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(Cover image designed by Shauna J. Rousseau and Joyce Melton.)
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I look at Frankie and sigh.
We’ve just spent a few minutes talking about last week’s events. The medical building also sustained some damage based on the fact that TG individuals are treated here—and Frankie makes no secret about her past. Even though, it wasn’t to the level of the bakery, there was damage. Mostly a few smashed windows and spray-painted messages. Being more on the outskirts of town seems to have saved it from the larger crowds of vandals.
When we’ve caught up on that, I spend several minutes explaining my birth certificate issue to her and she nods her frustrated understanding.
She blows out her cheeks in exasperation and says, “I know that many States have that sort of statutory language and there’s just not a good way around it, I’m afraid. You can certainly talk to Vicky, but we have discussed this before, and unless she’s come up with something new, there’s nothing either of us can offer you outside of the options that you already have on the table.”
She pauses, then adds, “I can set up an appointment with Dr. Zuber here in the building to do an outpatient procedure to take care of either of the procedures you have outlined. In my opinion, though, it’s best if you go ahead and have both done at once. They’re part of full SRS anyway, so neither will interfere with that when you’re ready to complete the surgery.”
She puts a finger on her lip in thought and taps her fingernail against it, then goes to the phone and makes a call. She asks for Vicky then has a quick conversation before handing me the phone.
I give her a curious look and Vicky says, “Hi Ange, you need to talk to me?”
I sigh and say, “Well, it could have waited until Thursday, but…”
I outline the issue and she concurs with Frankie, “Well, on the surface, I agree with Frankie. I don’t have a better alternative for you. It all comes down to how ready you are to permanently commit. And I think we both know you are. You just have to fully admit it yourself—but ultimately, it’s up to you, Hon! You have my support, either way.”
We chat a couple more minutes, then I hang up.
I look at Frankie and shiver. I can’t believe what I’m about to say.
I take a deep breath and then take the plunge, “OK, Frankie. Can you make that appointment with Dr. Zuber? The sooner the better.”
Frankie nods and asks, “For…?”
I take another deep breath and let it out slowly, then squeak, “Both…”
I say a quick prayer and hope that I haven’t just completely lost it!
I sit nervously in the waiting room. Kim is holding my hand and bouncing her foot with an anxious energy.
We both desperately want to go out to vape, but I’ve started working on her that we need to cut back—well, ultimately quit.
I picked a bad time to get all serious about that—but that cigarette that Vicky gave me sent the message. Vaping is easy to get into—smoking is really bad but easy to transition to from vaping. Bottom line, neither is good…
I really want nicotine right now, though! Vicky has told me there are some medical options to help and Kim has agreed that we can look into those—later.
Anyway, Frankie was able to get me an appointment with Dr. Zuber today—as in the day after my appointment with her!
Now, I’m waiting to have my ‘commitment’ to becoming a girl be made ‘permanent’. After today, I will never have genetic children of my own—and I will never stand to pee again. Well, not without making a huge mess!
I giggle nervously at that thought and Kim gives me a funny look. I tell her my random crazy thought and she giggles with me.
Caught up in trying to deflect my nervousness, we both jump when the nurse comes out and announces, “Angie? Dr. Zuber is ready!”
Dr. Zuber is a urologist that practices in the outpatient center that Frankie works out of, and he just happened to have an opening created by last week’s…goings-on. He was more than happy to get me scheduled right away at Frankie’s request.
So, here I am.
I take a deep breath and Kim squeezes my hand. We go back together and the next hour and a half is a blur that I don’t want to get into.
Thankfully, everything goes well and Dr. Zuber pats me on my thigh when he is done. My legs are still in the table’s stirrups and splayed wide apart.
He simply says, “OK, Angie. Nurse Emma has explained everything to Kim on what your follow-up care is. I will see you in a week for a check-up. Your stitches and the catheter will come out a few days later—in plenty of time to not be an issue as you go to class. Kim also has the paperwork you need for the College.”
When all is said and done, I gingerly get out of the wheelchair and into Mel’s car. She loaned it to us—with Kim driving—since she’s tied up with the contractor.
I have the precious documents secured in my lap that prove my ‘permanent commitment’ and finally give in to my need.
I vape.
Desperately!
Reality is setting in! I just did something that cannot be undone! Like ever!
Angie is here to stay!
Pain and all…
I wake up in Kim’s arms. I didn’t sleep well, but Kim was sweet and kept me filled up with pain meds throughout the night.
I carefully move trying not to disturb her, but she wakes up anyway and smiles at me.
