I do hope no-one who has been reading this blog over the last week or so has been getting the wrong impression, viz. that its all horrid and pain and no gain and therefore, just maybe, very soon the dread regrets will be setting in.
Nothing could be further from the truth, though its been a harder road initially than i expected, and some slight worry that i haven’t had the “magic moment” of denouement that others describe so enthusiastically.
So first, why blog the ick stuff?
– because i do. I would rather cover the whole experience than give you selected highlights;
– because i’m a wuss. If i’m in pain, i want others to know, possibly in the forlorn hope that someone will decide to treat me with palliative mint chocolate;
– because others don’t. i have no intention to scare the horses, but i think that the post-op stuff is rather less well covered than the pre-op and the dramatic moments. This is not an easy period, but it should put no-one off: just that you need to be better prepared than, maybe, i was.
So. How’s it been?
First few days were a mess. Being on one’s back with one’s genitals tightly padded is both painful and little change from before. No sense at all of change and loads of teeth gritting to endure.
On sunday, the day when other trans women have talked of personal epiphany, i was disappointed to feel little more. The bandages came off to reveal a Frankenstein horror between my legs. I was still very numb, scared to touch myself, woozy….
Baasically, it didn’t work for me. Didn’t feel like a mistake. Just felt like a massive anti-climax.
Add the next few days of bowel and bladder problems. The rapidly enforced dilation regime. Being back on the dreaded catherter. The pain, the pain, the pain….
You might expect me to have started to question my decision. Except, the opposite seems to be happening.
I just pushed thru, as i do, with stoic determination. I’ve found a routine for dilation and douching and have the entire procedure now down to about 50 minutes (including post-dilatory bath).
And each day is getting better. Not just less pain. But a growing sense of joy. A smile that comes to my lips now when i think about my body.
Its that “small thing” sense of joyfulness i mentioned a few weeks back: the happiness i get when i brush my hair in the morning, or get dressed and feel good about myself.
This is so, so right it makes me cry. This, finally, is MY body.
There’s a moral in there somewhere: if this is right for you, the suffering is more than worth it. But each of us need to find our own way thru it.
No great, sudden realisations for me. Just a slow build that’s not finished yet.
If i sometimes go quiet now, don’t worry. That’ll just be me, seized by the moment and the ecstacy: overwhelmed by happiness.
Was it worth it?
Do you really need to ask?