2013 - The Year Of My Social Life

     I've never really been much of a social butterfly. Don't get me wrong, I always get on with people I meet and I'm always keen for a night out. Catering stopped much of that though. The people I knew were the ones I worked with and they were the ones I socialised with. I always yearned for a social life away from family and work which is one of the reasons I enjoyed my nights out to canal street pre-transition. In 2013, with my decision to quit catering a reality, I gained a new network of friends and acquaintances.

     When I went for my GRS one thing I hoped to get out of it was friendship with those on my ward and to a certain degree I earned that. In the bed next to me was a lady called Deborah (Debs) and we still text, nine months on. During that first few days on the ward she was very ill but when she began to get better and we began to talk I began to really like her. She has such a dry sense of humour and has been through so much in her life. Some of the things she used to tell me, some of the stories, were truly amazing. While on the ward I also met two more ladies with whom I'm still in touch. Adele was on the left of me and she was also very ill. She was really outspoken and didn't strike me as someone to mess with. She's also very loyal with a good heart. Sally was in a bed on another ward and it was only within the last few days of my stay in hospital that I got to know her. A really nice person and a friend for life.

      Once I started going to college in September I thought I'd find it difficult to make friends but this has been far from the case. I've really become a part of each class I attend and I have a good circle of friends. I think that because we are all adult learners we all have the same targets. We all want to do well so we help each other. The people I've really hit it off with are Hannah, Chrysanthi and Gemma and we attend most of our classes together.

The Chesterfield LGBT out on
Wednesday Night. I'm the 2nd in from
the left (with the santa hat on)

     My life outside work and college has also received a bit of a boost in the whole social stakes. I met up with a fellow trans lady in Chesterfield called Lucy. She got me in touch with a Chesterfield group called Chesterfield LGBT and through them I've gained a whole new network of friends. Suzy, Lynnette, Cade, Liz, Joel, Kallum, Mandy, Maz and Wendy are just some of the people I think I'm now able to call friends. I'm me as far as they go. They all know about my trans history but it doesn't matter with them, I'm just Emma! As I found out on Wednesday night (I had my purse pinched while out in town) they have my back which is something I've missed for most of my life. My family all have my back, I know that, but I think we all need that bit of support in the wider world and now I feel I have that.

     So, 2013 has been a great year in the social side of my life and that's something I really want to build up in 2014. Thank you to all those who've been a part of my life in 2013 and to all those who helped to make it the year of my life!

.......to be continued

2013 - The Year Of My Career

     As I look back on my 2013 I can do so with some pride. Despite the huge, the monumental, changes that have occurred in my life over the past twelve months I'm pretty much where I want to be. One of the biggest changes has been in regards to my career. Twelve months ago I was Head Chef at a small restaurant/bistro in Tuxford. Tuxford is a small village near Retford. At the end of November 2012 the old Head Chef left so I was suddenly thrust into the hot seat just before the busy Christmas period began. It was truly a baptism of fire! Along with the Head Chef, the Bar Manager walked which left Rebecca (a bar maid at the time) to run the front of house. Together we worked from dawn until dusk and we were a success. Before that month we weren't really all that close. That month though ensured that we became pretty good friends. As the years progressed though we've both gone in new directions and it's one of my biggest regrets that we don't meet up as often as we should. Anyway, after that December things in Tuxford quickly turned sour and so in January I began to look for another job and that search led me to a small bistro in Devon!

     Throughout my career as a chef I got many of my jobs through people I'd met and Devon was no different. A few years ago I'd worked at a hotel in Bakewell and I used to frequent a local pub called The Red Lion. Over the course of three years I got to know the owners of The Red Lion quite well. In the interim they'd moved to a pub in Devon called The Cromwell Arms and so I got in touch with them. I told them everything regarding my upcoming GRS and they were fine with it all and at the end of January I moved down to Bovey Tracy. It was a beautiful area, perched just on the edge of Dartmoor. I worked there for three months and at the end of March, the day I started my sick live, just days before the biggest operation of my life, I was told that they couldn't afford to keep me on. At the time I was livid. I'd started to make a new life down there, made friends and I didn't get a chance to say goodbye to any of it. It also meant that I'd have to arrange my own sick pay which wasn't what I needed just days before my GRS! In hindsight though I'm glad they did what they did. Sometimes we all need a push to move onto better things and they gave me my push. Now if I saw them I'd probably thank them because if they hadn't done what they did I certainly wouldn't be where I am now. At the time though I just had uncertainty about where my life was headed. I was heading into the most important operation of my life, an operation that carried with it a three month recovery period, and I was jobless!

     After my GRS I started to recover and I began thinking about my career. The events in Tuxford and Devon had scarred me and had made me question my abilities as a Head Chef. I had lost a lot of love for the trade if I'm honest. I had been treated pretty shoddily by two places despite the huge amount of work I had put in to both. I worked so many hours and Tuxford actually made me ill. I had received no thanks though and had been stabbed in the back by both. They made me question whether I wanted to be a part of that life. They say 'Once bitten, twice shy!', well I had been bitten twice and I decided that there wouldn't be a third so I retired from the kitchen!

     Quiting being a Chef was a huge moment, not just in 2013 but in my life. I had started as a Chef at seventeen in 1999 and had given fourteen years of my life to it. I don't regret doing it because there are people in my life who wouldn't be had I not gone into catering. When I retired from it though I felt relief at first. I was glad that I'd finally taken the risk. I could do anything now, the world was my oyster.

     I soon decided to go into teaching, specifically Primary School teaching. I looked into it and enrolled myself at college. I needed my Maths, English and Science GCSE's. I started Chesterfield College in September and I'm enjoying it immensely. It's given me something to aim for. After GRS I lost something in my life, a spark. With College I've got that spark back! I've made some new friends and it's different to school. We're all adult learners so we all want to pass. We all help each other and all want each other to do well. The biggest thing with College though is that I'm just me, just Emma. I don't know whether anyone has guessed about my past and to be honest I don't really care. As long as I'm treated with respect, that's all I'm interested in. My transition is no longer at the forefront of my life. It's something that happened and now it's over. My career is the thing that's in transition now, that's the most important thing in my life at the moment (behind my family obviously).

     Looking back, 2013 will be defined by my operations and that's how it should be I guess. 2013 was also a huge year in terms of my career and it's a real shame that it'll be put in the shade because of my ops. Looking onwards to 2014 my next target is obviously to pass my exams in June. I need to knuckle down a bit before then so January to June is going to be very busy. After that I've already applied to do an Access to HE course in September. This is a one year course that's equivalent to three A Levels and it'll enable me to apply to University. If all goes to plan I should be applying to Uni this time next year. So, onwards and upwards it is!

.........to be continued!

2013, The Year of My Life: Part 1

     It's that time of year again. Shakin Stevens and Slade suddenly start getting air time on the radio, Sprouts (goblins testicles) start showing up on dinner plates and Meadowhall begins living up to its Meadow-Hell nickname! It's Christmas!!! Of course, in the world of my blog that also means that it's time for my yearly review blog series and what a year I've got to talk about. 2013 has quite literally been the biggest year of my life. So much has happened that I'm not sure I've got enough time to do it justice. I few of the highlights include.....

+ I became Head Chef!
+ I moved to Devon for 3 months!
+ I had Gender Reassignment Surgery!
+ I decided to change careers from Chef to Primary School Teacher!
+ I enrolled at college and began doing my English, Science and Maths GCSE's!
+ I had Breast Augmentation!
+ I became an A Student for the first time in my life in English!
+ My recovery from both surgeries has been successful!
+ I met new people and made some great new friends!

I'd be lying if I said that it had been all good stuff, it has also been a year in which tragedy occurred. It's been a year in which I've had to put everything into it, in which I've risked everything. There has been times in which I've had to dig so deep, in which I've had to put so much faith in my ability to survive. Some of the lowlights include.....

+ I lost my job in Devon 4 days before my Gender Reassignment Surgery!
+ I struggled so much with dilation at first!
+ I struggled to find a job after GRS!
+ My money worries have increased following my 5 months off sick (altogether)!
+ I struggled in the early days of recovery following both operations!
+ My career change has been tougher than I imagined, having to become a student again!
+ We lost our beloved grandmother (one of my greatest supporters)!

It has been a year in which emotion has played a constant role. There has been incredible highs, unbelievable moments of euphoria. These moments have been mixed with unbelievable lows though, moments where I wondered what the point of it all was. It is a year that has changed me, not just physically but psychologically. Without a doubt 2013 has been the year of my life, a year which will go down as the most important year of my life!

(.....to be continued!)

