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Dialation Is So Much Better…

So I had two odd expereiences with dialation today.  The first occurred around noon.  Auntie and I had a small argument, so dialation was quite difficult.  I was almost crying at the end.

And then, by supper, we were doing much better.  We had Domino’s and then dialated together.  This later dialation was so much better!  It was a complete turn about from my first dialation at home!

So, if you are having trouble dialating, do it with a friend!

And So The Healing Begins

Auntie and I are back safe at home now.  I think she is as happy to be back home as I am, if not more so.

The past 24 hours have been a bit rough.  Dialation in my own bed, though I thought it would be much easier, turned out to be hard initially.  That bad bas been the location of such tension, at least between my legs, that I found relaxing there initially quite difficult.

Auntie commented that I don’t pull away from her anymore.  It’s true.  Her hands are now free to roam, but I no longer recoil.  Even the past few days have been wonderful in that respect.

The drive home went quite well.  We stopped once at a service station to wee.  I wished that the boy who had used it before had been a bit more on target and that the entire place had been a bit cleaner, but I don’t think I picked up anything from it.

Auntie has been a complete trooper.  She ran around to stores and such yesterday and is now off running errands again today.  What’s more, she’s been the happiest I’ve seen her in a long time.

We are coming back to ourselves and it’s wonderful.

Sing to the Glory of Toast

Ah, toast! I wouldn’t normally start off a post-op blog post on the glories of burnt bread, but it seems a particularly good place to start, as I have just had something approaching a real breakfast for the first time in last Monday. Since then, it has been clear fluids, jelly, a vile chicken broth, and etc. Oh to chew my food again! It was such a delight! Oh and I’ll get salmon for lunch!! Can you believe it!?!?!

In other matters, I seemed to make it through surgery itself well enough. I had a wee bit of bleeding the first two nights, but it’s been clear sailing since then.

I count myself lucky to be in an electric bed. It will shift up and down like most hospital beds in the US. I started off on a manual one that looked like it had been used in the Victorian age.

Visitors have been quite nice as well. Yesterday saw Ra come down on her motorbike. Ya! And the day before I met another patient of Mr Thomas’ who had her op 3 days prior. Yesterday, all the activity left me a little tired, but I am getting my strength back more and more each day.

Football. Yes, the world cup. Normally sports wouldn’t even cross my mind, but Auntie’s b&b is above a pub. As yesterday was the start of the world cup, she is quite tired, having been kept up by rowdy fans and bad kareoke until 2 am. As much asI love having her with me, I hope today is more kind to her.

This sugery has poked at old wounds as well as making new ones. Auntie and I have talked about when she was going through her surgery and how hard that was on us both. I am hoping that this time around, we will have an easier time.

We have also talked about plans for the future - things we would like to do or get, places we would like to go. We both know that post-SRS depression is likely after having to wait for such a long time to accomplish this goal, but we’ll just have to tackle that when we get there.

The nursing staff here have been quite good. Well, key staff on each shift have been excellent. Other staff have been okay, but generally I would rate the care that I have received quite highly and definately better than what Auntie received at Charing Cross.

One last bit of news then: I have already had an “Oh, wow” moment, having taken a gander downstairs when my T-bandage was being changed. I remember thinking, “It so smooth!” Odd, considering I did the shaving before surgery, but things looked a bit different then.

Oh I have also come up with a theory on the post-SRS glow that some women get. I think it’s due at least in part to the hair. The normal daily shampoo and conditioning cycle that most folk tends to strip out the oils that would normally be in out hair. If you have major surgery like this and can’t shower for days at a time, you hair gets coated with these oils. After you get cleaned up again, you hair retains its “natural shine” because you’ve only cleaned it once. The same goes for the skin around the face. Hence, the radient glow of a happy, smiling, post-SRS patient.

Anyway, I’d best sign off. Auntie has taken to sleeping on the floor and I haven’t even had my sponge bath yet. Take care all!

Out but not yet about…

Hey folks, it’s your favourite quiet Auntie. Okay, so I had to hack into W3bgrl using w3bgrl’s login to remember what the heck my password was but that’s not important…

Like me, you’re probably really happy to know that W3bgrl got through her surgery without a hitch. All went according to plan and, unlike yours truly two years earlier, she didn’t bleed heavily, didn’t have complications in the operating room, and didn’t need lots of pain meds.

I wish I could say here how happy I am to be sitting here in her comfortable hospital room typing this while w3bgrl takes it easy and starts that new part of her life.

The last three years (yup, we’ve been together now for a whole three years) have been tough on us both - especially when w3bgrl had to put off her own surgery just to live in the same country as me.

Finally her long wait is over. Now is the time for relaxation, recovery, and remembering what life is really about.

Take care folks,

W3bgrl sends her love
A.S.

We’re Off

We’re off to the hospital!  Wish us luck!

Well, You Should Say Something

I’ve been sitting here for a few minutes, wondering.  What exactly does someone say when they are about to go into hospital to get their genetalia turned into a stuffed turkey?  Best to start at home, I think.

Since starting my transition, I’ve moved my home from Chicago to Schaumburg to Fairfax to near Lincoln to Eversley to our current home near Bristol.  Couple that with how much I have spent on surgeries, medications, and the like and it’s no wonder that these have been a difficult set of years.  To be honest, I’m actually fairly surprised that I didn’t have more side effects from stress, especially when weren’t certain where we were going to get the money for my surgery.  Moving 5 times in as many years would be enough to keep someone a bit on edge and such, let alone with one of them being international.

And then there was Auntie’s surgery.  I’m in a strange country a couple of weeks and we go to one of the largest cities in the world to a completely crap hospital where the only person I really know for thousands of miles was being shuffled around, bleeding, and generally being poorly looked after by the nursing staff.  Additionally, she had further complications caused by overhealing which weren’t addressed quickly enough.  Even though I’ll be going private, issues with her surgery still frighten me.

Both Auntie and I have had to give up quite a lot to get where we are.  Houses, cars, travel, and all the trappings that might come with a fairly decent income level have been scaled back or reduced completely.  I haven’t seen my family in well over a year and half now and Auntie goes to visit hers sparingly only because they are just a few hours drive away.  But our car is okay and the house does what we need it to.  It’s visiting my family that I miss the most.

My mom and dad, especially, put up with so much from me.  When I was living near them and often over for tea and such, they very patiently put up with me obsessing about transition and its associated plans.  But I’m saving the “thank you” post until after surgery.

We have been eating well recently, shopping at the organic store and using lots of veggies and fruit.  My exercise plan didn’t push off the pounds as quickly or as far as I might have liked, but I am in much better shape than I was when I first saw Mr Thomas.  I have all my meds, including a vat of KY for when we get back.  So, all that’s left to do is pack and “get me to the church on time”.

One last hurdle.  Just one more.