The end of another year.

• Posted by Deleted Member July 1, 2013 #  #Thoughts  #  #  #transgender clinic  675 views
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  Life, like so much in the universe is incredibly complex, there are those out there who would have everyone believe that life consists only of contrasting opposites such as “good and evil, ying and yang” and of course “male and female.”

   

  However this is an extremely over simplified view of reality, which does not take into account the diversity that exists in nature. They see life as being black and white and choose to ignore the thousands, not just bloody fifty, of shades of grey which lie between.

   

  In human society this can be best illustrated in the attitudes of people towards those who do not fit an individual’s idea of what constitutes “normal”.

   

  The 20^th Century witnessed this attitude towards people who were “different” to the extreme, with the most infamous being the “Holocaust” where anyone who did not fit the “ideal image” of the perfect Aryan was expendable, the ethnic cleansing in the Balkans, Rwanda and even the “Apartheid” which existed in the Southern States of the USA and South Africa.

   

  However even now, in this so called modern “Enlightened” Britain of the 21^st century, discrimination is still a social problem that people who do not fit into the ideal of another person’s definition of “Normal,” still have to suffer.

   

  Take for example the continuing stance against Women or even Gay Clergy by the Various Churches. The fact that the Scottish Government felt it necessary to expand the scope of existing hate crime legislation, to cover those who are classed as Disabled, Gay and Transgender people, and it soon becomes evident that modern society is not as tolerant as we would like to think it is.

   

  For those who can hide the fact that they are gay or disabled and appear “normal” to the outside world, life is that bit easier.

   

  However, imagine having to go through life feeling like you are trapped in the wrong body, knowing that the life you are living as a Male is nothing more than living a lie, that you have been born into the wrong “gender” and who are classed as “Transgender”

   

  The term “Transgender” is an all encompassing term, which can cover everything from those cross dressers who wish to simply dress is the clothing of the opposite gender, for fetish or sexual pleasure, Transvestites for whom dressing allows them to feel more comfortable and I do know a few girls who live full time as women but have no desire to take things any further, and Transsexuals, many of whom will go to great extremes to live in their “correct” gender whether that be transitioning from Male to Female or vice versa.

   

  Most Transsexuals, myself included, have felt from a very young age that they were “different” from the other members of their peer group although at the age of 7 years old they would have no understanding of the Medical and Psychological condition we now know as “Gender Dysphoria”

   

  In my case, in my early years up until about Primary 5, my closest friends were predominantly girls.

   

  I felt more comfortable in the company of girls, I never felt like I had to prove myself as “one of the boys,” to fit in to my peer group, so to speak.

   

  I saw how the girls were dressed, but I never ever felt like I wanted to dress like them, I just knew I wanted to be a girl, that dressing in girls clothes just wasn’t going to be enough.

   

  When I was eight years old, my parents and I were invited to a family wedding in Stirling. My parents and other aunts and uncles would be staying at the home of the bride’s parents who were also my aunt and uncle, and I was to sleep in the room of the bride’s younger sister who as a flower girl would be spending the night in a hotel with the bride and other bridesmaids and flower girls.

   

  After our evening meal…my father and uncles were going to go for a drink in the village pub and my mum suggested they all go, so after a brief discussion they did and I was left on my own to watch TV. Both my parents were working so I was well used to, even at that age to “doing my own thing.”

   

  After a while I decided to go get changed into my pyjamas and so headed upstairs to the bedroom. I was in the process of getting undressed when I noticed my cousin had left her School Uniform hanging over the back of a chair.

   

  To this day, I don’t know why, but I just felt the urge to get dressed in my cousin’s uniform consisting of a brown blazer and skirt, white blouse, tie, white socks and black Mary Jane shoes.

   

  Once I had done so I looked in the wardrobe mirror and instead of the little blonde haired boy I saw looking back at me every other morning, I saw for myself the little girl I felt I should have been and as I looked at my reflection I said “Hello Sylvia”, even then…I knew what my name should have been.

