Crossing the Rubicon - Hauling Ass Down the Transsexual Highway
The following is a mess at the moment as I try to find a functional format for this rendition of events and thoughts. A linear timeline seems to be of the first order.
The Stories
- pre op
- post op
- excessive bleeding
- intra muscular vs oral
- Constapation
- Outburst
- Sarah and Paula
- Darlene
- Diva
Fri, Sept21, 2012, 10:10 PM Eastern time
Thurs, Sept20, 2012, 10:10 PM Eastern time - Crossing the Rubicon
Wed, Sept19, 2012, 10:10 PM Eastern time - Crossing the Rubicon
Tues, Sept18, 2012, 10:10 PM Eastern time - Crossing the Rubicon
- had Dilaudid this morning, intramuscular, yuck, but still the drug of choice for this pain.
- Blood issues to be resolved in Surgery
- Talk with Belanger re best case scenario
- Dr Belanger's rational
- Legs in the stirrups
- Down time
- Belanger's rational
- First Walk
Locations - bed 2b, SE corner ward, Le Centre Metropolitan de Chirurgie, reception area, elevator,
O.R. prep room, O.R.
Am - PM
Scenes and themes
Activity - the business of SRS
Action/subtext -
- Pre-op build up from 5:45am - 7:15
- Prep room - meet 'n greet Brussard, Belanger and anesthesiologist
- O.R.
- Post Op
- Bleeding - "the doctor will come if"
- The
- 4am - the pain part
- Ok, now its Post SRS Day 2. I have done this thing. It turned out I was first up on the operating table. More on that later. Basically, met the surgeons, Brassard and Belanger. Had a good chat. No surprises there. Got spinal tapped without even knowing it, and didn't wake up on the operating table, as far as i know, so next thing for me is waiting in the post op prep room to see if I have retained the use of my legs and such. Lots of stuff happening: pain meds, how to sit on the bed, how to move, checking out my bandages, bloody, and meeting nurses and the like. Took hours for the spinal to wear off, at which point we started with the pain meds, which turned out to be Dilaudid. Nice drug. Definitely doing the trick for me. I was confused about the pain. Partially because having a slew of bandages and ice packs tucked in around one's genitals is not the most pleasant situation no matter what. So the pain wasn't like high impact trauma, but more like ripping and tearing trauma, if anyone has experienced that. However, about that blood, it started to look like I might have some kind of complication, re the excess blood that was collecting in my compresses. And that brings up the literal pain part of this report. Turned out that Joanna the night nurse had to try to reinforce my compresses at 4am the next morning to staunch the bleeding. Even though she gave me a shot of Dilaudid, this was still one of the more excruciating experiences of my life. That's where the sharp, tearing or ripping kind of pain came in. It was not good, but what were we to do. She (Joanna) was quite upset about the pain she was having to put me through. To no avail really. The next day I was sent back to the O.R. where I was put out again and they repacked my bandages. Again I faced the bureaucracy's inflexibility regarding pain management. What we need is a drip/squeeze applicator. However, my compromise was to do the Dilaudid. I have another pain period coming up, and i have decided what I will do at that point. No one else has the ability to know as well as me what I need in this regard. And in this, I have but one agenda: pain management. They have several agendas, including money, laws and rules. When one is in pain, rules do not work. "It's better to ask forgiveness than to beg for permission," and it's and it's better to take one's own advice that to regret taking another's.
- Te guedou mon minou
- I am actually doing this thing. It just hit me in the hed. For real. Wow! And by that I mean that the enormity of the situation hit me in the hed, in the tummy, in the gonads. I got butterflies. On steroids. Wow again. I just did the enema that they require us to do before the operation. It is the first actual physical step I am taking on the road to no return, and I feel fine. I am doing this. Wow. I wonder if I will be able to keep this journal up. I am in depression land, no doubt about that, it's hitting me in waves, but I am ok, at least for short periods like meals etc. Once I am on morphine, I should be ok for a while, at least that way.