Misgendering, A Real Hurt

     A topic arose on Twitter today regarding misgendering. For those who aren't sure, misgendering is when someone refers to a trans person in their former gender. Thankfully it doesn't happen to me often. It never happens in the street or when I'm socialising. It does happen now and again though, within my own family. I can forgive it to a certain extent because I know it's accidental. It's often just a throw away word that gets lost in conversation and if reminded about it, the person wouldn't even remember calling me a he or a him! It does happen though. Now when I get referred to as he or him a few things happen. First I wonder if anyone else hears it. People do not refer to genetic females as him or he, not even accidentally. It just does not happen so if anyone over hears someone referring to someone else as the opposite gender it sets alarm bells ringing. After that I start to question myself. Do I still look like a man? Do I still carry myself as a man? There must be a reason why I've just been called him, there must be a reason?!?! I start to feel less confident, as though I've been struck by a pick axe. I've been chipped away and my raw self is exposed that bit more. It genuinely hurts to be referred to as a man. It's beyond insulting and does really upset me each and every time it happens, accidental or not.

So, the next time someone refers to you as someone in the opposite gender to which you are presenting just stop them and tell them exactly how it feels. Or, if you are the one doing the misgendering just think about how that person feels and please just think before you use the incorrect pro-nouns.

My First School Based Role

     In a couple of weeks I'll begin volunteering at a local school! I have a friend on Facebook who put me in contact with a school who are always keen to take on volunteers. Wait a minute, I'll start from the start.....

     Way back in May when I first started thinking about going into teaching I mentioned it on Facebook. A woman I went to school with sent me a message saying that the school she worked at were always after volunteers. It's a school which deals predominantly with special needs. At the time I put it on the back burner because I was concentrating on getting a plan together for my future. To be honest I wasn't completely sure how far I'd get down the old career changing route. I did wonder if, at the age of 31, I had it in me to truly start again! So, in the intervening time I started college and got a full-time job at a care home. I started to believe that I could change career, that I could become a future Primary School teacher. Self belief is such an important thing and despite what I've had to do to get to this point in my life I still really struggle with it. It takes a lot for me to really believe in myself. I have had moments over the past six months where I've thought about returning to the safety of the kitchen. I know the kitchen, it's familiar, somewhere I feel safe and comfortable. It's not somewhere I want to return though because if I were to go back in, I'd never leave! Anyway, now I'm sorted at college, I've started thinking seriously about university and actually becoming a teacher. One of the things I'll need if I am to get into university is experience within a school so I got back in contact with my friend and on Thursday afternoon I popped to see the deputy head and I start in a couple of weeks! I'm really looking forward to it! I even told her I'm trans and she was fine with it.

     In other news it was my grandmas funeral last week and we gave her a good send off. I read the ulogy along with my two sisters and my cousin and my brother read a poem. It was what my grandma would've wanted, her 5 grandchildren together talking about her life. Before the funeral we'd gotten together and written some notes and then I put it all together so it flowed. It was nice to spend time with the family because it's not often that we all get together these days.

     It has been a crazy few weeks with lots of change and emotion. Change and emotion has kind of been the theme for the year though and I'm looking forward to doing my end of year posts. There's such a lot to look back on in 2013 and so much to talk about.

A GRS Update

     A week or so ago I posted a link to my GRS diary on a support site for someone due to have her op next year and she asked if I'd post an update! Thinking about it I haven't really posted a GRS update and I guess I've just been too damn busy to even give a second thought about it. Since GRS I've completely changed career, started studying for three GCSE's at college and more recently I've had B.A. and experienced a family bereavement. It makes it hard to believe than I'm still only 7.5 months post-op! When life does take over though, as those going through GRS will agree, it does take on less of a significance in your life. It's really strange because you spend so long before the op preparing for it and yearning. It does really become very easy to forget that you actually had anything done down there! I honestly can not imagine having a penis for example. It really seems an alien concept to me and that's only half a year after the surgery!

     Anyway, update time. It's healed really well, the scars down the side of my vagina are healing. I have a sensitive clitoris and I have a reasonable depth. I am fairly happy with the surgical results. It looks like what it should and is a hell of a lot nicer than what I had before so I can't really complain can I.

     As for dilation, I tend to forget about doing it which is quite a bad habit to get into. When it was twice a day it was easy to keep track. When I woke up and when I went to bed. Now I'm on a couple of times a week and I really need to keep a proper schedule! I do have a fairly busy life (that will only get busier!) so it is difficult but I do need to be a bit more serious as far as dilation goes.

     That's kinda all there is to update people with. I'm back to fitness as far as that surgery goes and it's still one of the best things I ever did.

A Different Transition

     It's only been two weeks since I had the second surgery of 2013, my Breast Augmentation although it feels like a lot longer! This past two weeks have seemed to last a lifetime, so many different emotions being thrown together. In terms of my recovery, it's going okay. I'm looking to go back to work in a couple of weeks and I am feeling better than I was. They do feel sore and I especially notice it after a busy day. I'm not able to lift anything too heavy yet and even things like pulling a pint behind the bar are hard! I'm okay though and I am extremely happy with the results. It feels strange having bigger breasts but in a nice way. No regrets at all!

     We're starting to get ready for my grandmas funeral which is next week. I just need it done I guess. It still feels really surreal that she's not here anymore but we all have to come to terms with the fact she's not. I can still picture her, on the kitchen floor and although we now know that there was nothing we could've done it's still an image that's imprinted on my mind. It feels like something I watched rather than witnessed, like I wasn't really there. I guess it's the shock still or a way for my mind to make sense of it.

     I'm still enjoying college and, as I predicted, English is proving to be one of my stronger subjects. We did a controlled assessment a couple of weeks ago. It was an essay in which we had to analyse two different stories talking about the way emotions are portrayed in them and how the two stories are linked. The mark goes towards my final grade and I did very well. I got 12/15 which is equivalent to a B! My lecturer said that it was just a whisker away from an A! I'm so proud of myself and it's given me confidence that I can do well in all three GCSE's I'm doing. He said also that it was the highest grade in the year for the controlled assessment, just to make my head bigger! Afterwards, in my class, a few of my classmates started comparing results. I never told anyone mine but the general score was around the 7/15 mark which shows you how well I did!

     In terms of my longer goal, I still want to teach and I'm already looking ahead to next years studies and beyond. When I pass my GCSE's in June I'm looking at doing an Access Level 3 course in Humanities and Social Science. This is basically a substitute for A-Levels designed for mature learners. After that I should be able to get into University to train as a Primary School Teacher! I'm really starting to feel confident about my future now although I know how stressful it's going to be. I know it's not going to be easy but I'm as determined as ever to succeed!

     I have thought about renaming this blog because I do feel that I am no longer in transition. Saying that, although I'm not transitioning anymore in terms of my gender, my career is going through a transition from hardened Head Chef with temper issues (I used to shout and swear A LOT) to nice and gentle Primary School Teacher! Quite a transition don't ya think!

The Reminders

     It's nearly been a week since I found my Grandma with my mum and I'm still attempting to get over the shock of it all. It still doesn't seem real. It is real though and we're all getting through it as a family. It's a shame that it's taken something like this but we are all closer now. I've seen a bit more of my cousin and her husband and daughter and I've also seen more of my younger sister. I really hope that we can remain in pretty close contact going forward, especially with my cousin.
    
     One thing we've done recently is go through all of my grandmas old photos. There's her and my granddads wedding photo from the 1940's which is fascinating to see. There's also lots of photos of us all growing up, taken at various weddings. It did strike me that I don't like seeing old photos of me, as a little boy. My dad questioned that and I could see his point in a way. It is who I was and I'm not ashamed of it in anyway. I've never been ashamed of my childhood, it's a part of my life, my history. What it does do though, seeing myself as I once was, is bring back my dysphoria. All through my child hood I experienced feelings of wanting to be a girl, jealousy at my sisters because they were girls. Although, once I started to transition, now that I am a girl, those feelings dissipated they are still there because I never got to be a girl growing up. I missed out on a lot and when I get reminded of that I get depressed. I remember that I never got to be a little girl and so my dysphoria, my feelings of wanting to be a girl and those feelings of jealousy come rushing back.

R.I.P. Grandma

     It's funny how life can throw you a curveball. From the joy of getting B.A. on Thursday came the devastation and shock of a family bereavement yesterday. At 88 my Grandma was certainly no spring chicken but she was fitter than most thirty year olds I know. She still lived in her own bungalow, still got herself out and about when she wanted, still lived a completely full life. My mum went up to visit her yesterday and on the off chance I said I'd go with her. I needed to get out of the house and I really wanted to see my Grandma. When we got there the smoke alarm was going off and the house was filled with smoke where my Grandma had left something slow cooking on the stove. There wasn't any fire, just the remnants of her lunch smouldering away in the pan. My Grandma was laid on the kitchen floor where she's fallen. I called an ambulance whilst my mum checked for a pulse and it was soon apparent that she'd been gone for a couple of hours. We think (although we can't be sure until the post mortem) that she died as a result of a massive stroke. She looked peaceful and she hadn't moved once she'd hit the floor. There wasn't any sign of her bumping her head so we think that she was dead before she hit the floor. Considering how fit she was it is a shock and has hit the whole family really hard. We honestly thought she'd go on forever but I do believe that some people are like that. Despite the shock, if it was a sudden death like we think it was, it would've been the way she'd have wanted to go. She wouldn't have wanted to die in hospital and would've hated being in a nursing home. As it was she passed away in her own home and in her favourite room in that home, the kitchen. She was always baking and her pastry was the best I ever tasted. Her lemon curd tarts in particular will live long in the memory. She was also found by family, her daughter and one of her grand daughters. She wouldn't have wanted to have been found by strangers.

