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As
previously stated in my blog my journey of transition has taken me
eleven years to complete, for me it has be a growing period and an
enlightening one to say in the least.
Over
the last few months while I have been on Tzone and been made a mod,
I have read some disparaging reports about being on the NHS, and the
perceived delay in treatments.
I too
had heard
rumours
about certain Doctors and how they treated you, and when it was my
first appearance in front of Prof G at charring cross, I was shaking
in my boots. I even spilled it out to the receptionist I was so
nervous. She smiled and told me not to worry that the doctor
wouldn’t bite; he was there to help me. I sat down in the waiting
room and repeated her words over and over again; he’s here to help
me, if I clam up and act daft how he can help me. First impressions
count. Eventually he called my name, and didn’t he look ruff and
tired, but beyond that his face settled my nerves.
I
wasn’t prepared for the interrogation, (that’s what it felt like at
first) as I sat in his leather chair, over and over again over the
many years we spent together for 45 minutes 4 times a year, some
times it was easy to answer his questions and other times it was
hard, but the questions being asked are there to help you understand
what your about to undertake and only you can answer them, and they
can only work on what you have told them, and if for any reason they
are concerned they will hold back until you have proven your self.
At
the beginning he asked me what he could do for me, I was stunned to
say in the least, and wondered if I had arrived at the right clinic
as I presumed that he new already. So I told him, I am male in a
female body, can you help me?
We
went through my childhood he asking various questions and what my
hope and dreams where. Prof G. then told me what he expected from me
and the hoops that had been set out by the bigger bosses up above,
and only then after three years would I then be considered for
further treatment. It didn’t matter what I had done before I met
him, if I wanted help from him and the NHS then this is what I had
to do. I asked how long it would take me to transition and he told
me you’re looking at least ten years, I was dumb struck to say in
the least. But you have to look at the reasons behind it all.
1)
Live in the gender I have chosen for two years
2)
Work full time, collage, or voluntary work, in the chosen gender
3)
Lose weight,
4)
Change my name
5)
Stop smoking.
That
was the easy part and only the start of it, for me I had a young
family too and a new relationship, to contend with as well as
friends of which at the beginning of those three years slowly
dwindled away. I lost my daughter, she decided to leave home at the
age of thirteen and put herself into the hands of social services,
as she felt that my partner and I could not protect her from
societies bullying. One occasion my daughter had her ankle broken in
two places and had to have an operation to have it bolted back
together again. This was done at her school by pupils who new about
our circumstances. To this very day she’d be twenty two now, and
I’m a granddad, but I have not seen them. The wars we had affected
us all.
Then
there was the battle in myself seeing the destruction I was causing
in my children’s lives, my son had lost his sister, he was away at
the time, he had saved up his money during the winter months to take
a holiday in Norfolk with a friend, he was ten at the time.
The
day he came home, he sat on the kitchen work surfaces and cried his
eyes out all he kept saying was “why, he couldn’t understand why she
wanted to leave. I had to tell him the truth, she had been stealing
from us for along time and I had caught her red handed, we had a row
and it nearly got out of hand, I nearly thumped her one, but stopped
myself in time and shout out to her that if she couldn’t live under
my rules in this house then she had better leave, she did, she went
to social services, I went after her and found her sitting in the
waiting room with two bars of chocolate, two packets of sandwiches
and two cans of drink all courtesy from social services. I asked
her to come home and we could sit and sort it out, and she told me
she didn’t want to come home, she had made up her mind. I felt like
screaming at her, but that would only cause a seen, and only make
matters worse. It was the hardest thing I had ever done was to walk
out of that building leaving her behind. I got home and had to deal
with the consequences of my actions, at first it was all about me,
how she had hurt me, but hang on one moment, haven’t I hurt her, she
thought she had a mother all these years and now I want to be her
dad, if the rest of society finds it hard to understand what I’m
doing, how can a thirteen year old girl going through puberty
possibly get to grips with it. Even when Prof G asked to see the
kids so that he could see the how they felt about it all she had the
courage to give him what he wanted to hear, when I asked her why she
did that that, she told me “so that it wouldn’t stop my transition”,
that she did love me but she couldn’t live with us.
