My SRS

Looking out at the sea, contemplating the future

After a lifetime of waiting and a few false starts, I arrived in Chonburi, Thailand, for sex reassignment surgery and a first round of facial feminization surgery.

This picture was taken just before the consultation with Dr. Suporn. I still had a way to go in transitioning to the right gender role, but at this point, I was optimistic. SRS, also known as "Confirmation Surgery," is one of the most important times in a TS woman's life. And it was right around the corner.

A new life, post-op, where the mind and body no longer disagree, would start tomorrow. True, I still had facial surgeries, more hormone treatments, legal issues, and social acceptance to overcome.

But there there would be no going back from this point.

***

My Journal of this most important event:

Journal entry--8 - 10 October 2001

I left for the airport at 2:00PM on Monday, 8 October, after telling the tenants where I was going and reminding them that the grape vines will likely be ready for harvesting before I get back, so have at it.

Of the three kids who live in my house, the eldest (8 years old) asked me where I was going. "I'm going to Thailand," I said gleefully.

He said, "Be sure to bring us back something." Yeah, yeah, the kids always want souvenirs whenever I go overseas.

The itinerary consisted of a taxi from Essex County to Boston, then flights to New York, then Frankfurt, then Singapore, then Bangkok, and then a taxi to Chonburi.

Security was extremely tight at Boston Logan, since this was less than a month after the WTC tragedy, and two of the hijacked planes came from this airport.

I arrived at the hospital at 2:00 PM on Wednesday, 10 October, dog tired, but had to have all kinds of medical tests done as well as x-rays done just as soon as I arrived.

I was then led to my private room at the Aikchol Hospital, room 905. It overlooks the water.

I was able to take a few mugshots of my face for pre-FFS photos before I started having a flurry of visitors from the hospital. Finally, Dr. Suporn arrived, along with his wife, Aoi, and a nurse. I had previously been accepted for SRS by their clinical psychiatrist, Dr, Fiona Kim, but since Suporn will do the surgery, I was interviewed by him. The purpose, of course, was to ascertain whether I really was a transsexual, as that is a requirement. Since I seem to fit the profile of your "average" trannie, the interview went well.

He also needed to see my genitals--there was some concern over my previous orchiectomy (he does not like his SRS patients to have them, but if you do have one, well, you can't undo it, so&ldots;). He looked at the castration scar, which was in the middle of the scrotum, meaning that it is OK. He would operate on me.

Afterwards, he discussed his SRS technique, with which I was already familiar and was one reason why I chose him, and then on to the FFS procedures.

The rhinoplasty discussion was easy--he took several photos of my face at different angles, and then showed me what my nose looked like now. We then had fun drawing up how I wanted it to look like. He then put the "after" drawing in his folder and we went to the jaw and chin x-rays.

The jaw could be reduced by a certain amount, and he showed me just how much could be done without getting near the soft tissues and nerves. The lines that he drew on the x-rays were actually further of a reduction than I had originally thought, which was good. I had plenty of bone that was not needed and was just sitting there making me look masculine.

The chin was next. I had always had a fairly big chin, and the right side of it was very much larger than my left. This gave me a very asymmetrical look. It also gave me a left profile that was somewhat feminine, but a right profile that was rather unpleasant. Even as a young person, I had frequently looked in the mirror and just imagined that I could remove the excess bone on the right side of my chin--yes--cut off that part right there--I could see the line where the bone needed to be cut.

I had had that fantasy for decades, when finally, he put up the x-ray of my chin and we drew those very lines for cutting the chin bone away like I had always imagined, but never seriously thought possible. That was an unreal experience. He also outlined where the sides would be reshaped to get rid of a square chin and thus make it more feminine.

He also discussed where the incisions would be made. There would be two small ones on the face, but most work would be though the mouth, after the lip is separated from the chin. The tracheal shave would also require an incision, and he could get most, but not all of the lump out.

Last but not least, Aoi explained (just to make sure that I understand the ramifications of SRS, I suppose) that my penis would be cut off. What kind words--I had been waiting to hear that for decades!

Surgery would begin at 8:00 AM and prep would begin at 6:00 AM. The entire op would last about ten hours.

The anesthetist visited me briefly to discuss her part in the surgery, and I was then left alone to rest. I went to bed and was awoken right at midnight by a nurse who reminded me that I am not allowed to eat or drink from then until the operation, and she put a sign on my bed stating that fact.

I had short dreams. Some were that the op was over, others that it was not over. I longed then for the word, while I was awake and not dreaming, that yes, it was over.

Journal entry--11 October, 2001 (the day of the op).

I awoke myself at 5:30 AM, just before the prep was to begin. I had more tests done, then had my genitals shaved by a nurse. I was just wondering what she thought, as she was shaving the hairs off of a eunuch that was about to lose her weenie as well. Did I seem like an odd person to her? Afterwards, I had the enema. You always get one just before SRS. I had never had one before, but imagined that it must be even worse to give one than to receive one.

I then quickly took a shower--the last one for some time. I then dressed in the clothes that I would get used to wearing for the next eight days--the pink hospital gown (which tied at the front instead of the back) and long pink hospital skirt that must have been size 30.