     When I think about my Grandma I think about her bluntness and about her straightforward nature. She was never someone who cried in public, preferring instead to weep in solace. She loved her family and was one of my greatest supporters in terms of my transition. One particular story I can remember is when I was at primary school. We had to grown beans in a jar and I gave mine to my Grandma and Granddad to grow. Weeks later, when the project had been forgotten about it, my Grandma turned up at the Primary School, outside my classroom complete with this four foot bean plant she'd grown! Embarrassed was not the word! I can also remember the long walks she used to take us on through the countryside and the summer holiday trips to Gulliver's Kingdom. She was full of life, right up until the end and despite her small stature, she'll leave a huge whole in the lives of all who knew her, especially in the lives of her daughter and son-in-law, her five grandchildren and her eight great-grandchildren!

     I'm going to finish this post with a poem that she liked and which will be read at her funeral.

SHE IS GONE

You can shed a tear that she is gone

Or you can smile because she has lived

 

You can close your eyes and pray that she'll come back

Or you can open your eyes and see all that she has left

 

Your heart can be empty because you can't see her

Or you can be full of the love you shared

 

You can turn your back on tomorrow and live yesterday

Or you can be happy for tomorrow because of yesterday

 

You can remember her and only that she's gone

Or you can cherish her memory and let it live on

 

You can cry and close your mind, be empty and turn your back

Or you can do what she'd want: smile, open your eyes, love and go on 

The Start Of Recovery, Take 2

     So, my recovery from my second (and last) operation on 2013 has begun. I got back from hospital at around 3ish yesterday afternoon and I pretty much went straight to bed. I ended up sleeping until nearly 7:00pm and after some Macaroni Cheese I was back in bed! I didn't sleep well last night though, managing around four hours before I woke up at 4:30am. After that I couldn't sleep so I stayed awake and got through the first series of Downton Abbey.

My 'wound' underneath my left breast.
The cotton wool flap near my armpit is
covering where the drain was.

     I'm trying to compare this experience to my last one but I can't really remember what the pain levels were like last time. This time it's hard, really hard. Because the surgical area is my chest it controls my arms, shoulders and my upper chest muscles. Getting out of bed is a real struggle. I have to skooch  along on my bum down to the bottom of the bed until my feet are hanging off the end. I then have to haul myself up using my chest of drawers. My right side is ok, I can move freely with little pain or discomfort. Most of my pain is located down my left side which leads me to suspect that I've pulled a stitch or two. I also think that the pain could be down to where my drain was located in that side. I'm having the painkillers sensibly and I'm slowly finding ways to minimise the discomfort. I'm sure that it'll only be for a few weeks and that's a comforting thought!

     As for the size of them, they are noticeably bigger if not a little too big. I'm sure that this is in part down to the swelling and once that goes down they'll be perfect. I am really happy with them so far and I can't wait to go bra shopping seeing as I'm going to have to throw my old ones out!

    

My B.A. Experience:- A Quick Rundown

Well I'm home after my Breast Augmentation! I'm going to post a more detailed story of my B.A. experience (just like I did with my G.R.S. experience earlier this year) so this is just a basic outline of the past couple of days.
   
     I was admitted to the T.A.U. (Theatre Admissions Unit) at Sheffields Royal Hallamshire Hoapital on Thursday morning at 7:00am and I was quickly shown to my own room by a nurse. I settled down in the chair and (not exactly sure what to do next) read a book on my IPad. Apparently a nurse was meant to come in to help me get sorted with a hospital gown but the next person I met was the Anaesthetist. He was a very pleasant man and after a couple of the usual questions about height, allergies, etc he was back on his way. Just before he went he mentioned that I was third on the list and could expect to be going to Theatre at around 10ish! A little while after he left Mr Caddy's (my surgeon) assistant popped in to make sure I was ok and to run through my details with me. She seemed a very happy person and instantly put me at ease (which is kinda what you want from someone who's just hours away from slicing you open!). After she went Mr Caddy himself appeared and asked me if I'd had anymore thoughts about what size I'd like to go to. I said that a D would be nice and so he explained that during the surgery he'd inflate a bubble under my skin to see how far it stretched!

     A little while after Mr Caddy goes, a nurse appears. She's blonde, in her mid twenties and also called Emma. She's extremely pleasant and starts to run through my details with me. She asks me the usual stuff like name, age, address, etc. When she nears the end of the form she asks me if I'm on my period or if not, how long since I was. I'm not exactly sure what to say at this point so I just say that I don't get periods. Cue one very confused look from the nurse before I explain that I'm transgendered. Although Emma the nurse doesn't know it, she's made my day! Before she leaves she gives me a gown and some paper nickers to wear and asks for a urine sample. I pop to the loo to sort out the urine sample before getting into the hospital clobber. Putting the paper nickers on it strikes me how dehumanising hospital can be. I'm a grown woman putting paper nickers on!

     After that I just sit and wait and the time passes very slowly. 10:00am comes and goes and it's pushing 11:30am before a member of the anaesthetist team  comes to get me. She quickly runs through my details before we walk to the knock out room. It's down a few very drafty corridors although I'm glad for the air. Being in that small room for four hours wasn't much fun.

     When we get to the knockout room I'm told to get on a bed. It reminds me of one of those beds they use to administer lethal injection in America with the arm rests! I jump up on the bed and lie down as they start attaching heart and pulse monitors to me. As I'm lying there I suddenly realise where I am and I start to get flashbacks to March! I find it hard to laugh as I ask myself what the hell am I doing here!? The anaesthetist from earlier shows his face and starts to attach a cannula to the back of my left hand. He asks me what my poison is before suggesting Vodka. The female anaesthetist suggests Gin before I admit that I prefer Vodka. Then follows a conversation about what alcoholic beverage everyone prefers. It's a bizarre conversation to be having in this situation but it takes my mind off the anaesthetic rushing up my arm. It's a cold but comforting feeling and really strange as it heads up the length of my left arm. It starts to ache a bit before I begin to shut my eyes. I hear voices saying 'she's under!' as I feel a mask being put over my face and the bed begins to move through some double doors! Then, instantly, I feel the bed being shoved backwards and a voice saying 'Emma darlin', it's all done!' I start to open my eyes as I come round. Everything feels bizarre. I feel bodies around me as I'm pushed into a bay on the recovery ward. A nice nurse explains that she'll be looking after me while I'm in recovery. I'm in recovery for around an hour. She injects some painkillers through the cannula and keeps monitoring my blood pressure, temperature, ect. Then I'm wheeled back to my original room in the T.A.U.

     I lay there for a while watching this black and white film on the telly. The remote doesn't work so I can't even change channels. In the end I ask one of the nurses (a girl called Lucy) to pass me my IPad so I can watch some Downton Abbey. She brings me a cup of coffee and a couple of slices of toast. Up until this point I couldn't praise the staff enough but once I've finished my toast they start talking about sending me home! When I cam for my pre-op I was told that I'd be staying in overnight so I planned for that. There's no way I can arrange a lift home that night. What makes their insistence even more bizarre is that I'm still attached to two drains (from either breast) which won't be removed until tomorrow! Over the next few hours they keep trying to get me to sort transport home but there is no one. Because I've had a general anaesthetic it'd have to be some one I knew too so a taxi is out of the question. In the end they admit defeat and I'm wheeled up to ward F2. The staff there instantly make me feel welcome and I'm helped into bed by a male nurse called Richard. There are 3 other beds on this ward all occupied by cancer sufferers. I feel guilty and not once do I tell them that my op is cosmetic! One other the other nurses fetches me a coffee and some biscuits before I settle down for the night. It's quite a restless night because they check the blood pressures at 12:00am and 4:00am. It's comfortable though and I appreciate the painkillers I get through the night.

