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Connections, by Karin Bishop

Part 9

Chapter 25: New Me—For Better or Worse

We stopped at the pharmacy on the way; Dr. Stevenson had prescribed some mild pain pills. Once we were home, I was able to walk by myself without running into things, but I just wanted to sleep. Marilyn gave me a pill and a glass of water, then helped me undress into a nightie, turned down the bed, and I rolled in. The last conscious thought I had was ...what the hell was I thinking, cheerfully approving a barium enema?

Actually, it was more than that; once the scans were authorized, there was an IV added to the enema, and something else was injected. And I did get my ‘massive shot’ somewhere along the line. Add ‘em all up, and Marilyn was right; I felt crummy. And fuzzy and woozy and other dwarves Snow White didn’t talk about …

It was nearly ten in the morning when I woke up. I still felt a bit fuzzy, so I lay in bed, gathering my thoughts. There was a general tenderness in my lower abdomen and groin, and my hip was sore from the shot. As I lay there taking stock, I thought about that shot, and my hands crept up to my chest and gently massaged my nipples. ‘How long?’ I wondered. I wanted my breasts to start really developing; I knew that every girl was impatient, but I’d been stuck in this underdeveloped, ambiguous body for so long. That made me chuckle; what made me think I was any different than a pubescent girl, who probably felt ‘stuck’ the same way? Except that she had been able to live as a girl and I hadn’t been able to. Well, I was, now.

I gingerly got out of bed; keeping my legs together helped. Marilyn had left a note on my nightstand that said I could sleep as long as I wanted, call her when I was up, and there was a pain pill next to a glass of water. I took it because things did hurt; I only hoped the fuzziness was the last of yesterday’s sedative. I didn’t like feeling this stupid.

Or bloated, something that I relieved in the bathroom. Really unpleasant, but it was nice to know the last of the gunk was out of me. I washed up and stared at the slightly-bleary girl in the mirror. Well, they had their scans, I had my shot, and it was time to move forward, get on with things.

Still moving slowly and carefully—it would be some time before I trusted myself not to get dizzy—I pulled on fresh white panties, a denim skirt and a spaghetti-strap camisole. I brushed my hair and decided to go for a high ponytail with a scrunchie, added my jewelry—all this was becoming automatic—and went in search of Marilyn.

I ran into Carol first.

“How’re you feeling, Melanie?” She really did seem to care; it was in her voice.

“Like I’ve been riding a camel for a week. And like the camel then stepped on my brain afterward,” I said with a weak grin.

“Up for a hug?” she asked.

“Sure, but imagine you’re hugging your hundred-year-old granny.”

She hugged me, then playfully—but gently—patted me on the back. “There, there, Grandma; you don’t look a day over ninety!”

“So comforting,” I said, then added, “Dearie!” in a little-old-lady voice.

Carol laughed. “Hungry? I was just gonna do lunch.”

“Starving. I’m, uh, pretty empty.”

“If you don’t mind my asking, what exactly did they do? Mom only said that it was unexpected and to ask you.”

“They did some more scans. Something was wrong with …I don’t know if you knew this, but I had an MRI; your mom wanted it. And—”

“Wait; Mom requested you have an MRI?”

“Yes.”

“Why her? I mean …” She frowned.

I realized her question. “Oh! You didn’t know this, I guess. Your mom has parental authority for me. She can sign medical forms on my behalf. Or my mother’s behalf, actually.”

“I didn’t know that,” she said. “Okay, so she ordered the—hey! If she can sign just like your mom, that makes us even more like sisters!”

The only possibly response was a hug, of course! Accompanied by an ‘aw!’ and I loved Carol so much; I loved her openness and willingness to bond with me.

After the hug, she said, “So …scans?”

“Yep. CT and ultrasound. The CT needed a barium enema, though.”

She recoiled, making a face. “Ick!”

“Tell me about it!” I chuckled.

“You poor girl! So what was this MRI thing?”

“Oh. Probably some problem with the machine, or they screwed up the scan. Wanted to get some more scans rather than re-do the MRI, I guess.”

“Wanted to cover their asses,” she nodded. “Or they wanted more money from your insurance company!”

We both chuckled at that. There was a knock at the door; I called ‘it’s open!’ and Marilyn came in.

She must have heard Carol. “It’s entirely possible that they do want insurance money,” she chuckled. Then she looked me in the eyes and knew that I was relatively sober, and said, “But I think there’s more to it.”

“Oh, God!” Carol said with worry, looking back and forth between us. “Some sort of problem with her?”

“Maybe not a problem,” Marilyn said enigmatically, but said nothing else as I studied her.

The word ‘anomalies’ floated into my mind. I’d thought Dr. Stevenson had meant anomalies with the scan, with the machine …but had he meant anomalies with me?

Carol said, “But she’s okay, right?”