   

  Not having any sisters I didn’t really get any chance to dress again till I was in my early teens when I became very close with a girl who lived round the corner from me.

   

  We would spend hours together every day and she would practice putting on and taking off her make up, not just on herself, but on me also.

   

  This was at the time of Glam Rock and she asked one day if she could make me up to look like Marc Bolan, but I told her I had a far better idea.

   

  The school Halloween party was two weeks away and I made a suggestion for our outfits. On the day of the party we had been excused the morning classes so we could get our hair done for the party in the afternoon.

   

  My friend is a twin and so as twins the girls had many of the same clothes, so with my hair dyed Orange/Yellow and blown back, silver dress pulled up and tied with a belt at the waist, tan tights and silver boots and face made up appropriately, we made our way to the school disco with me dressed as Ziggy Stardust with my close friend dressed identically as my groupie…that was my first outing in female clothing and it felt wonderful.

   

  After that we became very close and even lived together for a while in our late teens when we were both at college and of course we would go out clubbing together, with me as Sylvia of course, and that was just such a wonderful time for me, although at this time I had absolutely no plans to transition.

   

  After finishing at the college I was attending, I was offered a place on a Higher Education Course at a college in Edinburgh, I had lined up a part time job and a flat and was all set to start the course when it was cancelled for some reason.

   

  At that short notice I would have lost my deposit on my flat, however I spoke to the manager of the bar I was going to be working in and he agreed to take me on full time and since it was a bar with a predominantly “gay” clientele I started working for him as “Sylvia” and lived full time in Edinburgh for the next year.

   

  During this time I applied to various colleges and was offered a place on an HND course in Glasgow, which of course meant moving back in with my parents so once again “Sylvia” ended up back in the closet.

   

  During my time at college in Glasgow I met my future wife and after graduating we married, and in Sept 1990 I thought my life complete when my daughter came into the world.

   

  However, after 12 years my marriage came to an end and after about 12 months of living with my parents I eventually got a place of my own.

   

  Once I had my own place, I bought a PC and started going online and into chat rooms where I met a girl and we started a relationship which lasted about 6 months.

   

  When we met online I didn’t realise she was a Post Operative Transsexual but even when I did, it made no difference to me, since I was already attracted to her.

   

  During this time, she tried to encourage me to resurrect Sylvia but after a gap of about 16 years I wasn’t sure if I could do it.

   

  Eventually my girlfriend and I split up and I decided to take the step of trying to resurrect Sylvia, to see if I could do it, and on March 1^st 2003, I made my debut at the Violate Fetish Club, and during that night it became clear, that now this particular genie was out the bottle there was no way that she was ever going to go back in…Sylvia was going to be the biggest part of me for the rest of my life.

   

  After that night at Violate and the response from people, I decided to contact my GP and she referred me to Dr Susan Carr at the Sandyford Initiative for assessment in May 2003, but it was August 2004 before I started to live my “Life Test” where I have to live full time as Sylvia for a minimum period of 12 months.

   

  Having lived full time before, people might imagine that it should be easy second time around, but it isn’t. Time takes its toll, people get older and intolerance by others is still a problem that has to be overcome, but I knew that if I didn’t do this, I would never be in a position to move on.

   

  That was very possibly the longest year of my life. It turned out to be a lot easier than I had anticipated and during that time I started to feel more and more comfortable as Sylvia. Unlike some who I knew were experiencing a lot of hostility from members of the public, mainly young teenage males who were “reading” them, I was not getting treating similarly. Truth is, as I progressed, I noticed that most people barely gave me a second glance.

   

  That doesn’t mean it has been totally straight forward. Like most girls I have been outed in the street, I’ve been subjected to verbal abuse and physical abuse which included being raped twice. I only reported the first occasion though since they told me that it wasn’t possible to “rape on a man”….why bother to report the second.

  However, despite all that, I successfully got through the life test and now it was time to see about taking things further.