     
     As morning arrives I have breakfast before deciding I want a wash and freshen up. I'm helped to the bathroom by a young nurse called Jennifer. Once in the shower room she unclips the tight bra I've been put in. It's designed to keep everything in place as it all heals so it pushes my breast together creating quite a nice cleavage. Once the bra is off I can see my new breasts for the first time. They're definitely bigger and more pert and I have sensation too! At that point I come over dizzy and start to feel faint. I feel like I'm going to collapse so Jennifer helps me to a chair. I feel so ill and sweat starts pouring out of every pore. The wash is abandoned and I'm taken back to the ward in a wheel chair. I feel so helpless and so dependant on the nurses that I start to cry back on the ward. They monitor me for an hour and slowly my colour starts to come back. I'm so glad I stayed and it just proves that sending me home might not have been the best idea!

     I have my drains out soon after and once they're out I suddenly start to feel better. I manage some lunch and then I manage to wash and get dressed myself. I instantly feel better and at around 1:30pm I'm discharged. I get a taxi home and the taxi driver decides to take the back roads to avoid the busy traffic. This means that we hit a lot of speed bumps and I feel each and every one! I then start to feel sick and I come close to throwing up. I end up spending most of the journey with my head over a plastic bag. Once I get home I head straight for bed. I feel weak and tired but glad to be home as I realise that my recovery has only just begun!

The Eve of Surgery.....Again!

7 months ago I was just a couple of days away from the biggest operation of my life. I was nervous, scared, all the things you might expect. Now, I'm on the eve of another operation and one which will have just as much significance as the one 7 months ago. Tomorrow morning, at 7:00am I'm due at the Theatre Admissions Unit at Sheffields Royal Hallamshire Hospital where I will undergo Breast Augmentation! It's an operation I never thought I'd have because I never imagined it'd be accessable to me. I certainly couldn't afford it myself so the only route for me was always the NHS and I never imagined I'd get it that way! Alas, I was wrong and it's happening, I'm getting a 'boob job' and I couldn't be happier!

     I'm trying to compare how it feels now to how I felt the night before my last operation in March. Then I was nervous because I didn't know what to expect, it was a new experience for me. I was also scared because it was my first operation since I was a very small child. I didn't know what to expect from being put to sleep or how the process worked. This time I know how it feels to be put to sleep and I'm not scared really because of that. I'm more annoyed than anything. It's the whole pre-op thing I'll have to go through. The needles, the whole nil by mouth thing, the palaver of having surgery! Everything else I'm fine with! The anesthetic  doesn't bother me, the recovery doesn't bother me either but the whole hospital experience surrounding the surgery does!

     I'll be fine and I'm looking forward to composing another 'surgery diary' although it'll be fairly short because I'm only in hospital overnight. I'll keep you all informed to how it goes and I'll see you on the other side!

Like A Prized Fighter Heading Back Into The Ring For One Last Shot At The Bigtime! (cue Rocky music)

     At school I hated maths. It was just beyond me, the numbers and the fractions, I could never get my head around it. I did manage to get a D at GCSE level 15 years which was one of my higher grades overall. I'm not entirely sure how though.
     Recently I've begun retaking my GCSE's at college. For my future career plans I need Maths, English and Science at GCSE level. I'm actually really enjoying my Maths, infact it's my favourite subject! The lecturer is really nice though and I've got a nice group of friends there. She just makes it sound so easy though. I've pretty much master long division with decimal points, something I wouldn't have had a clue about 2 weeks ago! Considering I was a chef for 14 years, my obvious lack of basic maths skills is quite scary!

     Talking about being a Chef I'm going to be heading back into a kitchen in the very near future. It's something that I've thought about and although I'm still not wanting to be a chef long term, short term it might be my best option. I've contacted a few agencies with a view to doing some temp relief work. It's something I considered way back in April after my GRS. I think I just needed a clean break though and it has done me good. I feel refreshed and I'm kinda excited about the idea of cooking again. The beauty of relief work is that I'll be moving around, not always stuck in the same kitchen. I should also be able to work it around my college commitments! A driving force behind my decision though is money. I'm earning minimum wage doing nights in a nursing home and although it's a rewarding job in many aspects, it's not a job I enjoy. Nights are exhausting and I'm struggling on the minimum wage. As an agency chef I could command between £10-£15/hour which kinda spits on the £6.39/hour I'm presently earning!

 

GRS: 6 Months on!!

The Marjorie Warren Ward
where I recuperated after the op!

     Six months ago, at just gone 11:00am I was admitted to the Majorie Warren Ward at Charing Cross hospital for GRS. Little did I know, as I settled into a bed on E-Bay, that I was at the beginning of a week that would prove to be the most amazing, most self defining week of my life! At just after 3:00pm I was wheeled up to theatre. I can still remember the sick feeling in my stomach, the nerves, the wonder of it all as I was wheeled into the knock out room. I can remember Mr Bellringers glare as they struggled to put me to sleep and I can still remember waking up after the op and my first words 'Is it done?!'. The op was just a small part of that week though, just a detail if you will. For the six months leading up to the op, that's the thing I'd focused on. I'd never imagined how the week in hospital after the op would effect me. It would leave something imprinted on me and in a small way it changed me. It changed my outlook on things and actually changed my fears and how I perceive everyday life.



     The first few days after the op were boring and actually quite lonely. I was on my own, or at least I felt like I was. The ward was full although the other two trans parents in my bay were really ill. I didn't feel like I could share my GRS experience with anyone, didn't feel like I could compare notes so to speak. It was only as I headed towards the weekend that I began to feel a part of things. The other two trans patients in my bay (Adele and Debs) got better and so I got to know them and we actually started doing things together like going to the coffee shop and doing each others nails. Then, around the same time, another trans patient (Sally) popped in. She was staying on another bay on the


The day after the op.
Thankfully it looks A LOT better
these days!

ward. By the weekend it was amazing. Debs, a tall lady with curly red hair and the driest sense of humour became one of my most favourite people in the world. Adele, a tattooed girl with jet black hair became a relatable ward mate while Sally, a middle aged lady with a great outlook on life was one of the nicest most unassuming people I had ever met. They all had stories and I loved hearing about their different experiences. Mine seemed pretty tame compared to theirs! Although I still keep in touch with them all via Facebook (in regards to Adele and Sally) and SMS (in regards to Debs) it's what they meant during that week that will always stay with me. Debs (in particular) made me laugh so much. One particular moment that will stay with me is horrific on it's own but Debs made it funny with the simplest of lines. Her vaginal packing came out early and she proceeded to tell me about it describing it as like 'giving birth to a rag doll!'


(left to right) Debs, Adele and myself
on my discharge.
 

     As the week drew to a close things began to take up my day. On the Saturday morning I had my packing out. That was, and still is, one of the most traumatic moments of my life. It was so uncomfortable and seemed to take forever. Once the packing came out I had to start dilating 3 times a day. In hospital I was happy for it because it gave me something to do. My parents came to visit me on the Saturday afternoon and on the Sunday myself, Sally and Debs had a walk to the chapel. It was Easter Sunday and provided a really touching moment. I'm not religious but I used it as an opportunity to give thanks as well as giving thought to the loved ones I've lost.
     I was discharged on the Monday and as I left Charing Cross I cried. I cried in the taxi, I cried at the station and I cried at home. I missed the place, missed the connections I'd made, missed the experience. It was a week of two halves and when I look back, 6 months on, it's not
necessarily the op I'm celebrating. It's the experience I'm looking back on, a truly unforgettable experience!

The Unexpected Boobs

     Well, I'm getting B.A. (Breast Augmentation). It's happening on the 24th of October in Sheffield. Perhaps I should rewind a bit. Back in June I had an appointment at Nottingham G.I.C. and at that appointment Dr Bouman mentioned about my breast development. It's not been the best if I'm honest. I have something though so it's not too bad. I was just expecting more I guess. Anyway, he mentioned that he's have a chat with the commissioner and that B.A. might be a possibility. A few days later and I had it confirmed that I'd be referred for B.A. and it's just progressed from there. A couple of weeks ago I had an appointment with Mr Caddy in Sheffield and he put me forward for surgery. Just before the weekend I got my date and it's in a months time!
    
     Breast surgery was never really a part of my transition plan because I never really thought it'd be a realistic possibility. I was happy with the GRS and the hormones. Now I still can't quite process the fact that I'm going under the knife again and that I'm going to wake up with better boobs, with a cleavage! It still seems a really strange concept to me. I think that the swiftness of the operation is quite scary. It still feels like a dream really. I can remember before I had GRS. I had a few dreams where I was going down for surgery but I wasn't ready. That's what this feels like. I'm not entirely sure I'm ready! That's not to say that I'm having second thoughts because I'm not, not in the slightest. I'm starting to really look forward to it. The recovery doesn't scare me either. If I can recover from GRS then I can recover from this, that's for certain!

     I think that because I never expected it I've not prepared for it. Ultimately I spent three years preparing for GRS. I've had two weeks to prepare for BA! I'll be ok and (although I'm only in hospital overnight) I'll post another hospital diary!