I was deeply touched that she was so worried about me. Marilyn looked touched, too, and reached out a hand to gently stroke Carol’s hair. “I’m sure she’s more than okay, sweetheart. Not to worry. She’s a healthy, happy girl. Dr. Stevenson said so!”

“Spelled with a ‘Y’,” I grinned.

Carol didn’t get it but let it go as just another of those things that were between her mother and me.

“Hungry?” Marilyn asked. “You must be famished.”

“Yes, I am; Carol just asked, too.”

On the way to the kitchen, Carol said, “Hey, Mom, I asked her how she felt and you know what she said?” and she related my line about the camel. We were chuckling as we sat down—I sat quite slowly and gingerly—and Marilyn whipped up omelets, toast with marmalade, a melon and juice. I was full and happy in twenty minutes.

I was a lazy bum; I watched a DVD of Princess Diaries 2 on their gigantic 60” television. Carol joined me for a time and left to call Eric. I was in heaven …and then I wasn’t.

The movie was almost over and my lower tummy began cramping up. I thought I’d eaten too much, but it was lower than my stomach. Then I thought maybe the melon was bad, but we’d all had some. Or maybe I hadn’t gotten all of the gunk out of my system. Then I thought …oh, no; it couldn’t be the enema, or, I hoped not—the injection … Please, God! No complications!

I had my arms wrapped around me and was sitting absolutely still, my legs stiff and straight in front of me on the ottoman. Carol came back in the room, obviously excited by her talk with Eric. She plopped on the couch and I stifled a groan with a growl.

“Geez, Carol, do you have to bounce?”

She was startled and said, “Sor-ree …” and made an exaggerated show of sitting quietly.

“Stop screwing around,” I snarled, as a tiny voice in my head yelled ‘bitch!’ at myself. “Don’t be so …goddamn perfect.”

“Perfect?” It wasn’t the word she’d been expecting.

“Perfect,” I agreed, nastily. “Perfect face, perfect body, perfect boobs, perfect life, perfect—ungh!” I doubled over in pain.

“Oh, God,” Carol cried. “You’re not being mean, you hurt! Mom!” she yelled, got up and ran for her mother.

Marilyn and Carol came running in; I’d dropped to my side and pulled my legs up and was taking shallow breaths. The pain was between my hips; they felt like they were being crushed and exploded at the same time.

Marilyn asked me several questions about the pain, then told Carol to bring the heated comforter from the other room. They gently wrapped me up in it, and I felt a bit better, better enough to be upset with myself.

“God, Carol, I’m sorry I yelled at you,” I began, and winced.

“That’s okay,” she gave me a worried smile. “Anybody could see you were in pain.”

“She yelled at you?” Marilyn asked Carol.

“Yeah, it was terrible,” Carol said, and I wilted with shame. Then she said, “She claimed that I had perfect boobs! Can you imagine the nerve of that girl?”

Marilyn suppressed a laugh and said, with as straight a face as she could, “Oh, I’m sure she didn’t mean it; it was just the medication talking.”

Carol took a moment to realize her mother was kidding, then she got serious. “Does Melanie have to go to the hospital, Mom? I can get her stuff ready.”

“Thank you, dear, but unless her temp—damn! Carol, get the digital thermometer from my medicine chest, please.”

While she was on the errand, Marilyn comforted me. “Oh, my poor girl; I just wish I could take your pain away from you. Relax and breathe easily, honey …thanks, Carol,” she said as she put the thermometer in my ear.

“Ninety-nine. Not good, but not bad. We’ll check her temp every fifteen minutes and if she starts to spike, well …Tell you what. Throw the most comfy things you can find, sweats, whatever, in her dance bag. We’ll keep it ready just in case. Please stay with her right now, though; I’ll call the doctor and you can do the bag when I come back.”

“Mom …is she going to be alright? I mean, she told me the doctor told you guys what to expect, right?” Her hand flew to her mouth. “Oh, God; this isn’t expected, is it?”

Marilyn started to say something, probably to spare my feelings, but she told the truth. “No, honey; this isn’t what was expected. I have my suspicions …”

“What, Mom? What?”

“Internal …organs?” I squeezed out between spasms.

“Yes, Melanie, my …precious one.”

I could feel her look at Carol; I was afraid it would cause some resentment. “Carol, in case …you mis …understood, your Mom means you …you’re the …precious one.” God, it hurt too much to talk in a single sentence!

Carol’s voice choked with her tears. “No, Melanie; you’re the precious one. I’m the one with the perfect boobs!” She was teasing and trying to make me feel better.

Unfortunately, I chuckled and let out an ‘argh!’ type of sound and Carol squealed, “Omigod! Sorry!”

Marilyn and Carol switched places and I heard Marilyn’s footsteps hurrying away.