   

  One of the benefits of attending the Sandyford Initiative as opposed to the Gender Clinics in England and Wales is from what I hear from other girls transitioning in the other parts of the UK, it can take up to six months to get an appointment at the clinic. The Sandyford Initiative in Glasgow where my clinic was can take six months to get that first appointment,

   

  However once you are in their care there is a monthly drop in clinic on the first Tuesday of every month where no appointment is required if you arrive between 9am – 11am, so you are never more than four weeks from a specialist should you be experiencing any issues you feel you need help with.

   

  So, in September 2005 I attended the Drop-in Clinic and effectively told them that now I had completed my life test, I felt that the only logical step forward from here would be to refer me to my Surgeon to undergo Gender Reassignment Surgery and to my delight they agreed to do so

   

  I attended my referral appointment with my Surgeon Mr Phil Thomas at the East Sussex Nuffield Hospital in Brighton on 10^th November 2005 and he agreed to accept me for Gender Reassignment Surgery.

   

  For the next few months I never heard much except news that the Health Authority had agreed to my funding and it was in place, then one morning an envelope postmarked Brighton arrived and the letter advised me that I was to undergo my surgery on 1^st August 2006.

   

  I always thought that when that envelope arrived I would be dancing around and jumping around excitedly, instead, I just sat there quietly with a feeling almost like a kind of numbness going through my mind.

   

  After going through everything I had, all those experiences as a child, teenager, after all the hassles, to realise that now there were people who took me seriously and now I was on the verge of becoming Sylvia, physically as well as psychologically, it almost felt like a bereavement.

   

  He wasn’t a bad person, he was always very kind hearted and was always willing to help people, if he could, and I know that there will always be a part of him in me, as opposed to the other way around, but it is very much like a bereavement, for me to become Sylvia, so I suppose I was mourning to an extent, because for me to be able to live,…he had to die.

   

  On the morning of 31^st July 2006 I flew from Glasgow Airport to Gatwick and boarded the train to Brighton from the Airport Station where I arrived around 0930am. After a small breakfast I took a taxi up to the hospital where after taking care of paperwork I took that long walk to my ward room.

   

  There was one of the reception staff walking beside me but I couldn’t hear what she was saying, couldn’t even hear my own foot steps, at that time it felt like I was completely on my own.

   

  Mr Thomas’s Ward Sister had her day off that day but she popped in to see me in the afternoon to make sure I was being well looked after and ensure that I was feeling OK. We sat on the bed chatting and I discussed my worries with her. What if something goes wrong? What if I’m making a huge mistake? After all, if I get it wrong the consequences are permanent.

   

  I sat there crying on the bed with Liz hugging me and trying to assure me then one of the other nursing staff came in with mail for me.

   

  Liz helped me open it and there was a card from a friend which read “Congratulations…It’s a girl”…that made me smile and put me at my ease…Liz hugged me and said she would see me in the morning.

   

  The rest of the day was spent mostly in bed, and on the toilet, since I had been given a couple of sachets of Picalax laxative, which is like industrial strength “Mr Muscle”, to empty my bowel which is necessary due to the close proximity of where they would be operating.

   

  I had an early night that night, and I woke around 6am. Not because I couldn’t sleep but the sun was shining in through my window.

   

  I put the radio on and filled my bath and at 0700am a young student nurse they had assigned to me the day before came in to prepare me for surgery. She got me gowned up, and into the anti embolism stockings and at 0755 Mr Thomas entered to asked me if I was absolutely sure I wanted to go through with the surgery, and after assuring him that I did indeed want to go through with the surgery, I was wheeled into pre med for my anaesthetic.

   

  My next recollection is Mr Thomas’s Ward Sister gently shaking me and saying “Sylvia darling…wake up Sylvia…it’s all over” and apparently I smiled before lapsing back into anaesthetic induced sleep.

   

  The rest of the day consisted of my lapsing in and out of consciousness due to the anaesthetic with what felt like a cannonball in my pelvis. I had to lie on my back all day and the bed couldn’t be adjusted so it was very, very uncomfortable.

   

  When Wednesday morning came, and the bed could be adjusted I was able to find a position where I felt relatively comfortable and for the next few days there was really no change and I was confined to bed till the pack came out.