SUNDAY, 16, 2012 - I'm actually doing this
Locations: Day Airports, interior aircraft, int cab, Gites de Marigold, Le Village
Cast: Me, Robert, Jade, Maya, Kylie, Francine, Chantelle,
- I have come a long way baby. I am, or just was, sitting in my bed at the Gites de Marigold, looking in the mirror at my feminized self and my middle aged male pattern baldness, deciding whether or not I am going downstairs to lunch sans hat. I like my hair, the way it sits on my head, the way it would look if I had more, even if there isn't enough of it to go round my head, and I don't want to be stuck with always having to wear a hat or a wig. Don't get me wrong, i'm not bald, but definitely receding, and I do have a bald patch at the crown. But all in all, it don't look that bad, and it's real. So screw it, at least right now. Let's see what happens when I go downstairs. Probably will wear my hat. It's an ongoing battle.
- The point is that I don't need all these 'props' to be who or whatever I am. I identify feminine, and it is that that will carry the day, any day.
- This was confirmed when I did the cabbie on my way to the airport. I like the female part in sex. And in society. I wish to be treated like a woman, in all respects. And I want the woman's fight, the equal pay, and end to the glass ceiling, no bra if I chose, and no baby, if I deem it necessary. My will be done.
SATURDAY, Sept 15, 2002, - Flying to Montreal
Locations: Day Airports, interior aircraft, int cab, Gites de Marigold, Le Village
Cast: Me, Robert, Jade, Maya, Kylie, Francine, Chantelle, Loise,
- Cab ride, BJ, this in my hed, and how it relates to what I am doing
- Talk with what'ser re the pain specialist vs the purse laden lady/wall street economy class
- Waiting with Robert
- Cab Ride
- Gites de Marigold - Ist Epiphany
Tuesday, Sept 11, 2012 - Who's condition is this anyway? Crossing the rubicon
- I have come across Bailey's "The Man Who Would Be Queen" lately, this published in 2003, and I read, basically, about me, literally almost, graphically, TMI even. Swap a few personal details, none the less personal or revealing, it could be me on those pages. This is a description of someone who has walked several miles in my shoes.
- Finally, after years of trying to explain to anyone who would listen and help me figure this out - about how I was not gay but do have a "predeliction for dicktion" as long as it's silicone and not attached to a human being; about penetration envy, and how for me it's about 'being a woman in whatever way a woman can be;' and how my sexuality 'issue' seems to parallel pedophilia and the like and aren't I glad it's just about women's clothing and my sense of femininity and not about children; and all sorts of other characteristics behavioral and otherwise that Bailey, Blanchard et al cite as examples of autogynephelia - I find out that as much as I agree with this take on my condition and his take on homosexual transsexuals vs 'non homosexual' transsexuals, that his views and this 'theory' of two main subcatagories of transsexuals are considered bogus and anathema in the trans community at large, trannies and professionals alike.
What the fuck!?! The body is the cemetary of the emotions.
And all of this about a week before I fly to the Centre Métropolitain de Chirurgie to have my knickers nicked, my complex castrated, my outie innied, just as I come across the first anecdotal (and hence, to me, an honest resonance because who would make this up and put public claim to it if it weren't true)) parallel regarding the nature of myself and my gender/sexual proclivities, my peers, my doctor, my fucking community even tell me that I am persona non grata, at least idealogically, although you know how defensive trannies can be, ha ha.
I mean, I'm already skeptical re; the "i'm a woman in a man's body" narrative and basically think that proponents of that narrative are delusional, or least ways, stuck on an intermediate rung of their personal psychic identity quest. Think about it. If you lose your toe, are you still you? And that's a rhetorical dude. Of course you are. And if that is the case, where does it end? Just what do we need to maintain carnal integrity? A brain in a bottle of nutrients?
And that's where and when I come up with this 'psychological caste' idea. Like reincarnation, only psychologically. That in between the binary, or spectrum I guess, of the undeveloped zygote-to-actualized human psyches, there are psychological levels or rungs that we all attain to one degree to another, are perhaps even hard wired as such, and that anyone who, as a baseline, identifies as a toe, or a sex, or a gender, is not a fully actualized human being, but one somewhere in between those two poles, just as a person may be anywhere in between the two poles of masculine --- feminine, gay --- straight, man --- woman, amoeba --- human being etc.