“Sorry, I …snapped at you …” I managed.

“Hush, hush. You call that snapping? I’ve had worse PMS! Oh, God, don’t laugh! I’m sorry!” She stroked my forehead. “You didn’t hurt my feelings, Mel, you’re going to be fine and we’ll laugh at this later and nobody will be hurting and please be okay, Mel, okay? You’re my new sister and we’ve got so much to do!”

She was openly crying now. I took one hand from my abdomen and reached up for her hand and held it, squeezing it but not hard enough to hurt.

“You call me ‘Mel’; I …like that …” I gasped. “You were the first to …call me that. I like it.” I took three quick breaths. “So …good news from Eric?”

She’d been bouncing in after her phone call, but now she said, “Never mind that!”

I waved our two hands, pulling her toward me as another spasm kicked in. “Ungh! …Yes …mind that. Please …I need to stop thinking about this, so …Eric?”

Her voice broke. “He’s got a friend, a guy on his team who’s also an honor student. And he wanted to know if we wanted to double Friday. But …oh, God …”

“Double-date? But I’m only thirteen, damn …damn it,” I gasped.

“This guy is a sophomore, so he’s only fifteen, but real mature and—” She interrupted herself to actually laugh. “Girl, you’re going to have a hard time finding a guy that can keep up with you! They’re going to have to be older and darned smart!”

In my agony, I thought instantly of Matt Haines, who was way too old for me …but we’d connected, right? But an actual date, with a boy who didn’t know about Michael, and my sister there to help me out—wait a minute, I had just automatically thought of her as my sister! I tried to tell her.

“Carol …I was thinking about what you said …” I managed to get out. “And I thought ‘and my sister will be there to …help me on the date’ …isn’t that cool? I auto …automatically thought of you …as my sister!” My eyes were squeezed shut; it was all I could do to keep from screaming.

From a distance, I heard Carol’s voice, breaking with tears, say, “Oh, Melanie, I’m so happy you’re my sister!”

The pain escalated and I think I screamed a little. I fought against being swallowed up by the pain by holding onto the fantastic feeling of Carol wanting me as a sister, as a girl …

And a deep voice, like a Narrator or even God, asked slowly, “Do you want to be a boy or a girl?”

I knew I shouldn’t fool around if it was God, but I said, “That’s a silly question. I am a girl!”

It was nice to be able to speak in complete sentences in my head; it hurt so much when I was talking with Carol.

The deep voice asked, “Do you want to become a girl?”

I kind of snapped and said, “I am a girl, I told you; but I can’t become a girl 100% until that penis is removed. Five years from now.”

“Do you want your penis removed?”

“Yes, silly! I’d prefer it was removed before I was born, but as soon as I can get it off me, I can get on with my life as a girl!”

It was surprising how the deep voice in my head seemed to have trouble grasping this simple concept; I wondered if it was ‘the Michael’ in me trying to sound like a grown-up man. Well, the poor guy didn’t stand a chance; I wasn’t going to let anything stop me becoming Melanie for the rest of my life—but this pain was crazy …

“Melanie, honey?” Marilyn’s voice said soothingly. “Are you hearing me?”

“Of course, Aunt Marilyn,” I said, and I realized the pain was gone. I still felt fuzzy, but I found that I felt well enough to open my eyes …

And instead of the living room where I was watching TV, I was in a hospital bed …

“Oh, God!” I started to sit up, groaned, winced and lay where I was, slamming my eyes closed. “How long? What’s happened? I’m so sorry!”

“Omigod, she’s incredible!” Carol’s voice came from somewhere in the room. “Mom, I promised to be quiet; I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, Carol,” I reassured her, my eyes still closed. I ran my tongue over my lips. “Dry. Been awhile. So …ungh!” The ‘ungh’ was from a twinge in my groin. “Aunt Marilyn, would it be okay if I were to go on a double-date with my sister this Friday? Please?”

The blackness swallowed me and I never heard her answer.

Chapter 26: Firecracker

“Here, honey, it’s a straw,” Marilyn’s voice told me, and I felt it resting on my lower lip and began sucking cool, soothing, wonderful water.

“Oh, God; thank you, thank you,” I gasped after letting go of the straw. “My throat’s so sore …oh …intubation?”

“You’re too smart by half,” Marilyn’s voice had a laugh. “Knowing something like that.”

Carol’s voice was light and teasing. “God, Mom, everybody knows ‘intubation’. After ER, Grey’s Anatomy, you know.”

“Melanie? What do you remember, honey?” Marilyn asked. “Wait a second; relax and keep your eyes closed. I’ll get the doctors; they’ll want to hear this. But keep your eyes closed.”

There was a general bustling and the sense of a door opening and closing several times. In my darkness, I called out, “Carol? You still here?”

“Sure am, Mel,” she said, and I could hear the grin in her voice.