   

  Sunday afternoon arrived, and Liz and one of the other nursing staff came to remove my “pack” which consisted of several yards of disinfectant coated gauze bandages shoved up inside my neo vagina to keep things in place and to help the stitches take the strain. As I watched I couldn’t believe how much bandage had been put up there and was wondering if instead of a vagina I had something resembling the Clyde Tunnel, but before long the gauze was removed, and then came the next step.

   

  Once the pack had been removed, Liz approached me with a large dilator covered in lubricant and showed me how to put it inside for my first dilation.

   

  It is at this point that it suddenly hit me…what had been done as I see the dilator slide into my new vagina. Liz sat on the chair next to me going through my after care regime, of how often I would need to dilate, potential problems such as infections etc.

   

  As she was reading this she looked round at me and noticed I had started to cry, so she put down the sheet and just put her arms around me till I stopped…well they do say the first thing a baby does when it is born is cry….and for me…this was being reborn.

   

  Two days later my catheter was removed and I was told that Liz wanted to see me up and about and walking so they could see for themselves. So after bathing and dilating I got dressed and went for a walk around the hospital grounds, looked out over the English Channel then headed back to my room to be told by Liz that I was walking so well it was hard to believe I had the surgery, I wasn’t walking like John Wayne.

   

  I was discharged the following morning, took the train from Brighton to Gatwick and Flew from Gatwick to Glasgow arriving in the early evening. A friend met me at the airport and commented on my walk as Liz had done and it was after this that the hard work began.

   

  My new vagina was like any other wound. If left to its own devices it would heal up so it was necessary to keep it open while everything else around healed and this is done by dilation.

   

  For the first twelve weeks I would have to dilate three times a day, for the next twelve weeks, twice a day and for the next six months, at least once a day for a period of about 20 minutes to keep my vagina open and after that once or twice a week…mostly to widen the vagina.

   

  Many people seem to think that undergoing Gender Reassignment Surgery is incredibly painful and for some it can be. However, I can honestly say that I never had any really bad pain. Yes I had painful little twinges as the stitches burst and the new tissue had to take the strain unaided. Yes I had nasty wee stabbing pains as nerve endings healed up and bound together but over all the general sensation of being “Uncomfortably Numb.”

   

  It takes about twelve months post surgery to get full feeling back and there are those who never get full sensitivity, but thankfully I am not one of them. Mr Thomas has done a remarkable job on me although sometimes the level of sensitivity can be a cause for concern, it’s a little awkward when the crotch seam of my jeans rubs against my little love button and causes me to have a “crisis” in the queue for the make up counter at Boots in Oxford Street but hey….am not complaining.

   

  At the moment, I still consider myself to be very much “work in progress”, I still require laser treatment to remove facial hair, I would like to have slightly larger breasts and I would like a few more “cosmetic” changes but they can be done in time.

   

  So here I am now approaching my seventh rebirthday on 1st of August 2013, and things have certainly taken a turn for the better in the last 12 months. The biggest change being, that my daughter who I have heard nothing from for the last three years, has got back in touch with me. We are taking things slowly and gradually and I can only hope that over time we can start to rebuild our relationship because I know I have missed out on so much of her life over the last few years, and all because I chose to transition rather than continuing to live a lie.

   

  As for my future, at present I am what I like to refer to as happily single and for now I have no real plans to change that. I can do what I want and go where I want and not have to explain to anyone where I’m going, who I’ll be with, what time I am likely to be back…you get the picture. I can answer only to myself.

   

  Now I’m not for one minute saying that I want to be single for the rest of my days but for now it suits me but like anyone else, I would like to meet someone who will accept me for who I am, someone I can share my life with and just make the most of the rest of my life…..and as in all good fairy tails….“live happily ever after”….as Sylvia.

  
  

  
  

  Remember, "happiness is not something ready made, it comes from your own actions"......a quote by HH The Dalai Llama.
  

  
  

  
  Happiness is not something ready made. It comes from your own actions.