My
son was also confused but not by what I was doing, he said I wasn’t
very good at this mum stuff and that he saw me as whom I was, he
couldn’t really explain but he felt that it was right for me. He was
missing his sister and finally he decided to go and live with her,
but after three months can home, he missed my wife and me so much
and also realized which side the bread was buttered lol. As if
those battles where enough to be getting on with.
Friends both gay and straight gave my wife and me a hard time, after
some heavy drinking on there behalf they would let there feelings
show there true
colours
and then deny all knowledge of there remarks when sober. Thank god I
didn’t have a mother and father and the rest of the brood to cope
with, that would have been well another type of hell.
I was
told to my face by a very angry mother, who said to me “I shouldn’t
have had kids”, I was aware of that fact, but I was not aware at the
time of the help that was around and I lived in denial for many
years, trying to be the person everyone thought I was. This led too
many brake downs and suicidal incidents. Then back in 1995 I ended
up in a long stay hospital where I started to put the pieces back
together and finally I was able to come out of the closet.
I
believed that this journey was going to get a lot easier, but it
only got harder as time went on.
Then
there was “going out” like normal people? do at the weekend, but it
didn’t just happen at weekends no it happened nearly every time my
wife and I went out, adults and teenagers would literally stop us in
the street and ask that awful question, “What are you” then they
would laugh and giggle and shout rude comments, which made my blood
boil, and on one occasion a gentleman got thumped in the face for
looking strangely at my wife, I’m not proud of that incident. There
have been other incidents where I have been almost threaten to be
beaten to a pulp but managed to get out of it with out any physical
damage, but mentally left me slightly scared and very aware of the
dangers that lurk around every corner of society when my wife and I
go out.
Then
my day came and I was given the go ahead for receiving my hormones
another load of changes, again physical and mental ones but these
where my by own doing, my first injection I expected my periods to
stop almost immediately, it took nine months for them to stop,
eighteen months to grow a full bred and two years for my voice to
drop and stay stable. The dreadful acne, and the Constance sweats
and mood swings. In the process my temper flared up, anxieties my
sex drive rocketed, in my case it only flared up once when I got the
instructions wrong and my doctor injected me twice with
testosterone, over two days it was my fault entirely as I missed
heard the information given to me by prof G. This could have lead to
a heart attack or much worse death.
The
relationship with my wife was tough going, it wasn’t because we
didn’t love each other, we did very much, but what we fell into was
“well you’re a boy and you’re a girl and you should be doing this
and I should be doing that,” it just didn’t work, finally we got
ourselves sorted, and realized you cannot wipe away half your life
and forget what you have been taught to do, what we needed to do was
to embraces what we can do and use it to our advantage. I.e. I’m no
good at painting, wood work and stuff like that, but my wife is
great at it, I can cook many a lovely dishes, and keep house tidy,
lol.
What
I’m trying to say is this the reasons for the NHS to take so long in
accomplishing my needs is to make sure that this is really what I
wanted, the procedures are not reversible you’ll never be given back
exactly what they have taken away, if you realize at the end of the
day you find yourself thinking you have made a mistake and you
always end up worse of than what you started with. These first two
years are crucial to your development both mentally and physically,
then once you have satisfied the panel of experts and gone through
all there hoops then you’ll be considered for hormones.
Then
you are faced with loads of other battles, watching for changes like
a hawk, wanting it desperately to change over night, wanting all the
promises that you’ve read, seen and been told about, and it doesn’t
happen, you get depressed, sad, angry, wanting to know, demand why
it hasn’t happen. Believe me the changes do happen, it just takes
time, we are all different and our changes hormonal wise is a shock
to our systems and needs time to a just, and your emotions do run
high. Taking hormones is dangerous if not supervised and controlled;
you need to have your blood pressure taken regularly depending how
often you take your hormones and you need to have blood tests to
check your liver. It is my belief that to try and rush a producer
like this is foolish and is only asking for trouble at the end of
the day.