“Will I mess up the date?”

“What do you mean?” There was something odd in her voice.

“Am I going to be in here too long and miss the date on Friday?”

A male voice entered the room. “Good to see you awake, Melanie. What date?”

Marilyn’s voice took control. “Melanie, please stay relaxed, eyes closed, call for water if you want, and tell us when you’re too tired, okay?”

“Yes, ma’am,” I said.

“Always so polite!” Marilyn chuckled. “Okay, take your time, but tell us what happened after we all ate on Saturday afternoon.”

“So it’s not Saturday anymore, huh?” I figured out. “Lost a day. Um …I was watching Princess Diaries 2, fun but not quite as good as the first …it was almost over and Carol came in to tell me about her phone call with Eric, and I …I’m so sorry …I was a bitch to Carol. Carol, I’m sorry; I didn’t mean it,” I called out.

From somewhere in the room Carol’s voice said, “I know, Mel; don’t worry about it. We’re cool.”

“Thanks …” I lay there thinking, what next? “Oh, she was talking about maybe a double-date with a guy Eric knows this Friday—I mean a double-date this Friday with a guy Eric knows …”

“Forget the grammar, silly!” Carol burst out with a nervous giggle.

“Carol! Please!” Marilyn snapped.

“It’s okay, Aunt Marilyn …” I said, feeling a little woozy. “Um …I’m feeling pretty stoned right now, not that I’ve ever been stoned …” I half-giggled.

“We’ll come back later,” the male voice said and there was some bustling.

“No, no, no!” I called out. “You’re here now, so …Um, so the pain hit me hard, like I got hit with a baseball bat …below my navel, off to one side and right above my pubic bone.”

“Thank you, Melanie,” the male voice said.

“Is that Dr. Stevenson?” I asked.

“Yes, it is,” he answered.

“Wow. Hi. Um …you know, the pain felt like being squeezed—like things inside of me were being squeezed—and also like exploding.” I thought for a moment. “I’ve never done this, either, but …it was like if you lit a firecracker and squeezed it so tight in your hand that your hand turned red and white and your nails dug into your skin and then the firecracker explodes and your hand blows open …and probably blows fingers off, too …”

“Omigod,” gasped my mother’s voice.

“Mom?” I started to open my eyes and automatically sit up, but the ache in my groin flared and I winced and groaned.

Cool professional hands rushed to me and I was eased into place as Dr. Stevenson said, “Please, Melanie, try to remain still, eyes closed, relaxed, and not move. Only speak if you wish, alright?”

“Yes, doctor.” I winced and licked my lips. “Water?”

When I was done sipping and the straw was removed, I tried a game for myself. Who was in the room, and how many? Marilyn, Carol, Mom, Dr. Stevenson, for sure …I felt a couple of others, observing. I remembered Carol’s story about guessing the sex of campers in tents. It would be fun to open my eyes at the end and see how accurate my guesses were.

“Okay …I’m better, thanks,” I said. “So I was on the couch, doubled over, grabbing Carol’s hand. I think I might have …screamed a little bit; I tried not to. Sorry if I did. I think my aunt came running back in—now I guess she’s been calling the hospital. Carol called me her sister and I loved that so much that I thought about how important it is to me, and some deep Narrator-type Voice of God asked if I really wanted to be a girl and I was kind of flippant to him and omigod that was you, Dr. Stevenson, wasn’t it?”

There was an embarrassed chuckle. “Yes it was, Melanie. But I’ve never been called the Voice of God before.”

“I thought I was dreaming—actually, I thought it was the last little bit of Michael in me trying to sound like a great big grown-up man.”

I heard “Interesting way of putting it,” softly said by Dr. Thompson to somebody. Aha! I thought! Add another to my game of Folks In The Room.

“Then my aunt asked if I could hear her, and I tried to open my eyes and sit up—that was a mistake!—and I’m in a hospital. But you’re all clustered around me like the ending of The Wizard of Oz and I figure there was something like an appendectomy or ruptured something-or-other and it’s Monday night and I’m obviously alive and there’s no place like home!”

“She’s always been like that,” Mom’s voice apologized to the room. “Everything’s a movie reference.”

I was warmed that Mom had so easily called me ‘she’. There was some progress!

“And TV knowledge,” Marilyn said. “You know; ER, Grey’s Anatomy …”

“Mother!” Carol said, outraged that her Mom had used what Carol had said.

Marilyn’s laugh was wonderful; it meant she was more relaxed now which meant that I was not in immediate danger. She said, “Because of the medical shows she heard about ‘intubation’, but no doubt she already was familiar with the term. It’s just her own brilliant mind. And it was her own brilliant mind that saved her life.”

“How?” I asked, puzzled.

