the government is of the people, by the people, and for the people. It's just that some people are more equal than others...

I'm not worried about the operation. Hell I've spent decades, literally, waiting for this moment. I researched and prepared for years. I've watched so many videos of various doctors performing the gender reassignment surgery that I probably call out which instruments the doctor was using at any particular time. No, once I check into the hospital, I'll probably bliss out until I wake up from the anesthesia.

Anyway, I'm just a little high strung right now. And getting more so as it gets closer to my flight out of here. Also I keep gaining weight when I want to be going in the opposite direction. Stress will either make you gain or lose weight. This time I'm gaining,. If I so much as smell anything sweet, I gain a pound. At least my boobs still stick out farther than my gut. I wish the fat was in my butt though, I'm still kind of flat back there.

A lot of my nervousness also has to do with trying to make sure I've got everything covered before I leave. My travel and lodging arrangements are complete, most of my pre-surgical tests are done and I just have to get my blood work done about March 3rd or so. The Dr. wants the blood work to be no older than two weeks prior to surgery.

Now I have to start thinking of packing. Since I'll be spending a lot of time "exercising", comfort and ease of removal is the fashion tip of the week. So track suits and sweat pants will be my major clothing items. then the standard other things, like shoes, cosmetics and skin care. I'm not sure what sort of consumables I should take, like pads and lube. The doctor said she had some pointers, but I haven't heard back from her yet. Besides, I never start packing until the last minute anyway.

I actually had a point in mind when I started this post and I wandered everywhere accept to the point.

The point was that I haven't posted in a while because I haven't been able to keep a thought in my head long enough to sit down and compose a post!

-Sandy(woman, thy name is DITZ!)

I can never pass...

I can never pass...

It struck me the other day that somewhere along the way, I crossed some sort of barrier and I didn't realize it.

I can never pass as a guy again. No matter what I did, I will always look like a girl in guy clothes.

I could bind my chest, but I'd still have roundness under any tight fitting shirt.

I could put on a false mustache or beard but my softend face would still give me away.

My mannerisms have become quite comfortable for me since I came out. That would probably be the hardest thing to change. That's one of the reasons why I was picked on as a child is because of my feminine mannerisms.

My speech patterns have become distinctly feminine and I would have to think about everything I said to make sure it didn't come out too "girly".

Also I am so used to raising the pitch of my voice, and speaking in a more pinched tone that I would be very consious of keeping my voice low and making sure it didn't start to rise.

Then there are the clothes... I literally don't have a thing to wear! REALLY! I gave away all my guy clothes months ago.

About the only thing left that could be used to help me pass as a guy would be my bone structure but even then I see women on the street all the time that are big boned or large stature.

Like I said I could never pass. And why would I ever want to?!

-Sandy

Time marches on...

Time marches on...

In just over a month, I make my trek to Doylestown for my GRS. All my travel and lodging arrangements have been made, most of my medical tests are done and shipped to Dr. Christine. I'll complete my medical tests early in March since the results have to be no older than two weeks. My genital electrolysis is complete with a touch up scheduled for the end of the month.

It's just a matter of time and watching the clock.

Unlike my FFS/BA which was like an unending wait for "Christmas", this seems much different. If I could put it into some sort of context, I just want it done and behind me. I think women who are pregnant may have the same feeling. Being pregnant can be really tedious and the process of childbirth can be REALLY uncomfortable, but the blessed result is worth all the wait.

I think that's where I'm at right now. I am not so much looking forward to the operation, so much as I am really anxious to have all this behind me. Most of my life has completed it's transition and this is the last piece of the puzzle. I'm not necessarily looking forward to seeing my newly formed genitalia for the first time as I just want it all to be over so I can complete my transition and no longer feel like I am half and half.