The Art of the Care Assistant

     For the past couple of months I've been working as a care assistant in a residential home for the elderly. I do night shifts which will fit in with my college courses in a couple of weeks. It's been an experience like no other, certainly beyond what I thought it might be. I've been a chef for my entire career so going onto nights at a care home has been a complete departute from anything I've ever done before.
     Last night one of the residents passed away. He'd been in hospital for a few days and this morning at around 5am we got the call. I was really fond of this particular resident because he was a lovely old man. I got him up a few times, shaved him, washed him and dressed him. I checked on him in the night to make sure he was ok and I emptied his catherter bag and made sure he was comfortable. To be an effective carer you need to be there for the residents needs, need to care for them while also being able to distance yourself. It takes a very special person to be able to do that, believe me! I'm finding it really hard to process the fact that he's passed away even though he was in his late eighties. I've never been good with death though, never been good at dealing with it. My own mortality doesn't scare me really, it's the mortality of others that effects me. Last year, an old school friend died. Well, two old school friends died! I cried for days over their deaths even though I hadn't seen either of them for years! If I struggle to process death, struggle to deal with it, am I in the right job?!
     I guess it shows I care, that I'm so cut up about an old man who I barely knew. I guess from that respect I am in the right job. The fact that I was there in his final weeks and days, the fact that I offered him a friendly ear and a gentle voice can only be a positive thing, a really nice thing. I think that in the future, when I move on to my planned teaching career, I will see this period in my life as a truly positive thing. I will look back and see that I helped these people in their final chapters, that I was there for them and that I made them as comfortable as possible. Now isn't that something to be proud about!

Being A Student For Dummies

     When I was at school I didn't do very well. I left in 1998 with my highest GCSE grade of a D! There can be little excuse for this but if I had to give some kind of explanation for why I did so poorly then I'd lay the blame at the door of my Gender Dysphoria. That may seem the easy option and maybe it is. It can become so easy to blame ones failings in life on G.D. and that's something I hate doing because where do you stop? At what point do you accept that you failed because you simply weren't good enough? I know I wasn't good enough to get a C grade at GCSE level but it's no coincidence that when I was doing my exams I was also taking my gender exploration to another level. It was the summer of '98, during my study leave, that I dressed up in women's clothes for the first time. This just blew my mind off into places it'd never been before. Yes, I wasn't good enough at school but the fact that my mind was so consumed by other things, well it certainly didn't help matters!

The south Annex of
Chesterfield College

     So, I left school without a C grade at GCSE level which essentially left me with going the apprenticeship route. I tried 8 months at Painting and Decorating before I fell into the Catering industry. 14 years on and I suddenly decide that I want to better myself, improve my life and future. My G.D. is cured so why not, what's holding me back? I want to be a Primary School Teacher and because I didn't do well first time around I need to redo my Maths, English and Science GCSE's. Today I enrolled for the English and Science courses (awaiting on my screening results for my maths course) which meant a trip to my local college. Chesterfield College is huge with 2 or 3 different campus sites dotted around Chesterfield. I went there when I was doing my Painting and Decorating and it's not really changed much in 15 years! It really took me back, being there. On my way there I drove past the spot where I had my first kiss. It was with a girl called Sarah and just seeing that spot, I was transported back to the summer of '99! It's funny that, how certain places can trigger your memory into recalling something you'd all but forgotten about.

     I start my courses on the 10th September and I'm really looking forward to getting stuck into it. Doing these GCSE's are more than just about a future career though. It's about giving me a new target to aim for, a new project to concentrate on. Following surgery, one of the biggest battles I faced was the normality of reality. When you transition it dominates your life. When you get to a stage where surgery becomes a viable option, the thought of the surgery dominates your every thinking. It becomes the only thing on your horizon and when you reach it, when you get past it there's nothing else. It leaves a huge void and realising that, realising you have nothing else to aim for, that you've accomplished your dream, well it's not an easy thing to come to terms with. I guess that's one of the reasons I've decided in a career change. I need that new target, that new thing to accomplish. That's what doing these GCSE's are all about, giving me a reason to continue, a reason to look forward!

I'm Back, For Now!

This is a post I've been holding off. After my last 'Goodbye' post I felt that I'd be cheating if I decided to post again, like I'd be going back on what I'd decided to do in ending this blog. Looking back though, there's a reason I entitled that last post like I did. I did intend not to post on this blog again, that's true. By entitling it 'Goodbye, For Now' I inserted a kind of failsafe. If I ever felt the need to blog again then I could. I guess I never locked the door, merely closed it for a while.

     So why am I back when I seemed so determined to end this blog? The time seemed so right, didn't it? I'd seemingly transitioned, everything was going so well in my life, wasn't it? Well it still is, so don't worry about that. One of the reasons I posted on this blog for over five years was that it gave me an outlet. I'm a pretty solitary person in that I don't mind my own company. I don't have many friends, certainly no one I can call a best friend. I'm not depressed by that, it doesn't bother me really. The thing is that by having no 'best friends' I don't really have anyone to talk to. That's where this blog comes in. Over the course of five years and three months this blog was the one constant in my life. It was the one thing that remained unchanged. In a period of my life where everyone I knew changed how they perceived me, where I changed myself, where my whole life changed, this blog didn't and during the two months I stayed away from it, I missed that!

     So, what's been happening in this past two months. Well, quite a bit as it happens. In my working life I've started doing nights at a care home as a care assistant. It's something I've never done before and in that respect I'm enjoying it. I don't mind the night work so much, I've always been a bit of a night owl anyway. It's a job at the end of the day and I'm just happy that I'm not in a kitchen anymore. I certainly do not regret my decision to 'retire' from catering. It's been nearly five months since I last cooked professionally and I don't miss it, not really. I only just realised last week that I will actually be able to look forward to Christmas for a change! That will definitely be a novelty!

     In terms of my future career, well that's starting to take shape. I had my GCSE screening exams a couple of months ago. I need to redo my Maths, Science and English GCSE's if I want to be a teacher. In order to be accepted onto the courses they need to make sure that you're capable of getting at least a C grade. I passed my Science and English tests so I need to enrol next week. I failed my Maths one though so I need to retake that tomorrow. If I fail it again then I'll have to wait another year before I get another chance. Essentially if I fail, it could put my future career plans back an entire year! I'm not particularly confident considering my terrible grasp on numbers but I'll see how I do. If I pass then it'll be great. If I fail then it won't be so great but I'll pick myself up and work out a plan B.

     In terms of my transition, well where do I start! I've been on HRT for three years now and one of my main concerns pre-op was my cleavage. I'd gotten to a small A cup around two years ago and I'd stayed there, with very little or no growth. When I had my last appointment at the GIC in June, he mentioned that he may be able to refer me to a breast surgeon for BA. a couple of weeks later and he referred me to a Mr Caddy in Sheffield. I now have an appointment to see him next month. The thing is that since the op, well since he referred me for BA, I've had a boost and gone up a cup size to B. When I had my bloods taken recently, my Oestrogen was low, around 365 when it should be between 400 and 600 so I've had my HRT increased to 3mg twice a day. So, if I had a boost when my Oestrogen was low, what can I expect now it's been increased? I'm beginning to feel a bit of a fraud going for BA when I might not need it! Of course, an explanation as to my boost in boobs could be that since the op I've put on around a stone in weight. I'm now in the process of losing that weight so I'm scared that if I don't go for BA then I loose weight, that my boobs will shrink again. It's a quandary alright, all be it a nice one to have. If anyone has any advice on this subject, please let me know. I need all the help I can get!

     Something else that's taken shape over the past two months is my book. I've written 45,000 words so far which puts me about half way. I've attempted to write my book so many times before but I've rarely gotten past the first 2,000 words. I'm determined to finish it now with a view to publish it next year. Basically it's about my journey from that cliff top in November 2008 to My Bellringers table earlier this year. I'm really enjoying writing it actually! I think everyone has a story to tell but rarely get a chance to tell it. This is my chance. It has the working title of 'The End of the Rainbow' which will probably be it's final title, unless anything else comes to mind. We'll see!

     Anyway, I'm back, I'm not closing the door anytime soon and you know what, it feels right!

Goodbye, For Now

Thankyou!

No really, Thankyou!

I've been thinking how I could start this post and saying Thankyou seemed the best way.

Five years ago I started blogging and over the years, as I've blogged about my transition I blogged not just for myself but for you. There were times when I thought it was a way of helping myself make sense of transition but in reality that was only a small reason. Ultimately there's no point in blogging if you don't have some form of readership. It doesn't matter how people come across a blog, whether it be stored in their favourites list or they just come across it while browsing, without that readership you may as well give up. So Thankyou for reading over the past five years or so, Thankyou for joining me along this journey!