“Honey, I rushed back in the room and saw you doubled up in pain, and just before you passed out, you said, ‘internal organs’ which saved you time in ER. They didn’t go for toxicological screening for food poisoning or anything else, but got right to work.”

“Melanie, your analogy with the firecracker is striking,” Dr. Stevenson said. “I can’t imagine the pain you must have felt, and I’m sorry that you had to experience it …and I’m sorry to be the cause.”

“I don’t understand; what did you do, doctor? You just gave me a shot. Well, and a barium enema, too!” I giggled but it was more of a gurgle with a wince.

“Oh …it’s a bit more than that …”

My doctor was embarrassed?

“Um, water, please?” I felt the straw and sipped. “Thanks. Wait, wait. I’m a little freaked out here about keeping my eyes closed. Did something happen to them?”

“Oh, no,” Dr. Stevenson rushed to assure me. “Absolutely nothing wrong with your eyes. It’s just that in Recovery, patients open their eyes and start to look around, to look at people, and they move involuntarily and can cause themselves unnecessary pain.”

“It’s instinctive, reactive,” I said.

“Exactly,” Dr. Stevenson said.

“Told you she was smart!” Carol’s voice smirked to someone.

“I understand. And you wanted to get my recollections prior to my …episode …without any external stimuli disrupting the flow of recall?”

“Remarkable,” Dr. Thompson’s voice murmured.

I relaxed. “Thank you for telling me, and I will lie here like a lump in the dark, if you don’t mind; Doctor’s Orders.” I tried a chuckle. “Before we go further, though …I’m playing a game in my head about who’s in the room. Can I guess now?”

There was a bustling and, I gathered, head nods.

“You’ve all nodded and agreed,” I could hear a little gasp here and there of recognition. “So let’s see. In no particular order because I don’t want to hurt anybody’s feelings—and if I left you out it’s because you truly obeyed Dr. Stevenson’s request to be silent!—um …” I took a little breath. “Dr. Stevenson, Aunt Marilyn, my mother, my new sister Carol—” A little gasp of pleasure from her. “Dr. Thompson, one other doctor to be named later, and a nurse. There were two, now one.”

“Remarkable!” Dr. Thompson said, again. “And do you care to guess the other doctor’s specialty?”

“I’m going to go with endocrinology. Just a stab in the dark,” I joked, still blind.

“Good stab,” Marilyn chuckled.

“Also present is Dr. Gupta, an endocrinologist from UCLA,” Dr. Thompson explained. “Melanie, you’re not like any thirteen-year-old I’ve ever encountered.” She ended with a chuckle echoing Marilyn’s.

Dr. Stevenson said to the room and me, “Melanie is not like any patient any of us have encountered.” Closer now, he said, “Melanie, the shot you received, the shot I gave you in my office …do you remember what possible side effects I mentioned?”

“If any, mood swings, bitchiness, maybe hours to days after the shot. Over in a few days to a week. It’s why I was so mean to Carol.”

“You weren’t mean, Mel—oops! Sorry!” Carol apologized to the room.

“You were in pain,” Marilyn said gently. “And how you managed to converse as well as you did is beyond me. But saying ‘internal organs’ …again, I’m just amazed that you processed it, because I’ll bet you had lots more to say on the subject but could only get those two words out.”

“It was …kinda hard to talk …”

Dr. Stevenson said, “Understandable. And in keeping with your firecracker analogy, somewhat accurate. Melanie, you had received shots of androgen blockers and were just starting a maintenance dose of hormones. The shot I gave you was an estrogen-estradiol mixture that was developed to assist with uterine contractions and other conditions, but has been found to be effective in …basically bringing the endocrinological system into sync.”

“To get all of me facing in the right direction on the Yellow Brick Road?” I grinned.

“Yes, in keeping with your Oz references.” To the room, he said, “She is always like this, isn’t she?”

There was a murmur of assent.

He went on, “I thought so, but I needed to know if she’s still woozy. If she says anything really strange and you think she’s a little foggy, please speak up.”

“That’ll be the day,” Carol cracked.

I actually heard Marilyn’s tell-tale smirk, and a weak attempt to hush Carol.

Carol protested, “Aw, come on, it’s true and we all know it! She wouldn’t be foggy if she stood on the Golden Gate Bridge in October!”

General chuckles all around.

I couldn’t resist. “Was that you speakin’, Henry? Tell Clem the hogs is slopped,” I cackled like a hick.

Marilyn said, “Melanie, you’re not making this easy!” But she was laughing, too.

I settled. “Sorry, Aunt Marilyn. And, Mom, sorry if I’m embarrassing you.”

“You could never do that, honey,” Mom’s calm voice soothed me.

Dr. Stevenson cleared his throat. “You are truly one in a million, Melanie …well, you’re one in six billion, because medical literature has no case like yours on record. You remember having the MRI scan?”