Several folks came in and I was wheeled to the operating room. I smiled broadly all the way.

In the OR, I chatted with the folks there as they hooked me up to the IV and put heavy bandages over my legs. "The doctor likes it cold in here," said one nurse, "because he works under the hot lights; these will keep you warm."

Wannee, an OR nurse, said that she would come visit me every day, and got me to be prepared to say "sawasdi-kaa," meaning "good morning" as said by a female (males say "sawasdi-krap").

I said that when Dr, Suporn arrived, and that seemed to please everyone. Suporn then drew some lines on my face as I sat up. I laid back down, someone changed a switch on my IV, and the next thing I heard was:

"Kelly, wake up. The operation is over." These were the words that I so longed to hear.

I was awake enough to at least say something hoarsely, which was good enough. I went back to sleep and awoke again in my room with several nurses around me. I knew that I was in my room because I vaguely recognized a picture on the wall. I was far from in touch with reality, though, and did not like the noise or the attention that I was getting. I did however, have a strong urge to pee, but felt that I could not. I was certain that my bladder was blocked and that I was about to explode. I tried to say something but found that I could not talk--not even whisper, so I signaled for a pen and paper. I explained my rather drastic problem but was assured that urine was indeed flowing into the bag.

"Just go away," I wanted to say. The nurses were there on my account, but I was quite a b*tch after being under the knife for what turned out to be 11 hours. I was just plain rude.

I tried to pull the towel that was being used as a blanket over my head and bury my face in the pillow and thus avoid all of the noise and attention, but Minda told me that I cannot rest on my nose because I may deviate it so soon after the rhinoplasty.

Eventually, they were able to settle me down. Minda slept in my room on the sofa. This was good, because sometimes the IV unit would beep. I laid there helplessly as Minda pushed some buttons and optimized whatever it was that needed it.

Numb and almost out of touch with reality

I nonetheless understood that I had finally awoken anatomically correct for the first time, after dreaming, wishing, and planning a lifetime for this moment.

Minda, who slept in my room for two nights, is on the left. She was a real lifesaver during the difficult first few days.

I could barely see; I could hardly eat; I could not speak at all. Be forewarned that healing from SRS and facial surgeries is not quite a picnic. But the end results are so well worth it.

Journal entry--12 October, 2001 (day one post-op)

Early in the morning, before I got up, a nurse walked in to drop off the daily newspaper. I rolled over and opened an eye to see this. She crept near, in the fairly dark room, just far enough to toss the paper onto the bedstand. She stayed as far away as possible, and had quite a frightened look on her face. She then turned around, not looking back and ran out of the room. This was not a good sign. Was I really such a monster now that people would be deathly afraid to get near me?

When I awoke, my face was terribly swollen, even though it was heavily bandaged up. My lower lip was especially bad. I imagined that it was severely scarred and ugly. I felt my nose just a bit (I was actually afraid to touch it at the time) and believed the worst for that too. I somehow imagined that I would end up looking like Michael Jackson, and would have to live like that from then on. I felt so bad that I did not previously tell Suporn that I did not want to look like Michael Jackson, and felt that it was too late. I must now get on with my wretched rest of my life.

Minda awoke and tried to get me to eat breakfast. I could not speak, so I wrote notes. I was not hungry, and for that matter, could not open my mouth. When I tried, my teeth hurt. This lead me to believe that Suporn did indeed cut the jaw too deep and exposed the nerves of my teeth, meaning that I would have massive toothaches all day every day from then on. D*mn it!

During Dr. Suporn's daily visit, I was hardly making sense when I wrote and gesticulated, but he did say that all of my procedures went extremely well, with no problems.

I spent the rest of the day ringing for nurses to turn the thermostat up, bring me pain medication, and refusing all attempts at getting me to eat. The only accomplishments of the day were for me to keep my journal and the remote control in my bed. However, I never did turn the TV on.

I went to bed just as grumpy as ever, with Minda again sleeping on the couch.

Journal entry--13 October, 2001 (day two post-op)

I still could not speak. When I awoke, I was still extremely paranoid that my chin and jaw operations were dismal failures and that they were not healing. I imagined that the lower lip and adjacent areas would turn gangrenous and that I would have to have much of my face removed. I panicked.

When Dr. Suporn came in for his daily visit, he removed the old dressing and put on a less constrictive one. I, frightened nearly to death, wrote a note with my deep concern for the facial surgery. He assured me that I was healing properly. He also reminded me that I could not get out of bed for five days, and that this was day two. Three more days would be an eternity.

Minda was able to get me to have a few sips of water, and then managed to talk me into slurping a bit of soup (which was not easy!). I found that she tolerated me rather well considering my awful disposition. But, I found that most folks are just as grumpy for the first two days.

During that day, I had a visit from a patient who came just for FFS and was about to head off, as well as a patient that recently had SRS and was finally able to get out of bed and walk around (but had to carry around the catheter and urine bag). She would look me up when I got to Pattaya.

I tried to sleep, but nurses came in every few minutes (or so it seemed) to bother me. And my rear end was in great pain from laying on it constantly. I was so glad when the day was over.

Continued in Part 2

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My SRS Part 2