     When I had surgery I wasn't quite sure how I would feel afterwards. I had no idea how it would change things in my mind. It's had an enormous effect in so many different ways. For the first time in my life I'm 100% comfortable with my sexuality. I'm happier with my body than I've ever been. Sure I still have a couple of hangups but what woman doesn't? I think that the most major change psychologically is that I feel fixed. I feel cured. I no longer suffer from Gender Dysphoria because that would mean that I had confusions about my gender identity and I don't.  I'm a woman through and through and no one can question that fact any more.

     For the first time, perhaps in my life, I feel confident enough and ready enough to embark on romantic relationships. I have no issues to prevent me from getting close to someone, no hidden secrets either. My past is mine to dispense with when I feel ready to, not when I meet someone for the first time.

     For the first time I feel confident enough to change my career. I feel it's possible to start from scratch and to make a new life for myself doing something I really want to do. I was stuck in catering because it was all I knew. I was good at it and I made Head Chef so I succeeded at it. In the end that wasn't enough. What's the point of being at the top of a career you really don't enjoy. I'm now looking at going into teaching. I've applied to redo my GCSE's. One of my greatest regrets is that I didn't come out of school with much. Now I've got a chance to change that, to be something and I'm going to throw my all into it. I will pass them and I will qualify as a teacher and I'm determined to be a bloody good one.

     Throughout this process my family has been my rock. My parents have been the best parents anyone could have. It wasn't easy for them at first but they learned to accept me for who I was even if they didn't fully understand it. If it wasn't for them I'm not sure I'd be here now. My sisters have been great and I'm closer to my big sister than I've ever been. I look after her three children every week while she works nights and they really are great kids, as are all of my nieces (3) and nephews (4). Those who protest that children don't understand when an adult transitions or that it might make children want to transition themselves are proved wrong by the kids in my family. I'm Aunty Emma now and they don't question that. Nor have they showed any signs that they may copy me! Children are innocent of the prejudices of adults. It's just a pity that some adults choose to drill those prejudices into their children's minds. My brother still has a long way to go and I'm not sure he'll ever get there. My sister in law (his wife) is great. We work together most Wednesday's which I really enjoy. I'm disappointed by my brother but I'm past sad now. If he can't get over himself after four years of knowing then that's up to him. One thing I do know is that we'll both be deeply regretful one day, only one of us will deserve to.

     All in all, I'm living life. I'm meeting new people as well as getting back in touch with old friends. The futures mine now and it's exciting. For the first time in my life I feel confident enough to look to the future with optimism. For the past four years transition has dominated my life, it's been an ever present. Now I feel free from it. It was a burden at times but going through it has been an experience that has made me stronger. It's something I should never have had to go through but I'm glad I did. I'm glad I had the strength of character to stick to my convictions, to transition no matter the cost.

     So we come to the end, not just the end of the post, the end of the blog. I feel that nows the right time to sign off, now I'm fixed. I will leave this blog up as I think it's important to share our journeys even if we no longer write about them. It is time to end though I think. I may post again, you never do know what can happen in life. For the foreseeable future though I won't be posting o this blog. I will still keep blogging though, in some form. It just won't be trans related. If you want the new address, just message me and I'll give it to you once I start blogging again.

So, this is it. Goodbye, for now at least.

Stepping Back Out Of The Wardrobe

     On Monday I had my follow up appointment at Charing Cross GIC. It meant a day trip to London which I do like. London has this majesty about it. I'm from a place where everyone knows you so I quite enjoy the anomy that London offers. Before yesterday I'd arranged to meet up with Debs (who was in the bed next to mine on FBay) and Sally (who had her op 2 days after me). We all had our follow up appointments within half an hour of each other so I was looking forward to seeing the both of them again. 

     

     I caught the 9:55am train down from Chesterfield and so arrived in London St Pancras for 1:05pm. My appointment was at 2:15pm so I made my way straight there. This meant a trip on the tube which I kinda enjoy. I like the experience of the underground but I don't like it when it gets too busy. Anyway, I caught the tube and after a short walk from Hammersmith Tube to the GIC I arrived at just before 2pm. Sally and Debs were already there and after a few hugs we sat down to catch up. It was great to be exchanging notes on our different experiences. Debs looked so well, a far cry from the frail thing who'd suffered so much after undergoing a colonvaginaplastys. Sally looked well too although, as I discovered a little later, she was extremely worried. She's been really struggling with depth and actually thought some packing had been left in her vagina!

      

     Debs was seen first and so I took the time to catch up with Sally. This was when I found out about her problems. It made me feel a tad guilty because a few weeks ago I'd been worried about my depth but managed to, somehow, gain a little bit more recently. On the whole my recovery has been problem free. 

     

     After Debs came out it was my turn to be called in. Mr Bellringer (my surgeon) was sat down with Manjit and after a quick chat about how things were going, it was straight onto an examination. He spotted a bit of granulation near my clitoris which he sorted out with some silver nitrate. Now for those who don't know what granulation is I'll try my best to explain. Basically, as with many surgeries, there are parts which struggle to heal. With most surgeries though, drier surgeries, this parts do eventually heal. With Vaginoplasty the site is being constantly disturbed and is almost constantly wet. These parts (called granulation) don't heal and so need cauterising with silver nitrate to heal. After he'd sorted out that first bit if granulation I mentioned about some discharge I'm still getting so he had a further look inside my vagina. Apparently one side was perfectly healthy skin but the other side had granulation which he sorted out with some more silver nitrate. 

       

     After the examination I cleaned myself up and that was it, appointment over. Apparently everything's fine on the whole although if I do account any more discharge I'm to call Manjit immediately. 

     

     Next it was Sally's turn which gave me a chance to catch up with Debs. I like debs because she really makes me laugh with some of the things she says. She's got a really dry sense of humour and some of the things she's done with her life! Anyway, it was great to catch up with her and we've arranged for me to pop down to Brighton to see her at some point. A few minutes later Sally came out with instructions to pop to admissions at the hospital to arrange a date when Mr Bellringer could take a closer look at why she's struggling for depth.  

     

     After we'd all been seen we popped over to the hospital. Sally needed to pop to admissions to get a date to be seen again and I wanted to pop back to the Majorie Warren ward. I'd gotten a card and some chocolates as a thank you to the nurses who looked after me during my week after surgery.  After Sally had gotten her date we all strolled down the familiar corridors to the ward. It seemed really strange, as though nothing had changed. It was like I'd stepped through the wardrobe to Narnia, been living my life, then stepped back through to find no time had passed. The ward looked exactly the same and I think it helped me going back. Certain situations can get romanticised in your mind and I think that that happened to me as regards to my week on Majorie Warren. I needed to be reminded how dreary and depressing a place it actually is. I can remember comparing it to the ward on One Flew Over The Cuckoos Nest and now I remember why! 

      

     After the trip back to the ward we popped over the road for a coffee and a chat. It's amazing how we've all changed from the walking wounded we were at Easter. I guess I realised how much I've recovered myself in seeing Debs and Sally again. It's not been easy but I'm definitely ok. I still have the odd bad day and I still get really sore sometimes. My fitness isn't back to where it was yet, that's for sure. I'm getting there though and that's encouraging.   

A Quick Rewind Into The Future

     I've just read back a few posts and I realised I said something in my last post that I probably hadn't referred to before. I mentioned about the horrors of the first week so now I'm going to rewind a bit and fill in the blanks.

     When I got home from hospital on the 1st April I was so drained. It was an exhausting journey and it took me a couple of weeks to really get over it. I'd just had major invasive surgery, a surgery with a lot of risks involved. Of course a six hour journey was going to be hard.
   
     The next day I kind of mooched around. I had a mega lie in and just spent the rest of the day on my bed watching telly. It was that evening that I noticed a smell emanating from the surgical site. It was accompanied by a milky yellow discharge and an increase in pain. I knew then that I'd picked up an infection and the next day I had it confirmed by my GP who prescribed me a course of antibiotics. The infection wasn't actually the worst of my worries in that first week. I had a lot of trouble with dilation. Now, in those early days, dilation is hard and requires a certain amount of discipline. Dilating three times a day on top of recovering from major surgery really takes it out of you. I had a certain amount of difficulty getting the larger dilator in and for the first 5 days I cried my way through dilation. Throughout this whole process I've never had any regrets but during that first 5 days I came close.
   
     Things got really bad when during dilation I got a bleed from some of my stitches. The blood ran down over my dilator so when I pulled it out the dilator was coated in a film of blood. At first I thought I'd caused a bleed inside my vagina which really scared the hell out of me.
     
     I think that I'd become reliant on the nurses in hospital. I was only in for a week but it's surprising how used to the routine you get. Not having that routine effected me more than I dared to admit.