Leading me to speculate: on the spectrum of psychological castes, some of the rungs may be: identification of self with one's body; with one's emotions; with cognition; with ... gender, religion, football, knitting etc etc etc. Hopefully you get the picture. In other words, one is not one's behavior, or one's environment, be it one's body, one's community, one's planet etc.
Bottom line though is this. I was on the way to the airport, to go to my surgery, and the cabbie gave me a deal, so I took the cab all the way rather than catch the skytrain downtown. On the way it became apparent that he was "interested." Interested in what you ask. ha! Like you don't know. Now, basically, Nanci Blu is a virgin. Not inexperienced mind you, having spent hours half in and half out of the closet, literally as well as figuratively with the 'silicone sissies,' but in this present psychological manifestation, a la real live penises, a virgin. No sex with another human being for the last 17 years or so. So here I am, in this cab, with the cabbie inuendoing his ass off, and I realize that it's up to me. Am I a woman, and do I want sex with a man? This was definitely an opportunity, knocking at my door, and a chance to do this in a sort of antiseptic way, if that's what I really want. And I did really want. So I told him to pull over, and reached over and took the bull by the horns so to speak, and blew the man. Right there. In the cab. It wasn't great, not the best of circumstances, but it was my decision, and it was real. And I learned a lot right there and then. I did want it, and it was great that it was real. But next time, I am going to be more in charge, however 'passively' I a may arrange that, because basically, I know what I want, and half a penis sticking out of folded blue jean crotch is not it. I want the whole schlemiel, balls 'n all, at my disposal, no foolin' around. I want that sucker deep in my throat, because that is what i like. This is what I want. And I feel liberated. And female. Not afraid of it anymore. It's mine, and I'm going to own it.
Monday, Sept 3, 2012
this may have to do with differentiation and my timeliness issues. I had an appointment with my trans doc on Monday, at 1pm. I arrived 15 minutes early, and it was not until 15 minutes past my appointment time that I got to see her. And all this time, there was no one in the waiting room. Nor did the intern that was working with her show his face until he called me in for the appointment. I got quite angry, and almost left the building without waiting for my appointment. I went in with the intern, and as soon as I learned that my blood tests and such were fine, I left, telling the intern that I was very angry. I did not want to see Dr. Cullham in that mood. I did not dump on the intern, but some of my anger did leak out, as he kept on talking to me. I did tell him that this was related to my strap for a minute late upbringing. I decided that from now on, I would not make any appointments at this clinic anymore. Rather, I would just show up for the drop ins. That way, I would not have any expectations. I am still resolved this way. However, the emotional charge is no longer holding me, and I now feel I can talk to Dr. Cullham about this without projecting my anger onto her. This, I believe, is an undifferentiated anger issue. Will see if I can talk to Ron about this.
June 4th, '11
Settling in to me i guess. This is where i start to go into the depression zone. Usually. So far, i seem to be ok. At least, there are characteristics that point to this. I have resolved this 'gender/sexuality/whatever' issue. For real. Nanci Blu is the indicator there, and that is that as far as i am concerned. My extreme 'nerves' have left me. I now perform with my feelings, and that is getting better. And i am still creating, on so many levels. Usually this starts to taper off. I am still going strong. Now not with that 'spring' energy thing, but steady, and surely it seems so far. I am researching what i am going to write a book about, 'consolidation,' and that is moving along. Not sure where it's going yet, but getting lots of stuff stacked up. And my voice ids getting stronger i believe. Very good stuff. I am also looking for a job, and am confident that will happen more or less at the appropriate time. I am not in a rush, so this is good.
May 20, '11
Insanity: We are brought up in a certain context, with certain beliefs etc. Somewhere along the line we need to distinguish between our understanding of everything else and these initial contexts? Before we do, are we not, by reason of certain dissonance, insane? The degree to which we are able or unable to differentiate between our initial contexts and the context of larger, common realities marks, I think, barring certain physical imperfections, our relative sanity. A person who is not able to differentiate between the 'real' world and their inculcated beliefs is, by definition, insane.
Plato's cave is about shadowland and how to tell if one is a shadowlander. "Are you a shadowlander? I don't know. Are you?"