I know I'll be taking on a new habit that will be with me for the rest of my life (dilation) and that intercourse will be on a spectrum from numb to mind blowing with a small but measurable chance that I may never have sensation there at all. All of us that walk this path have to realize that. And I think that to most of us, that wasn't the reason we got on this roller coaster. To us, being a woman is so much more, so many things, that simply having a (neo)-vagina doesn't come close to making us feel complete as women, but not having one is like a puzzle with a piece missing (or if you want to be a bit crass a puzzle with a piece that sticks out).

"Like sand through an hourglass, these are the Days of Our Lives." (So-Crates from "Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure")

-Sandy

They've moved in...

It's been a few weeks and I haven't been posting simply because I've been fighting a rather recalcitrant computer with less that acceptable results. Best two falls out of three... Actually, the computer may win the occasional battle, I *always* win the war!

Anyway, a few weeks ago Jen, Bill and Kara moved in with me. The details are as interesting as they are tedious. I won't go into them simply because some of the details are so fantastic as to defy logic. Most are so tedious as to induce coma. Anyway, they no longer reside in a dank basement and now have more appropriate accommodations here at the transition house.

It just struck me that every human in this place are in some form of transition. I am in transition from male to female, Jen et al, are in transition from a dank basement to eventually having an apartment of their own, and my friend downstairs is in transition to a better life.

How interesting.

-Sandy

Reverend Brown

Reverend Brown

Piglet has been in communication with one of our mutual acquaintances who I’ll refer to as Reverend Brown.

In bringing him up to date on why she is in Indianapolis and why we are no longer married, he replied that he was happy that everything seemed to be working out and that he was glad I had found my path. “Though of course, I could never condone it.”

Now I’m not going to get all snarky on Reverend Brown like I did on “Rev” Felps. I have worked with this man on many occasions on stage and I know that he has love in his heart and follows his calling. He is a man of great humility and wonderful humor. Also his family is loving and caring. So I know that he truly is happy for me. So we’ll leave the snarkies out of this.

It did make me wonder though. Where does one draw the line between a valid medical condition and a sinful betrayal of God?

Let’s say diabetes. A condition by the way that Reverend Brown must deal with. Of course no one, except a rabid Christian Scientist, would even think of saying that this isn’t a valid medical condition and must be treated.

Well, how about a broken limb? Actually in many cases if nothing is done the limb will heal on its own. Though of course it may heal a little bent. But again no one would hesitate in recommending that it be treated medically.

Let’s leave the physical and go into mental issues. If a person has clinical depression, again, no one would argue for a minute that the best recourse was to seek medical support. Whether that support was drug related or had some sort of surgical intervention would not be questioned.

So what is the bugaboo about gender?

I have not spoken to Reverend Brown since I came out so I have not been able to question him directly about this.

I can speculate that if you say that “God does not make mistakes”, then dealing with medical issues in a medical way does not question faith but perhaps allows the person to become *more* faithful through the fulfillment of medical intervention by relieving them of the propblem they had.

And that if a person has been given a particular internal burden such as transsexuality, and then if they succumb to the inner drive to become true to themselves then are they giving in to sin since they did not use faith and prayer to put those sinful thoughts out of their mind?

Could it not also be that if “God doesn’t make mistakes” and a person follows their heart and becomes true to themselves, couldn’t they also be following a path of faith?

Only Goddess knows…

If anyone has any opinions about this please let me know, for I am truly curious.

-Sandy

How to tell if you are transsexual...

How to tell if you are transsexual...

I'm also sure that the answer has occurred to anyone who has spent any time with an electrologist!

I'm proceeding on with my facial clearing and I am having regular sessions with my electrologist. Fortunately I'm blessed with little facial hair so the amount of time I'll spend getting my face cleared is not all that great. Something on the order of 10 to 20 hours, which is much less than other girls in a similar position.

But still as I lay on the table this last week, and have each hair zapped and the resultant sting that goes with it, and there will be literally thousands of those stings, I realized that no one would do this for *fun*! Also this is not vanity. At least not from the standpoint of wanting to make myself more beautiful. It is to help re-enforce my image as a woman.