There
have been some who have come rushed through this procedure and have
regretted it because they weren’t truthful with themselves, this has
lead to many rippling affects to our cause and has held back so
many, so please all of you, who are thinking or receiving treatment
please be aware that your not just representing yourselves, but your
also speaking for others to.
Life
can be cruel at the best of time, please try not to make things
worse by going at it like a bull in a China shop, for me being on
the NHS, was the only way for me, and I must say they did me proud,
you have to trust you Dr, surgeon and the team, and you cannot get
that trust built over a short period of time, and they can only work
on what you have told them, they are not mind readers, so if they
have got it wrong some where then it’s down to you to put it right,
they are not the enemy, they are there to help you, so be honest and
talk to them, take your time.
I
have become a much stronger and peaceful person and although my
journey has been a long one I have developed into a much more filled
person. My operations have been a total success because I listened
and trusted my doctor and the people who carried out my ops.
My phalloplasty.
I’ve
seen many different surgeons and discussed all the different options
that I could take. I knew exactly what I wanted. I wanted to be
able to stand when visiting the toilet, which was much more
important to me at that time, than having any sexual experiences, as
I had been told on many occasions that this would be impossible.
After discussing with the surgeon I found out to my surprise that
they could put stiffens into the phallus so that it would at least
have some sort of stiffness, but only if there was enough room, to
accommodate it (this has still to remain to be seen but fingers
crossed hay). I chose to have the pubic Flap; this procedure
involves making an incision across the bikini line and lowering the
pouch of loose skin that I had plenty off, (due to having two
children). And making the first part of my phallus, all was agreed
the only thing that was stopping me from going forward was the
funding.
Stage one (first op), August 2004
By
now everyone who had been dealing with Emma concerning my funding,
got to know us very well. Emma was out visiting a friend when she
received a phone call. The funding had been found and would I be
able to go into hospital at the beginning of the following week.
“We thought we’d tell you first as we don’t want Mitch to explode
with excitement.” Well I was jumping up and down all week.
Eventually the big day arrived, I wanted to keep as calm as poss.,
so that my blood pressure wouldn’t rise. I asked Emma to let me go
by myself and to follow on later.
Arriving at the hospital I was shown to my room, I was very
impressed by the manners of the nurses, they knew what I’d come in
for and made me feel at ease. Then Dr C came in to see me and went
through the procedure again, just to make sure I knew what was about
to happen. I was going to have a hysterectomy, Oopherectomy, and
then construct my phallus.
I had
a shower, and a shave, realizing that it would be impossible after
the op. The anesthetist came to see me and asked a few questions,
the one that came as a surprise to me was Do you get sick after
surgery, “Oh yes I do came my reply”, “well we can sort that out for
you” he said. Great that was music to my ear; I couldn’t bear to
think of being sick with all those stitches I was about to have, and
the probable pain I was sure I would be in after.
I was
eventually escorted to the operating theatre, where I was asked a
few questions just to make sure I knew what was going to happen to
me, and once that was done I lay on the trolley so that they could
administer the aesthetic, soon I was in the land of nod. Four
hours later I was back in my room, but along way off from beginning
my normal self, but this time I wasn’t sick and it made what I think
a tremendous difference to my quick recovery. I had a pain relief
pump that I could use when ever the pain got too much, this also
helped, because three days after the op I was on my way home with a
massive swollen appendage, containing a stent. (On the third day,
it was time to leave, but first they had to remove the packing that
they had put inside the virginal area, believe me when I tell you to
hold on to something, IT HURTS, take many deep breaths and try to
stay calm, imagine half a dozen dry tampons stuck up there, sorry to
be graphic, but I thought you would need to know.
