June 3rd, 2013


Week 81 - The best Banana Split EVER

So... I had the surgery.

All this time, all this pain, all this annoyance, EVERYTHING running up to "Sure, let's get a surgery date / Next week / Okay, we're gonna put you under now / Time to go home!" INSANITY. I feel as though everything happened before I could emotionally digest it. Still doesn't quite feel real. I think that once all the swelling goes down and the bruises heal, I wouldn't actually be surprised to find th' beans still where they've always lived. I mean, that'd be catastrophic, but after the series of setbacks and disappointments, I'd be ready for it.

Fukkin' Lawsy, though, this pain. I don't know why I presumed that I'd be dancing around immediately after surgery, but I'm surprised at how rough it's been. And not just "kicked-in-the-balls" pain, like I presumed it would be. All KINDS of pains. Pinching, itching, aching, warm tugging soreness, bright sharp stabs. I imagine it's just all the layers all interacting differently to their particular traumas. There's a lot you need to cut through to remove sex organs from people, and the body's prepared to give ALL KINDS of feedback if you're creepin' in on that territory. Curiously (and pleasantly) enough... the one pain I'm NOT experiencing? Kicked-in-the-balls pain. That old gut-achey testicular pain is NOWHERE to be found. Its conspicuous absence is heartening.

The "Need to not think too much about sex-stuff" thing is annoying. Felt myself start to get a little aroused yesterday and it felt like a large "pain dial" being slowly ratcheted up. Reckoned I'd switch gears before I saw how THAT turned out.

Got my social security card for the new name! Ordinarily, that'd be huge news, but in light of recent events, it's one facet of a larger production goin' on. <=) Still. Wonderful progress. Now to change my name EVERYWHERE. It's been impressive how easy it's been! I guess banks and whatnots know ya as a number mostly, these days. Anyway, slowly but surely. I feel a little silly to have co-workers and friends say "Travis" or whatever then correct themselves. Like, I APPRECIATE it, but I'm not dysphoric about "Travis"... I feel silly puttin' folks through the anxiety and inconvenience of worryin'. Ah, well. Maybe this low-stress exercise will better prepare them for interacting with a transkid who takes that shit a lot more seriously. Who knows.

My parents called during my convalescence. Wasn't expecting them to, and I wasn't gonna call them, especially after that "big mistake" shit they dropped last time they talked. But they were sweet and they're showing that they love me and are trying to work through their hatred and ignorance even while fastidiously clinging to it. I'm sure it's a rough spiritual battle for them to fight, but at least they're fighting it, which is something.

Shoulda spread this entry out across a couple of entries. Not gonna be a whole lotta weeks that are this interesting, I fear. <=)

  • Current Music
    Old 97s - King of All of the World