There are others who have asked "How can I tell?" as they embark on their journey. All I can say is that if you are willing, and in many cases eager, to put yourself through the discomfort that comes with feminizing your body, then you are trans.

Spend an hour in the chair sometime, and if you not only can endure it but want to come back for more, then you are a transsexual.

I don't know if there are similar issues with FTM transsexuals. Can any of you guys tell us what there might be on your road that might help give an idea as to how to tell?

-Sandy

I shoulda stayed in bed!

While not the day from hell, it certainly was the day from heck!

It started last night. My two daughters and my granddaughter met me at the train station. They had spent the day at the aquarium and wanted a lift home. It was one of those January thaws and the temperature was a balmy 62 degrees. There was some spitting of rain but nothing severe.

Well, by time we got to our stop, all that had changed. It was a monsoon! Heavy rain, lightning, thunder and high winds.

In the time it took to get downstairs from the platform I was drenched. My hair was soaked and dripping down my back and my hose was soaked too. I really should know better than to wear a skirt when there is a threat of rain. But it was such a nice day *up to then*!

I took the kids to dinner and then home. By time I got back I was still sodden and everything was sticking to me. I had a right fine chill and immediately changed and went to bed early. All the while the rain never let up.

This morning, it was still raining when I got up and looked like it would continue throughout the day.

I debated about driving in since I had a root canal to go to today and I thought I could go straight from the office to the clinic. Then I thought better of it. I was sure the rain would foul up traffic horrendously and I would spend a tedious amount of time on the road.

The trains are very reliable and rain rarely is any problem for them.

Well I drive to the train station and trot to the platform dodging the puddles that should now be fitted with diving boards and scurry under the nearly flooded bridge which the occasional fool thinks it's fun to splash the pedestrians. I hope there is karma to be paid for that stunt.

I get on the early train hoping to get in early so I can leave early for my dentist appointment. Well that isn't to be. About halfway downtown, the train stops. We find out that the power to the train was dropped because the train behind us *caught fire*! They dropped power so they could evacuate the passengers and put out the fire.

Now I've been riding the Metra Electric for over twenty years and I can there have only been a few times where the trains were over fifteen minutes late. And NEVER have any of the reasons been due to a fire!

We sat there for almost an hour! By the time we go moving again, I was sure I would have missed all the shuttle buses that pick up from the train stations. So I decided to go directly to the main bank building and catch the shuttle from there. They arrive every fifteen minutes and run throughout the day.

Except today. The shuttle is actually more like forty five minutes late as the traffic downtown is at a standstill from all the rain. That is something I'll never understand. Why traffic moves slower the longer it rains. When it snows, that is understandable, but rain?

So now instead of getting in about half an hour early, I'm actually almost two hours late! I am not a happy camper by that time at all!

And I still had my root canal to go to!

Whenever I have one of *those* days, I try not to do too much because I have the everything-I-touch-magically-turns-to-crap talent turned on.

I get through the day more or less uneventfully and get to the dentists office on time and fill out the paperwork for the procedure. The procedure goes uneventfully enough and I stupidly think to myself that maybe I'm getting out of the bad and into the not-so-bad.

Ha!

Just now I noticed that the temporary filling that the dentist put in had fallen out. I'll have to get in touch with my regular dentist to refill it! And it's starting to ache.

I shoulda stayed in bed!!!

-Sandy (maybe under the bed would be better!)

Such a wonderful Christmas Season gift!

This past weekend, my sister and I, put on a kind of post-Chrstmas / pre-New Years party. We invited everyone in the family and friends and many of the folks made it.

During the course of the evening, my daughter leaned over to me and whispered in my ear that she was pregnant again! I'm going to be a grandmother again!

My eyes filled with tears of happiness as I hugged her to me. I was so suprised. She is due in August and I hope and pray that everything goes well.

I could have not asked for a more wonderful gift!

Of course my young granddaughter will still be doted on to extremes by me, but there is plenty of love in my heart for both of these wonderful lives!

-Sandy