She gives me a long kiss and reluctantly breaks it to say, “Stay here, Hon. I’ll make us some breakfast, then we’ll get you moving around. How are you feeling?”
I gingerly move again and feel a dull ache in my groin. I grimace and say, “Well, I won’t be running any marathons, anytime soon! But it’s not too bad, right now.”
She hugs me tightly and gives me another passionate kiss before getting up and going to the kitchen.
I stay in bed—honestly afraid to move too much. Although, I know I will need to get up soon. My bladder is letting me know.
Reality hit hard last night about what I had done. If the Nebraska bureaucrats don’t accept what I’ve done as ‘commitment’ then I have no ‘Plan B’. I’m screwed!
That reality is no less jarring this morning—or any less painful. My last dose of meds is starting to wear off and the pain is starting to also once again make itself known!
I grimace because of a sharp pain just as Kim comes back in and she gets an empathetic look on her face as she grabs my meds and a glass of water. She hands me the pills and the water and I down them with a shudder.
We wait a minute before she helps me up. Of course, the pain has not lessened yet, but my stomach lets us both know that it doesn’t care about the pain, at the moment! The growl could probably have been heard by the workers over the beginning construction noise below!
We make a quick stop to relieve my bladder in my newly required sitting position, and I curse the catheter that I will have for the next several days. I do my best to make everything work and keep it clean, then she helps me to the table.
A cup of strong coffee and some fresh scones later, I’m feeling much better! I mean sure, the non-opioid painkillers and the nicotine have helped, too.
Kim smiles at me and says, “OK, Love. Time to get you moving! Doctor’s orders!”
She then makes me walk around the Loft for thirty minutes. At first it’s really painful, then I get into a rhythm and it’s not too bad, then the pain starts growing again. She finally relents and we sit down just as Mel knocks on the inside door and comes in with April.
I notice right away that something is…different.
Mel comes straight over to me and gives me a careful, but firm hug. She inquires, “How are you, Hon? Are you feeling OK?"
April follows suit with a hug, then puts an arm around Mel when she disengages.
I give Kim a knowing look, then answer Mel’s question, “I’m sore—and still questioning my sanity—but otherwise OK.”
Mel nods and simply says, “I wish Auntie were here for you to talk to. She has…had…the experience that you need. But so does Frankie!”
She kisses April and then adds, “As you’ve probably surmised…April and I have rekindled our…fire. It never really died, to be honest. The…happenings…last week just reminded us that we need to live in the moment and trust in our gut feelings!”
I laugh and say, “Yeah… Tell me about it. I’m certainly living in the moment! I’m still not sure that I’m not insane for doing this. But you and April are just so cute together! Like Kim and me!”
I blush and Kim gives me a passionate kiss—with more than just a little tongue.
We all go into the living room and Mel and April cuddle on the loveseat, while Kim and I sit on the couch. I carefully bend my knees and tuck my feet under me as I lean on Kim.
April says, “I’m so glad that you’re doing OK, Hon! I wanted to let you know that we’re no further along with our investigation into Dr. Jones, but things are largely settling down in the city. For now.”
She takes a sip of her coffee and continues, “You should be safe enough starting school if you stay in a tight group. I talked to Lucy after we left here, and she knows most of the others that Dr. Jones targeted. She’s going to get them all together for a group discussion.”
I sigh and say, “Well, I’m not getting out for a day or two. Maybe we can just have the meeting here? I mean, the cat’s out of the bag for all of us now, anyway. Right?”
She sighs and agrees, “Yes, I’m afraid so. While your transitioning may not still be public, a certain…element…is aware of who all of you are now. At least you will be able to go to the proper restroom now.”
Mel changes the subject, “And with the construction started on the new addition, we’ll soon be back in business. Which reminds me. Since you’re kind of stuck in here and school hasn’t started yet, I would like to teach you the basics of cake decorating and then you can start using that artistic talent of yours to amp it up. That way, we can start taking special orders right away.”
She takes a breath and continues, “With the expansion, I’m going to have to hire a couple of full-time bakers, so there will be less need for you and Kim to do that work. I would really like you two to be more on the customer service side and helping with the waitressing. Kim will still do the books and you can do the artistic stuff.”
She smiles and adds, “If that’s OK with the two of you, that is.”
We both exclaim, “Yes, Ma’am,” at the same time, and we all laugh.
I ask, “So, what’s the timeline on the buildout?”
Mel shrugs and says, “It still depends on the insurance company. The adjuster is supposed to be here tomorrow. The new part should be done in about six weeks—another two to get the original side fixed once they get started. So, best case—a couple of months.”