The District Nurses
The
stent caused much confusion with the district Nurses and me having
to tell them to go away, even when they had instructions, they
didn’t understand what to do. At one point they wanted to remove
the stent before it’s time, I told them to leave me alone, and that
Emma was well capable of looking after me. Problem with district
nurses they do not come across many like us, so it is best to try
and find out what your district Nurse Knows so that you can plan
ahead, it may work, you can only try. My Emma is a dab hand at this
looking after malarkey, so may be I’d have to put her out on loan?
She’s good looking too.
Once
the healing had taken place, and the swelling had gone down, my word
I was still a big boy. I had to wait another three months for the
next stage.
Stage two, November 2004
This
one was to make a canal inside the phallus (a neo-urethra) and a bit
of jiggery pokery around the clitoral area so that they could later
join the urethra to the neo-urethra with its exit half way up the
phallus. This was a great success and I was on a roll. Once again
coming round after surgery went well, I wasn’t sick, but I found it
painful going to the toilet, especially when empting my bowls.
Corrective surgery, February 2005
Two
week before my next op I went to have a check up only to find that
the canal that they had made had closed up some where along the tube
and that I had a tiny hole, this was disappointing but as the Dr.
said it was best all round to get it fixed so that complications
wouldn’t arise later on. So back I went to get it fixed. This time
I was given long plastic flexible rods to push down the canal twice
a week. This bit does not hurt, but watch out for the end of the rod
when it pops out, it can bring water to your eyes, as it touches the
clitoris area. This is so sensitive it’s unbelievable.
Stage three, May 2005
I was
keeping my fingers crossed as I had been told that they had been
trying to get you to pee right out of the end of the phallus, but
when I arrived at the hospital, I was told that previous attempts
had been unsuccessful and that they had decided that they would not
be attempting that procedure on me. A little dishearten by the lack
of information, as to why, I plucked up the courage to ask one of
the well trained nurses, as I didn’t want to show ungratefulness,
she was very helpful and explained that the healing process was
difficult, to the extent of that the phallus had split, (exploded
was the exact wording) and infection had taken place, I am very
lucky not to have pushed the situation, you have to believe in your
surgeon, they know what they are doing, its still all very
experimental. I was told that even though I will be peeing from the
middle of my phallus, once they had completed the fourth stage,
adding the stiffeners and groin I wouldn’t see much difference. And
with practice by the way of holding my penis no one would be any the
wiser. That pleased me no end.
The
op took roughly three hours; they removed some of the skin from my
vaginal cavity and some from the labia and attached it to the
neo-urethra, so that the urine would pass through the canal that
they had made in the phallus. At present I have a stent going
through the phallus to keep it open and a catheter tube leading from
my blabber through my stomach just bellow my belly button. The
stint has to stay in for two weeks and the catheter for three
weeks.
July
2005 arrived for the fifth stage of my operation but a week before I
had a check up, the surgeon Mr. R. was not happy with the way the
base of the phallus was sitting. In his opinion the phalloplasty
should be dropped down a little, if I didn’t have this done, it
could cause me problems later on. And once they had fitted all the
other bits, they wouldn’t be able to fix it afterwards. Feeling A
little down hearted at the thought of not being able to carry out
certain plans at Christmas, I swallowed hard and let the surgeon do
what he felt was right.
A
week later I was in hospital to have my phallus lowered. They also
removed scar tissue from around the hole they had made down the side
of the phallus, where my urine was let out. They also inserted a
prosthetic ball into my left teste which would later be removed and
put into my right testi. The operation went very well and I had no
problems. It was an over night stay and I was walking about with
very little pain.
October 2005
This
op was to insert a pump reservoir into my left side just above my
hip, where saline fluid would be kept when the phallus is resting
you cannot feel it at all. They did not completely close vaginal
opening there is a tiny hole smaller than your finger little finger
nail. I was told that they couldn’t completely close it up as this
would cause infection, and by the time the pubic hair grew back you
couldn’t see it.
