Suddenly it feels like the countdown has begun…albeit with one early abort point on 1 June, of which more in a moment.
I now have my letter from Brighton (or rather, letters, plural, which cover mostly the same ground but slightly differently).
That sets down that on July 12 I will enter the operating theatre as still reasonably male and leave it some hours later as a good deal more female. (Note, please, the rejection of essentialism!).
That’s about eight and a half weeks still to go. Although, as mentioned above, if the electrolysist thinks I won’t be ready when she next tortures me (on 1 June), then its all change. Fingers crossed.
First problem: I need to start smoking either tomorrow or Monday.
Well, otherwise, I don’t see how I’m going to meet the first target of stopping smoking on 17 May, eight weeks out from the target date!
Two weeks later, and still six weeks out, on 31 May, I must stop taking oestrogen. Ugh! Horrid idea, but I guess it has to happen.
A week after that, on 7 June, I get the latest and hopefully last of my anti-androgen injections.
5 July, I should be drug-free. Note to self (and milkman, who has branched out in surprising and innovative ways of late): cancel the coke.
Monday 11 July, arrive at clinic, complete with large overnight bag, plenty of comfy nighties, some casual clothes and a lunchbox.
Some time that evening, I get my last meal for some while…and wake – oh joy! – to an early morning enema on Tuesday.
More detail to follow.
I am excited. I am so, so terrified.