“Yes. Aunt Marilyn insisted.”

“And wisely, too, because we discovered …rudimentary female organs …” His voice trailed off.

Marilyn spoke up. “You can say anything you want to, doctor, without risk of embarrassing or offending anybody here.”

To my amazement, my mother spoke up. “And while you’re on the subject of female organs, I should remind you that you’re outnumbered—more people in this room possess those than don’t.”

There were some embarrassed chuckles all around and I had to join in, too, but it hurt.

Dr. Stevenson seemed unruffled; in fact, I think I heard a smile in his voice in response to my mother’s statement. “Very well. Melanie, the MRI results were baffling, and that’s why we ordered the additional scans.”

“Um …one in six billion.”

“I’m sorry? Are you asking that for clarification about what I said earlier?” Dr. Stevenson asked.

“No; sorry. I meant, if I am one in six billion—although I find that unlikely; it’s more likely that other cases haven’t been reported—then it makes sense that you would have thought the machine was in error. If you did an MRI on every human on the planet and only one was baffling like mine, the statistical probability would indicate a machine error. Just guessing.”

There was a general amused hubbub but Dr. Stevenson was chuckling as he said, “Good guess! Yes, exactly right, Melanie. And that’s why we ordered additional scans, and of different types.”

“Because the MRI was baffling, but it wasn’t a flawed scan. What’s inside me was baffling.”

“Exactly right again! We saw what appeared to be an underdeveloped uterus, possible Fallopian tubes …it was difficult to differentiate exactly what we were seeing. To be as brief as possible, you are not a subject of Klinefelter’s Syndrome. You do possess a bit of Y chromosome that affected development, although we’re uncertain as to when and what stage that affectation occurred.”

Dr. Gupta spoke for the first time in a well-modulated voice with a touch of British accent. “You will be the subject of many conferences and discussions in the future, Miss Stanwood. With your anonymity protected, of course. But I must ask the one question I cannot find asked anywhere in your files. Discounting the injections you’ve received, as well as any prescribed medication from Dr. Stevenson or any physician, at any time have you taken any form of birth control, or hormones of any kind? Even once?”

Dr. Thompson whispered to him, “We discussed this!”

He whispered back, “I know, but I must observe convention!”

“No, doctor—doctors,” I said. “I have never knowingly taken any form of birth control pill, hormones, growth vitamins …Midol …anything. Over-the-counter, homeopathic or otherwise. Ever.”

“Midol?” Carol asked.

“Miss Stanwood is right to include it, even if to exclude it,” Dr. Gupta said. “As I was told, she is an exceptionally bright girl. Thank you, Miss Stanwood.”

“No, thank you, Dr. Gupta,” I said. “Please call me Melanie. But thank you for calling me ‘Miss Stanwood’—you’re the first to call me that, actually, and it sounds great to me! But I’m Melanie from now on for you, if you’d like.”

“‘Miss Stanwood’ sounds great to me, too, honey,” Mom added.

“So …proceeding,” Dr. Stevenson said. “Your system was not rudimentary; it was so small that the scan made it appear as such, and the placement was odd. And, of course, non-functional. But your system was in two stages. First, it was drastically …distorted. We’ve told you that what appeared as your testicles were actually ovaries—very complicated.”

“And my penis was my clitoris?” I asked. “Is my clitoris?”

“Told you she was sharp,” Marilyn cracked.

“Exactly,” Dr. Stevenson said. “There are quite a few documented cases of an enlarged clitoris being mistaken for a penis at birth, but there are usually other factors that can identify it as a birth defect and the enlargement can be corrected immediately, with the child reared as a normal girl. Occasionally it’s not until puberty that the mistake is caught. Well, it’s not a mistake …”

“Call it Nature’s Mistake, doctor,” Marilyn said. “Nobody here should be worried about liability.”

“Thank you for that,” he sounded relieved. “So …there have been cases somewhat similar, but nowhere has anybody reported a …”

“Jump-start?” I guessed.

“Why would you say that?” Dr. Stevenson asked.

“It was a term Dr. Thompson used, and I’m guessing that your estrogen-estradiol mixture …jump-started me.”

“Exactly. Jump-started, but like putting 200 volts into a 12-volt battery. Your system overloaded, and that was the agony you were feeling.”

“I passed out, Aunt Marilyn said?”

“Yes, dear,” Marilyn said. “The funny thing is …the way you were breathing—short, shallow breaths—and your arms crossed around you …and the scream when you passed out—”

“I did scream? God, I’m so sorry!”

Marilyn chuckled. “Will you stop apologizing for something you had no control over?”

“Yes, ma’am,” I said automatically.

“Oh, honey; I didn’t mean it seriously! You’re just so quick to apologize, and it’s endearing but you really don’t need to …and I don’t really need to be giving etiquette lectures at a time like this.”