A
month before my finial op I kept my fingers crossed as I went to
have a check up I felt alright and it looked rather splendid, I was
cuffed to bits with the work they had done so far.
Mr.
R. was pleased to and with a smile he told me that they where going
to have to put in two cylinders instead of one as my phallus was
rather big and heavy. I was grinning like a Cheshire cat all the
way home
January 2006
I
arrived at the hospital at seven in the morning and was greeted by
the secretary who took me to my room, and by eight thirty I had my
blood pressure and temperature taken and then I was left waiting I
was to be second on the list.
The
next thing I knew one of the nurses came to my room and asked me if
I was ready, “you bet” I said.
We
walked towards the operating rooms and were left in the hands of the
anesthetist. The last thing I looked at just as I went under was
the clock on the wall that read out nine thirty. The op itself went
very well, but when I eventually came to my senses it was about
quarter past eight in the evening, the television was on and I
remembered seeing Dennis Rickman being driven past the Queen Vic out
of Eastenders. Apparently I had the nursing staff worried as I kept
coming to, but the going straight back under. They had to give me
two injections to help me come to. But oh dear, I didn’t feel to
good this time, I felt very sick and I was, the poor nurse I felt
very sorry for her as she had just cleaned me up only moments
before. The young nurse was fine about and got me sorted out.
It
wasn’t until the next day that I felt much better in my self and had
a small bowl of cornflakes and a cup of tea. I had been
catheterized so I didn’t need to go to the toilet, but the nurse
came in and asked me if I needed to have a wash, they much rather
you get up and start to move around as it’s gets you motivated.
This
was painful as my phallus had been left in the erected position and
they had fixed two metal bars to my pelvis. So walking was just
shuffling to start with. But once I had found my feet again I was
talking myself for many small walks around the ward.
Later
that evening they took out the two drains from each side of my waist
and was told that tomorrow they would remove the catheter. By the
time evening came I was feeling very tired and had a peaceful nights
sleep.
The
following morning was busy; Mr. R came to see me and checked me over
and was very pleased with what he could see, and told me that I
could go home today. The nurse came to take out my catheter, and
then there was no stopping me, I was out of bed and into the
bathroom having a wash and shave, then getting dressed, and by ten
past eleven I was ready to go home, bags packed, bed stripped and I
was waiting for my Emma to come and collect me. I was told to phone
his secretary when I returned home to make an appointment to see
Mandy the Nurse to be shown how to use it (that bit always puts a
smile on my face).
Ten
days later I went to see Mandy who showed me what I had to do. Oh
golly gosh it was painful and she could only let it down. Mandy made
me another appointment for the following week and with a bit of luck
she would be able to give me further instructions, if the swelling
had gone down and the pain had died down some what.
The
following week’s things seemed much better down below and I was
going to be shown how to pump it up and down.
At
first it was tender to touch the left testi and difficult to find
the small pump that I had to squeeze to erect the phallus, after a
few moments I had found the pump and it brought tears to my eyes,
eventually I had it up and was as stiff as a board. The next step
was to find the valve that I had to press hard at both ends to let
it down this was very painful and difficult after a few minuets and
another explanation I had my phallus down. I have to pump it up and
let it down every night and I have one more finial check up in April
2006. Until then I cannot use it in a sexual manner. Even then I
have to take care on Emma behalf as it’s massive and we are both a
bit apprehensive on that score.
But
all in all I am very happy and contented with what the surgeons have
done for me and all the care that the nurses gave me whilst I was
with them.
I’m
hoping soon to be celebrating our sixth Wedding Anniversary in
style.
I
hope that this has helped some of you, there is light at the end of
the tunnel never lose sight of that.
Take
care
Hope
you all have a good day and peaceful nights.
Mitch
citation: Photos and Text Courtesy of
M.J. Hadley (2006)
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