I look up from the cake I’m attempting to decorate with something halfway acceptable. I’m beginning to figure out how to use the food dyes like watercolors and paint on fondant. Mel has taught me how to get the fondant tight and smooth and it makes a decent surface to paint on, but it’s still very different that painting on actual canvas—or paper.
Kim is going to the outside door to answer the knock that had startled us both. We weren’t expecting any company.
Harry is waiting outside and quickly comes in when Kim invites him.
I wash out my brush and smile at him as he comes over to the table to see what I’m doing.
He exclaims, “Angie! That’s beautiful! Of course, you have a beautiful model to work off of, too.”
I blush and look at the nearly finished ‘portrait’ of Kim on the cake and then smile at him. “What brings you here on this nice day, Harry? It can’t be to inspect my work and it’s much too nice to want to spend it indoors. Believe me! I want to get out so bad, but I’m not quite up to long hikes, just yet!”
He shakes his head and says, “I can imagine. I just wanted you to know that my lawyer friend, Gidget, from the ACLU contacted me and they’re going to sue the College on their bathroom policy.”
I feel the blood drain from my face and almost screech, “You mean I may have done this for nothing?”
Kim squeezes my shoulders and Harry winces as he says, “Well, the school wasn’t your only reason. Right? I mean that’s what I understood—that you wanted to…”
He lets the sentence drop in confusion.
I take a deep breath and sigh, “I’m sorry, Harry. I’m trying to cut back on nicotine. Together with the hormones that I’m still trying to adjust to, I can get a little…emotional. You’re correct in that I wanted this. But I may not have hurried it along quite as much given other options.”
He nods in understanding and says, “Well, just because they’re going to sue, doesn’t mean they’ll win. Even if they did, it likely wouldn’t do you much good unless you plan on going to the college for a long time. This could take years to litigate. At least you’re now guaranteed to be able to use the bathroom of your actual gender now.”
He takes the cup of coffee that Kim offers him and adds, “Thank you, Kim! Anyway, I filed the paperwork with Dr. Jones’ assistant, Grace Richards. She was very considerate and said that the doctor’s notes are sufficient until your birth certificate is changed, since she knows you’re pursuing that.”
He takes a careful sip of the coffee and looks at me to see if I have any questions.
I take a deep breath and let it out slowly, then nod. “Thank you, Harry. I appreciate you doing that for me. It would have been tight if I had to go down when I’m well enough. I still want to pay you for your services, though!”
He shakes his head and says, “Don’t worry about it. It’s taken care of.”
I give him a funny look and he just says, “I can’t divulge more than that. But your bill is paid in full. Plus, you have a healthy retainer on account, so don’t hesitate to call me if you need me!”
I look around the Loft in wonderment.
I’m feeling much better now that most of the swelling has gone down. I still have a few days before I can get the stitches or catheter pulled, though.
In the meantime, Lucy contacted me and we set up the meeting for this evening.
The Loft is currently occupied by a varied crowd. Aside from Kim, Mel, and myself, Harry and April are here, as is Lucy. Then there is Greg Thornton, the guy that came after me at the inquisition, Sam Reynolds, Cindy Hollenbeck, Lisa Wellington, and Breana Ginger.
As far as we know, this is the group of students ‘outed’ by Jonesy to the militia. Each of the transgender individuals in the room are not transitioning publicly, but each received a threatening note. Besides myself, only Lisa has successfully navigated the bathroom issue. The others avoid using the restroom at all costs while on-campus.
We spend some time getting to know each other and April gathers the information she needs for her investigation into Jonesy.
It was actually a relief to all of us to know that we’re not alone in this. But it’s also terrifying to know that we’re all up against this irrational...bigotry.
We vow to band together and support each other.
The Loft will become our weekly meeting place.
When everyone but Kim and Mel have left, Mel says, “I know you’re still unsure about this part of your new life, Hon. Auntie would be proud of you using the Loft for a support group, though. And so am I! Now, how about some wine?”
I look between my splayed legs at Dr. Zuber. I’m laying on an exam table with my legs once again in stirrups like I’m having a gynecological exam. He’s giving me my one-week post-op check-up.
It’s hard to believe it’s been a week. The pain is mostly gone. I’m still a little tender, but nothing like those first few days.
He pokes and prods and finally says, “Well, Angie. It seems you’re a fast healer! There’s absolutely no reason that I can’t remove the stitches and your catheter. That’s the reason that I set up this exam. Some people heal in a week—others take two. I can relieve you of your torture devices now.”