     After that first week things began to settle down as I got used to my new routine. The tri-daily dilations were hard and it really does take it out of you. I managed to get down to twice a day at around week 6 without any real discomfort. I've even managed to gain a bit of depth which was pleasantly surprising and resulted in a very excited tweet. It has been a very hard experience though, the hardest of my life. I always believed that 'coming out' and the months that followed would be the hardest time of my life. I honestly never imagined that anything would come close. I was wrong and the experience of Gender Realignment Surgery has blown it out of the water. It's the discipline that's involved. Some days are fantastic but other days can be pretty dire and it takes a lot to get through these days, it really does. On the whole though I have absolutely no regrets. Before the surgery I did wonder if I'd miss having a penis. I think it's the knowledge that it's an irreversible operation that gets your mind weighing things up in strange ways. I don't miss it though and I'm so happy with what I've got now.

     This experience has certainly made me think about things. While you are going through transition there's not much else that gets a look in. It really can dominate your every thought. Once you have the surgery though, once you get to a point whereas you feel you are 'cured', other thoughts come into play. One of these thoughts has been regarding my sexuality. Am I straight, bi or gay, it's something I've never been quite sure of. I think I tried to find reasoning with my gender issues and linked the two together when gender and sexuality are two very different things. Do I like men? I thought I did, hell I even had a boyfriend last year! That didn't turn out too well but maybe it was for the best. Maybe I was trying to fit into the complete female role like I'd tried to fit into the male one years ago. I'm not sure I like men and that's a new issue in my life. I'll be honest in that at the age of 31 I never thought I'd still be questioning my sexuality but in truth it's a question I never really answered. I've been with women and at the time it didn't feel right but that was a problem with myself and my gender not them. I still fancied them, still wanted to be with them, just not in the male role. I always considered myself bisexual. It was easy rather than admit to myself that my sexuality might have more question marks than my gender. The truth is that I'm not sure I'm even bisexual anymore. I certainly can't picture myself with another man again. Does that make me gay? Possibly, more than likely. It not something I'm ashamed of though and admitting it is kind of empowering.

     In other news I've been giving pretty serious thought to ending this blog, especially in its current form. I'll still carry on blogging but it won't be a transition story anymore. I think that transition blogs do have a sell by date because there does come a point when transition is no longer this huge thing in someone's life. When that happens what do you blog about? When you get discharged from the GIC, when you get your GRC (Gender Recognition Certificate), what else can you write about regarding transition?
   

The Easy Annoyance

     It's been nearly a month since my last post although that has been down to a couple of reasons. The first reason is that I've had limited access to WiFi since I moved a few weeks ago. The other reason is that there hasn't really been that much to post about. Life's getting normal I guess which has surely been my target for the past five years.

     Despite not having much to post about things have happened. I've moved back to Chesterfield and now live above a pub. My parents took the pub on nearly three weeks ago and I moved with them. It's helped them as I've been able to help them in the pub and it's helped me because it's rent free. I'm enjoying being back in Chesterfield although I never actually left the place really. I moved away when I was 21 and I went to work up North. Since then I did some work abroad and in that time my parents moved so I never returned to Chesterfield to live. I did still visit the place though, still headed to Chesterfield to shop rather than Mansfield. I even worked in Chesterfield for three years! It's not quite the same as living there though and now after ten years I can say I'm a Chesterfield citizen again.

     Regarding my transition , things are going ok. I'm used to my new anatomy now and I honestly can't imagine ever having anything else. To me it looks beautiful and I'm so happy with it. I'm getting around 5.5 inches of depth which I'm reasonably happy with. Another inch would be great but I'm not sure I'd want to go through the surgery to get it. Dilations easier now and the horrors of the first week are just a distant memory. I've managed to cut down to two dilations a day now without any discomfort or tightness. Although dilation doesn't hurt it is annoying. The worst one is the night one. Sometimes I just want to get into bed and sleep without the routine of dilating. I really can't wait until I can get down to one dilation a day although I understand that that could be another four months down the line!

     In terms of my recovery I feel like I'm over the worst. My energy levels aren't what they were yet but I'm getting there. I still get sore but not as bad as I did. I have good days and bad days I guess. The bad days are down to tiredness I'm sure. I am starting to think about going back to work sooner rather than later. I need to be earning a wage, need the self worth that that brings. I'm sticking to my guns as regards to the chef thing. Im not sure what I want to do in the short term. In the long term I'm definitely going into teaching. I just need a part time job to get me by for the time being.

A Good Career, A Past Career

     14 years ago, nearly to the day I went to do a food hygiene course at a place my mum worked. I'd been out of work for a while following a six month stint at Painting and Decorating and I'd decided at a change in career. I was 17 so it wasn't that scary a thing back then, it was something I just needed to do. I never liked Painting and Decorating, it just wasn't me. Anyway, I went to do this food hygiene course because I'd decided what my new career would be, I'd decided to become a chef.

     I'll never forget a moment while on this course. It was the dinner break and the man who was running the course sat down for a chat. He asked me what I did to which I replied that I was between jobs. He then said, and I can remember this like it was yesterday, 'I've got one piece of advice for you, don't become a chef, whatever you do, don't become a chef!'. A week later, that's precisely what I did.

     Do I regret becoming a chef? Do I have any regrets over a 14 year career? Not really, no. If I had my time again I wouldn't go into catering but it's why I did in this life and my life wouldn't have been as rich had I not pursued it or stuck at it. I've met some amazing people, had some amazing experiences in some fascinating places. Being a chef has been rewarding in so many ways and I certainly don't look on it as a failure or a mistake. I can 'retire' knowing I've covered virtually every area of catering (banqueting, restaurant, bistro, pub and ala carte) apart from fast food (thank god!). I've worked in every area of the kitchen delivering some pretty amazing food. I've cooked for the stars (I cooked Dennis Taylor a cheese and ham omelette in '02) and I've made Head Chef. Overall I can look back on my time as a Chef as a success.

     My first job was at a Hotel in my hometown of Chesterfield called the Ringwood Hall Hotel. I spent nearly 4 years there before (at my request) I got a transfer to the companys sister hotel in Widnes. Widnes is a strange town near Warrington and St Helen's and I made some great friends while working at the Everglades Park Hotel. I spent 14 months there before I got the chance to work abroad.
   
     Working in Spain at the La Manga Club resort was amazing. I was 22 and I had the time of my life. I was out every night before working through some pretty monstrous hangovers the following days. I worked in a restaurant called La Finca which was English run under a head chef I still consider to be the best head chef I worked under. On my day off I'd go snorkelling before hitting the bars at night and in work I learned things I still use today. I managed 10 months though before I came home and headed to Bakewell to work at the Rutland Arms Hotel.

     I had the most fun at the Rutland Arms, the kitchen team being quite a boisterous bunch. We used to wind each other up and play pranks but the work got done. It was a sad day when that team broke up but break up it did and 3 years later I headed back to Spain.

     This second stint in Spain was different because I was older but it was still a good experience. It was great to be back working under the head chef and it felt like I'd never been away. I managed another 10 months before I decided (due to my gender issues) that I needed to be back in England. I flew back and went to work at a hotel in the hope valley in the heart of the Peak District called Losehill House Hotel.

     Losehill was good experience in that the menu changed daily. The head chef was a really good desert chef so I learned a lot in that regard. It was a nice place to work and is possibly one of my favourite kitchens in the view we got. Most kitchens have a couple of small windows with views of back yards or brick walls. At Losehill we had a big window with a an amazing view  of the valley. I left after 6 months to work back at Ringwood Hall Hotel.

     Being back at Ringwood was strange because while it was 7 years on since I'd left, nothing had changed. It was within the first 6 months that I 'came out' to everyone about being trans and within the first year that I began my transition. Everyone was so good and so accepting about it that I'll always have a special place in my heart for Ringwood. The fact that everyone knew about my trans status though was actually one of my reasons for leaving because I needed to wok somewhere where I could be Emma the woman rather than Emma the transexual. Id spent 3 years at Ringwood before I went to work at a newly opened place in Tuxford called The Fountain.

     My time at The Fountain was good in that I learned a lot and I made some great friends. It was bad in the way it ended. While here I became head chef after the owners left. The new owners then forced all of the staff out so I had to move on. The place I moved onto was a pub/bistro in Devon called The Cromwell Arms. I enjoyed my time there and it was a nice stop gap before I had my operation in March. Devon is a truly beautiful place full of some amazing characters.

     And here we are now, at the end of a career, looking back. As I've said, I don't have any regrets. Why am I 'retiring' then? Why end a career when I have had such fond times? I just don't want to be a chef anymore. The thought of spending the next 30 years in a kitchen horrifies me pretty much. Now is the right time for a change it really is. I'm on sick until the end of June and then I get to start on a clean slate and its so exciting.

     So what of my future? Well I'm planning on going into teaching. I'm going to go back to college to redo my GCSE's in English, Maths and Science (part time yearly courses at my local college) in September. Once I've passed them I'm going to do an Access to Higher Education course in teaching (another yearly course) before going to do my diploma and teacher training. In the mean time I'm going to get my CRB check done and then do some voluntary work in a local school. I'm also going to get a job to pay the bills and I'm going to help my parents out on their new pub. As long as I don't end up back in a kitchen again, I'll be happy.  