“Of course not; that’s my job!” Mom piped up. “Melanie, mind your godmother. No more apologies, young lady! Carry on, doctor.”

Marilyn stepped in quickly. “I just want to finish my thought that I interrupted—when I rushed in the room, seeing and hearing Melanie, she sounded and looked like a woman giving birth. That’s all.”

There was a moment of silence. I guessed that the doctors were looking at each other.

Dr. Stevenson said, “That’s a very interesting observation, Ms. Stevens. And, in a sense, accurate as well, in a poetic way. She was giving birth to her true female self.” I could feel him turn back to me. “Melanie, the shot sent your system into overdrive and jump-started your development. In keeping with the automotive metaphors, it’s like a shot of WD-40 loosening stuck gears. It was also like …well, rehydrating a breakfast in a shrink pack on a hiking trip.”

“Sponges,” Dr. Gupta murmured.

“Even better, doctor, thanks. Like a shriveled, dry sponge getting soaked and expanding and becoming soft again.”

“So my spongy uterus got a shot of WD-40?” I half-joked.

“Not medically accurate, but in the general ballpark, yes.”

“I always wondered what the WD stands for. Now I know it’s ‘Womb Dampener’.”

The whole room exploded in laughter, completely unprepared for that. I had no idea where the thought came from, either; maybe I was stoned.

“So, where am I at, now?” I asked, trying to be serious again.

“Well, we had several discussions as to how to proceed, and got your input—”

“The Voice of God.”

“Yes, the Voice of God. That was …me,” Dr. Stevenson said a little shyly. “Although Drs. Gupta and Thompson were present as well.”

“All this in 24 hours? I’m amazed that …” I paused. “And I can tell by your collective silence it’s …not 24 hours …okay, I told you who’s in the room; the least you can tell me is when you’re in the room.”

Carol was first. “Um …it’s Saturday night, Mel.”

“Saturday Saturday night?”

“Uh-huh,” she said.

“Oh, God! Did I mess up your date with Eric? How did it go?”

There were stifled chuckles in the room.

Carol said, “It was pretty good. I wish you could have been there, of course; it was Eric and me and I wasn’t very much company because we’ve been so worried about you and the operations and—”

“Hold it!” I interrupted. “That’s a detail none of the grown-ups thought to mention. Operations, plural?”

“Don’t be sassy, young lady,” Mom corrected me.

“Sorry, Mom. Oh, can I say ‘sorry’ here?”

“It’s acceptable, dear. And, yes, a lot has been happening this past week—this …lost week of yours.”

Dr. Stevenson said, “I almost don’t want to begin talking about this now, because you’re tired. But if you promise to hold all questions, I’ll briefly tell you about your … ‘lost week’. But more explanation, details—and your questions must wait until you’re more rested, okay? Do you agree, Melanie?”

“It’s going to drive me crazy not to ask, but, yes; I agree. I’ve got to know now, you understand?”

“Yes, I do. And the original ground rule applies—at any time if you’re too tired to go on, please let me know.”

“Okay, but before you get started, can I say one thing?”

“Certainly.”

“I’m playing fair and not opening my eyes, so don’t think me rude, everybody. Everybody—thank you. For whatever you’ve done, and things I don’t even know about that you’ve done, and things you don’t even know that you’ve done for me—thank you. Okay?”

There was a general chorus of ‘You’re welcome’ or ‘It was nothing’ and such.

I went on. “And to three great doctors, thank you and I hope I didn’t complicate your lives too much. Mom, that’s not the same as I’m sorry!” I said quickly, to head her off.

“I know, dear,” her sweet voice said.

“And to three very, very special ladies, I want to say that I love you very much and only hope I can make you proud. Now, doctor, before anybody gets all teary, tell me. So I passed out ...”

“Yes, and your godmother broke all speed records and probably several laws getting you here, but she did so in time. You were hemorrhaging, badly, in your lower abdomen. So Saturday was spent saving your life. It was decided to keep you under for further evaluation and restorative work, which is why you’ve been out a week.”

“You kept me under for a full week? Isn’t that—Oops! Won’t interrupt again,” I said sheepishly.

“Understandable reaction, Melanie. Anyway, once we got you back in the land of the living we took stock of what we’d found when we opened you up. It was one of those cases where the scans couldn’t tell us everything we needed to know. We had to get in there to see the reality, and then evaluate, re-evaluate, and conference like crazy. I called Dr. Gupta in immediately but it took some time for him to arrive. Meanwhile, you stayed under.”

“I told your mom and we spent Saturday out front here,” Marilyn said.

“We were so worried …we never knew if …” Mom’s voice broke.

“Thank you, everybody,” I said. “I love you all so much!”

