Cleared for surgery with 7 days to go

A new kind of being born again

There is a joyful parallel in the Christian creation story and the last 7 days before surgery…I am not making parallels to personal divinity, but instead thinking of the process of becoming, the intent that must be embedded in it, and the miracle of creation.  People keep noting that what I am experiencing is a rebirth, almost a life in reverse. As I have been on hormones, experiencing what is known as second puberty, so much has changed in my brain and my body, and my whole being feels so much younger now.  That the boy that I have been will go to sleep now, and that the woman I am becoming emerges into the light.

At the 7 day mark I had a battery of doctor’s visits to ensure I am “ready for surgery”.  Blood tests, heart, probing questions, urine analysis.  I was in need of an okay, and knowing that all would get to my surgeon in time for her to say ‘yes’.  I was so nervous about it that I went to a Quest Diagnostics facility to get a jump on the bloodwork.  Just as well I did as the turnaround time from my new doctor wouldn’t have made it.  They send it to Quest, and it would have meant a lost day.

I waited in the lobby, and a rather fetching young trans woman came in.  The fetching part went out the window when her behaviour, slightly maniacal, crowded out every space and every thought in the waiting room.  She was under the influence of something, wanting to spend the day out of the rain, afraid to go home because it wasn’t safe.  I looked at some of the signage on the wall and noted that one read that the medical clinic, one of the few that serves the trans community, and works largely with volunteer doctors and nurses, read:

“With the launch of GIFT (Guaranteed Income for Trans People) last year, we received unprecedented media attention.  Some of the response has included hateful messages about the work we do, our community, and who we are.  We want to ensure our patients and staff are safe and protect each other from these white supremacist ideologies.  As part of this goal, we have employed trained security staff as a temporary measure to ensure the safety of our staff and patients.”

sign at my trans health doctor’s office

I noticed that you couldn’t get in without being buzzed in, and screened.  This is the ugly side of America and its most beautiful at the same time.  When people band together as volunteers, give of themselves, and do so in the face of prejudice, while it is at once bittersweet, it is also humanity’s most shining moment.

I did not dress appropriately for having an EKG.  I should have just worn a button-down shirt and jeans.  But instead, it is the doctor after all, I wore stockings and a blouse, and nice lingerie.  The impractility of it came out as the doctor’s assistant, nervous and embarrassed in equal measure told me about each item, one at a time, that would have to come off.

“I’m going to have to put electrodes on your chest, you’ll have to take your shirt off.”

“Okay,” I said.

“I’m sorry,” they said.  “You can just put on this gown with the opening at the front.  I’ll leave you to get changed,” they said, drawing the modesty curtain.

“Oh, I think you’ll have to take your stockings off.  I’m sorry.  The electrodes need to go on your skin.”

“That’s okay.”

“I’m sorry.  I’ll just go outside now.”

I undressed.  When they came back, I asked, “Am I to be lying on this bed?”

“Yes.”

And then, “I just need you to open your gown, so that I can place these electrodes across your chest.”

“Okay,” I said opening it.

“I’m sorry,” they said.  “This might be a little uncomfortable, but I need to place these in specific places, okay?”

“Yes.”

I can’t remember the technical terms for the placement, but they asked me before each one, and told me to raise my arm a bit, or open my gown further, or apologized for being so close to one of my breasts.  And when it was one, I was hooked up, and then it was done.

The print out came, and they said, “I’m going to go show this to the doctor and will leave you hooked up in case I need to make any changes, okay?”

“Yes.”

I waited for what seemed quite a while.  And then they came back.  “I need to do it again, it seems that two of the sensors didn’t read well.  I need to move them.  Oh, and this one is coming unattached, I’ll do that too.”

There was fiddling, reattachment and apology.  The process was repeated.  Results spat out.  They disappeared.  This time, returning with the doctor.

“This doesn’t look quite right,” the doctor said, “you’re healthy, but some of the readings are off.  The machine is a bit fiddly.  We’ll do it again.”

This time the doctor oversaw the adjustment of the electrodes, making sure they were placed correctly just where they needed to be.  The lab tech apologized.  “Those nurses who work on emergency wards just slap them on and it always works.  I’m sorry I’m not better at this.”

“That’s all right.”

“Oh, there’s the tattoo,” the doctor noted.  “It’s beautiful.”  It is my favourite reason for getting naked.

“Okay, let’s go,” the tech said and turned on the machine.  The results spat out.  The doctor looked at them.  Was obviously not happy.

“I don’t like what I’m seeing,” they said.  

“What’s that?”

“Well, you seem totally healthy, plus your heart rate has dropped from 52 to 41,” they continued.

“Yes, I have a low heart rate, I’m a bit of a fitness nut.”

“But it shows here that you have a serious heart anomaly.  I want to send you to the hospital, where they have a specialist unit, and better equipment, and can take a closer look.”

“But will I be able to do it in time?”

“I think so.  I’m going to send you to the emergency room, and I’ll call ahead so that they receive you immediately.”

“It sounds serious.”

“I’m sure you’re fine, but we don’t want to take chances.”

I was starting to freak out.

“Umm,” butted in the lab tech.  “I’m dyslexic.  I think that I got my ‘right side’ not hers.”  They both looked at me.  “Maybe that’s why.”  They both looked at me again.  “I’m sorry,” the lab tech said.

“It’s okay,” the doctor said.

“Maybe it will make a difference,” I said.  Everything readjusted and they began the test.  I spoke during it, not knowing that I was not supposed to.

“Uh oh,” said the lab tech, “she spoke, will that ruin the results?”

“Here they come now,” the doctor said, “let’s see.”  The lab tech handed them over.  

“Okay,” the doctor said, “all clear.  You are as fit as a fiddle.  Let me just write up the approval for surgery.”

“Oh my gosh, thank you.”  Everyone smiled at each other.

“I’m sorry about that,” the lab tech said as they undid the electrodes.

“It’s okay,” I said.

“You can get dressed now.”

Outside of the clinic it had stopped raining.  The weather had gone from miserable to golden.  My lawyer called me to tell me that the Judge had ordered that my own money be released to me so that I can pay for surgery.  My wife is very angry about it, but you can see that the sun was shining in other ways too.  Do you know my superstition about finding pennies on the street, the pennies from heaven?  Well, on this day, a few minutes later, I found three quarters.  I know any day that I find a penny on the street is a good day, but the more I find, the better the day becomes.

As I walked along, basking in the sunshine, a rather good looking black man stared at me from where he stood in front of a parking garage.  As I drew abreast, he said, “witchcraft.”  There are few words that would have stopped me, but that was one of them.

“I’m sorry,” I said with an upward lilt.

“Witchcraft,” he said, “you doin’ some powerful lady, but you a man, ain’t ya.”

“Not so much anymore Daddy.  I’m working on it.”

“You do you,” he said.  I continued on my way.

I learned from my endocrinologist that the most powerful way to feminize the body is through exercise.  That some of the products and by-products of hormones have a profound effect on tissue, fat distribution, bones, and muscle.  “The more you work your body, the more powerful the results you will get, including breast growth.  So keep working out.”

“But I can’t workout for the next six months.  My doctor has told me to take it easy.”

“Ask her what you can do and when, and try to get back to being mobile as soon as you can.  Not doing anything difficult, but just keeping your body going.”

I do see and feel change in me.  I also feel it in my brain, in cellular feeling through all of me.