My GRS Experience - Day 8

Day 8: Monday 1st April 2013

     I wake up at the normal time of 5:00am despite the fact that I didn't get to sleep until gone 2:00am. I just lay in bed thinking, no energy to even put my IPad on. Today is a big day in that I'm going home. I'm looking forward to it, looking forward to a brand new future but the fear is still there. The outside scares me a bit despite the fact that I've only been in here a week. I've become institutionilised and it's a shock at how quickly that can happen.

     Today I dilate early, before breakfast and I also have a shower. After breakfast I just rest up and relax. Iffy (the clinical nurse specialist) is popping in at just before noon to clear me for discharge so I have a few hours to kill. I'm reluctant to start packing just yet for fear of getting ahead of myself. I spend some time chatting to Deborah. The Russian lady in F-1 is also going home today so she seems in high spirits.

     At just after 11:00am Iffy pops in and checks my surgical site. She seems happy that everything's as it should be so clears me for discharge. I'm happy but also quite sad to leave my little corner of F-Bay. I have dinner and my last painkillers before I dilate for the final time at Charing Cross.

     I start to pack and it doesn't take me too long. It's just a matter of stuffing everything back in my case. I put my normal clothes back on and it feels oddly strange. For a week I've been living in pyjamas so to actually get dressed properly is an odd experience. I do my make-up and wait for my discharge papers. At 1:30pm a nurse brings me a bag with a box of paracetamol, a box of Ibuprofen, 3 tubes of aquagel lubricant (for dilation), my discharge papers and a 12 week sick note. I'm free although it doesn't really feel like it should. I say goodbye to the Russian lady who hugs me and wishes me luck and I hug Adele too. I then pop into E-Bay and say goodbye to Sally. We all swap Facebook details and email addresses I hope we can all stay in touch because we've gone through this unique experience together. My parents aren't coming until 3:30pm so Deborah comes with me to Costa for a coffee. She also gives me a hand with my luggage.

     Walking down the ward toward the exit doors I feel sad. I can't believe that only a week ago I was sat in E-Bay waiting to have my surgery. It's a crazy experience to pack into one week and it's definitely been an overwhelming one. I've read many accounts yet none of them read like my own. Sure certain things are similar but this has been an experience, my experience.

     We sit in Costa for an hour before Adele joins us with her visitors. It's nice to have one final coffee with my birth-twins and we take a couple of photos as mementos. At 3:30pm my parents arrive. They order a taxi and stand at the front entrance as I say one final goodbye to Adele and Deborah. I'm really going to miss them it has to be said despite the fact that I've only got to know them over the past few days.

     The taxi arrives and I finally leave Charing Cross Hospital. As the taxi swings out into the afternoon traffic and drives past the hospital I begin to cry a little bit. I'm sorry to be leaving this place, this place that helped me to complete my transition. I've had a love/hate relationship with the place, it has to be said but overall I'm sad to be leaving it.

   As we weave through the London traffic, past the tall glass fronted buildings, I feel like achild again with my whole future spread out in front of me. It's scary but also wondrous at the same time. It doesn't occur to me that a week ago I was in theater and Mr Bellringer was working his miracles.

     We arrive at the station a couple of hours before our train and so head to the nearest coffee shop. As we walk I suddenly burst into tears. My mum asks me what's wrong to which I have no answer. I don't know why I'm crying. I think the emotion of the past week is partly to blame.

     We board the train at 6:15pm and settle down into our pre-booked first class seats. As the train heads out of London I reflect on what has been an immense experience. It's been something which no one can take away from me and each part of it has improved me as a person. I hated it in the first few days after surgery. I can remember feeling so lonely and so out of place. The second half of the week was entirely different once I started to get to know the other girls on the ward. I also had purpose in that second week which proved to be a very valuable thing.

     I get home at 9:30pm and I feel so tired. I have a snack and a coffee before heading to my room. I have to do my evening dilation and it feels more uncomfortable than it did in the hospital. I manage to get through it though and I settle down to sleep. I'm home.

to be continued.......

My GRS Experience - Day 7

Day 7: Sunday 31st March 2013
     I wake up after yet another poor nights sleep. My back is coated in the usual sweat and the soreness is as it's been on every morning I've spent here. I wait for breakfast and the drugs round before dilating. I'm still getting to grips with dilation in particularly the uncomfortable nature of it. The mess is an unpleasant thing too. As I push the dilator in any excess lubricant gets pushed off and drips down into the crease of my bum. I'm also experiencing a lot of discharge which isn't very pleasant at all.

     After my morning dilation I wash up and douche. Douching involves cleaning out my vagina. I have a douche, which is a rubber balloon with a tube coming out of it. The tube has a number of small openings at the top and screws off the rubber balloon. Basically I fill the rubber balloon with warm water, screw the tube back on, before inserting it into my vagina. I then have to squeeze the balloon which pushes the water up into my vagina flushing it out. I have to do this after every dilation because my new vagina, aside from not being self lubricating, isn't self cleaning.

     After my morning battle with the dilators I do my make-up before catching up with my notes for my GRS diary. The orderly brings us all a cup of coffee and some biscuits. The Russian lady in F-1 jokingly asks for some carrot cake which makes us all laugh. At 11:00am Deborah pops her head round the curtain and mentions that she's popping to the chapel to light a candle. With everything happening I'd almost forgotten that today is Easter Sunday. I'm not religious by any stretch of the imagination but it seems a nice thing to do so I go along with her. Adele comes too. As we walk past E-Bay we pop in to see Vera, the elderly lady who I briefly met on my first day here. She's sat out of bed and seems very frail. It's hard not to feel sorry for her, in here on her own.

     The chapel is only a couple of minutes walk down the corridor. It's a nice building with lots of stained glass. As we stand there and light candles one of the volunteers comes over. He's a short, elderly man called Fred and he starts chatting to us. We mention that we've come from the Marjorie Warren ward and he instantly realises that we're transexual. We spend a couple of minutes talking to Fred who isn't fazed by our trans status. He assures us that God loves everyone and that elements of the catholic church are wrong if they believe trans people will go to hell. It's actually quite nice to spend time in the Chapel and I light three candles. The first one I light for my Grandad, the second one for my Aunty Janet and the third for my niece Ruby. I shed a couple of tears as I remember them.

     After the Chapel we head to Costa for a drink. I get myself a Caramel Latte and I buy the Russian lady a piece of carrot cake. It's nice in Costa as its a piece of society. On the ward it's easy to become split off from the world. You see the same people, doing the same things and that becomes your world fairly quickly. Going to Costa, even just for half an hour, has become very important and I wish I'd come this way sooner in the week.

     We head back to the ward, have dinner and painkillers, before I get a text from my mum telling me that they're in Costa. I head back there and spend a nice afternoon with my parents. Hopefully I'll be going home tomorrow and it's a thought which has started to scare me. I want to go home but here I'm safe. If I have any problems then a nurse is only a buzzer away. I'm also growing fond of my birth twins and Sally and I'm not looking forward to leaving them. It may be different if we were all leaving hospital on the same day but I'm leaving a day sooner than they are.

     The evening is quiet as we all relax and do our own thing. I'm having my catheter out at midnight and I try and take my mind of it. I do a bit of reading then I do some puzzles then I close my eyes in an attempt at sleep. I can't sleep though because of the uncertainty of having this pipe pulled out of my urethra. It's got to hurt hasn't it?

     The lights go out at 10:30pm and I do my final dilation of the day. I've left it later than last night because I figured it'd give me something to do as I waited for midnight. At 11:55pm Joanna pops her head around the curtain and says that it's time. She inserts a syringe into the side of the catheter which lets down a balloon. It's this balloon which keeps the catheter in I believe. She tugs, I get a strange feeling where I can feel myself wee then it's out. It didn't hurt at all which surprises me. It's a strange feeling to lose the catheter bag. All week it's been a constant companion strapped to my leg. Now its gone I feel a strange sense as though I'm missing something.

     Now the catheters out I need to wee before they'll clear me for discharge. There's a chance that the urethra will close up so it can be a bit touch and go. My parents smuggled me in a small bottle of rosé a couple of days ago so I drink it now under the belief that it'll make me want to have a wee. I'm not wrong and at 00:55am I have my first girl wee. Because the urethra is still healing it sprays a bit and doesn't go straight. That doesn't matter though because it means that I can go home. I stride down to the nurses station and say proudly, 'I've just had a wee!'. The nurse smiles and reiterates that I should be discharged tomorrow.

     I get back into bed and slowly drift off to sleep picturing home in my minds eye. I'm happy to be going home, despite the fears I have.