Dr. Stevenson continued. “Sunday we kept you in an induced coma to allow your body to rest after Saturday’s adventures. Then on Monday we began a lot of tests, including some that have been proposed in the medical journals but never actually tried before. As your doctors, we presented the situation and all doable options to your family.”

“My family; I like that,” I said.

Mom’s voice was loving but carried her recent fear. “The first hurdle was keeping you alive. And you were right, honey; they told us that parts of you inside actually did sort of …explode.”

“The so-called ‘rudimentary’ organs took a huge strain and there was some leakage,” Dr. Stevenson explained.

Mom continued. “Once we knew you’d survive, they told us what they’d found and what it all meant for you. We truly looked at every choice; I only pray you’ll approve the choice we made.”

There was a pause. I said, “Oops; I thought I wasn’t to interrupt but I guess you’re waiting for something. Mom, I’m sure I’ll approve any choice as long as it wasn’t to make me be a boy.”

There was an odd bustle at that; I tensed up but then could tell they were looking at each other but it kind of sounded like they were relieved.

“Oh, nothing so hideous as that,” Marilyn cracked, which eased the tension.

“At that point,” Dr. Stevenson picked up, “The decision was made to wake you and put the question to you.”

“Voice of God,” I said.

Dr. Thompson said, “Everybody’s beating around the bush here so I’ll move things forward. Melanie, the decision that was chosen by your doctors and your family—unanimously, I might add—was to do the corrective surgery to allow you to function as a female. Not the sex-change surgery that must wait until you turn eighteen—you remember we discussed that and I know that you wanted it—but since you were, to all intents and purposes, a female with damaged reproductive organs, we were able to proceed.”

“Proceed …?”

Dr. Thompson teased, “No interruptions, young lady!”

“Sorry. Oops! Damn!”

“You are not to say that word, Melanie,” Mom corrected.

Dr. Thompson said, “I think I’ve created a speed bump here; let me go on. Melanie, by law we were within rights to proceed with surgery, but because your case is unique, it’s going to be scrutinized in detail for years. To fully answer any questions on the matter, we brought you to consciousness and Dr. Stevenson asked you specific questions. Dr. Stevenson and I were present, as well as legal representatives for the hospital, and your mother, of course. You told us, for the record, that you wanted your so-called ‘male’ genitalia removed and wanted to live your life as a girl—and you made it plain that you are a girl. I couldn’t have been more pleased with your responses—even as sedated as you were—if I’d coached you myself!”

Marilyn said, “They filmed it for the record, so you can see and hear it later, honey. But the legal guys went into a quick huddle and then told us, ‘She’s good to go.’”

Dr. Stevenson began again. “I know you’re getting tired, Melanie; I can see it on your monitor, so I’ll tell you about your missing week. You have had a total of twenty-two hours of surgery in three major surgical sessions. That’s in addition to the emergency surgeries when you arrived on Saturday.”

“Twenty-two …” I was staggered. And he was right; I was tired.

“Once the unanimous decision was made, and once Dr. Gupta arrived, we began. Using a combination of trauma surgical techniques, SRS procedures, and some absolutely cutting-edge micro-surgery equipment, we’ve been rebuilding you, trying to connect everything properly. We can’t promise fully-functional organs, because we don’t know about their abilities to recover from the long dormancy—and the fact that this has never been attempted before. And there are more surgeries to come, later this summer. But, Melanie, the end result is that we’re attempting …to conform your body to what it would have been if you had been born XX, without the complications from the Y snip. In other words, fully female since birth.”

“Oh, God …” I started crying. “Oh, God …” I sniffed and felt tissues dabbing my eyes. “Thank you. And thank you, thank you, thank you!”

“You need to go back to sleep and rest. We can talk later.”

“Before you go, what’s the next step, or …what’s your plans for me? Then I’ll go to sleep.” Unfortunately, I yawned at this point.

“No more surgeries for awhile; your body needs to recover. You will be closely monitored in the hospital for a few days to a week and then go home. We will have you back at least twice more for further work. This is a long, hard, road, Melanie, but I believe it’s what you want and you’ll find it’s been worth it.”

“Oh, it is; I’m sure! Thank you, Dr. Stevenson, and everybody else!” I yawned again.

There was a murmur of good-byes from the medical staff, leaving me alone with ‘my family’—Mom, Marilyn, and Carol.

“Mom …are you okay with this?”

“Better than okay, sweetheart! When they told me …well, everything they’ve told me about you has been incredible. But right now you sleep and rest and get strong. I love you.”

Marilyn said, “We love you, too, Melanie; we’ll see you tomorrow.”

Carol added, “Bye, Mel.”

I grinned and said, “Bye, sis!”

After the kisses and warm hugs, they left and I drifted off to sleep happily, dazzled by everything I’d been told.

And even with screwy grammar, my mind kept saying the same thing: I was going to be fully female since birth!

End of Part 9

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