He does something and I can feel a strange sensation. He smiles at me and says, “Well, that was your catheter. It’s vitally important that you follow the hygiene instructions I gave you and wipe correctly. You’re as prone to UTIs as any other woman now. Do you have any questions on that?”
I shake my head. Kim has firmly beat that mantra into my head—wipe front to back. It’s been academic up until now, though. With the catheter gone, I will now have to actually wipe after I pee.
He then busies himself removing the stitches, which sort of tickles, itches, and pinches all at the same time.
When the last one is pulled, he says, “OK, Ange. You’re official now. When you decide to finish this up, let me know. I know a very good SRS surgeon that can work miracles. Ask Frankie—she did hers.”
I blush again and say, “Thanks, Doc. So, that’s it? I don’t need to come back?”
He shakes his head and says, “Not unless something unexpected crops up. You look perfectly healed and ready to go. I wish all of my patients did this well!”
He helps me get my legs out of the stirrups and leaves me to get dressed.
My panties feel tons better without the catheter getting in my way. Tucking is a piece of cake without my…other…assets getting in the way. Not that there’s much to tuck—and he seems to be getting smaller, now that I’m on hormones.
I know that has to be my imagination, though. I haven’t been on them long enough to cause any change like that. Not that I was ever on my ‘natural’ hormones to cause any growth, either…
I make a note to talk to Frankie about it, none-the-less.
When I’m dressed, Dr. Zuber comes back in and says, “OK, Angie. I’ve updated your records and Frankie has full access. By the way, just for your information. You not only are a fast healer, you also seem to be responding to your new hormones on a faster than normal pace. That’s nothing to worry about. The bell curve is set by the average—and there are always those on both sides of the norm. You seem to be on the ‘faster-paced’ side.”
He sees my confused look and says, “I don’t mean to seem crude; this is just medical jargon. Your penis has shrunk. That’s completely normal with what you’re going through, so don’t worry if you notice it. Now, I’m a urologist, so I can talk about that. You might want to seek out a gynecologist, though. I’m sure you will be developing in other areas, too. Frankie can help there, since it’s good to have someone that’s familiar with TG needs. I’ve made a note in your file for her to bring it up at your next appointment.”
He smiles and says, “Good luck, Angie. And don’t forget—when you’re ready, just let me know and I’ll refer you to have that full SRS done.”
“Look at you crossing those legs, Hon!”
Vicky and I are on the roof. The weather is unseasonably cool, and she thought it would be a good idea.
I’m sitting like quite the lady, my legs completely and tightly crossed—with no discomfort whatsoever. I even bounce my foot like I’ve always dreamed of being able to do—one foot on its toe and the other loosely hanging over my tightly crossed leg.
I feel like such a girl!
She asks, “OK, Hon. Are you sure you’re ready?”
I sigh and say, “Not really. I’ve really gotten to like the feeling. I know that’s not a good thing, though. How do you smoke and not be dependent on it?”
She shrugs and says, “Well, nicotine always has a physical addictive component. But there is also a large mental addictive piece—usually as a coping mechanism. Although some have…other addictions, like sexual. That’s a whole other story—I don’t see you doing this as a fetish and I certainly don’t!”
She smiles supportively and continues, “I don’t have the need to have it to cope. And I guess I’m not hugely prone to its physical addictive properties. Anyway, once you start this medication it will decrease your physical cravings and its effects on you.”
I nod and sigh, “I Really like the feeling of comfort it gives me. But I get I need to not rely on that. Kim has agreed to go through with this with me. We both kind of let ourselves get hooked out of curiosity and not out of some desire. Sure, we’ll miss it—but we have each other.”
Vicky smiles and pulls out a cigarette, then says, “OK. Well, then enjoy it while you can. Cigarette?”
She grins knowingly and I shake my head in horror. “No thanks! Those things are evil!” We sit there in peaceful silence while she smokes and I vape. When she puts out her cigarette, I turn off my device and she ceremoniously hands me the written prescription for Kim and my medication to help us quit.
Then we go down to her office and finish the session.
Just as I exit the building when we’re done, my phone rings. I pull it out of my purse and see it’s Bob before I answer.
“Hey, Bob. What’s up?”
He quickly says, “Hi, Sis! I know you’re busy. Just a quick update. I just got off with Jim and he says that the paperwork is perfect!”
Jim Sawyer is our lawyer and the one navigating my legal issues back home.
I sigh and say, “Thanks, Bob. Any idea how long?”
He muses, “Well, we have two more weeks of announcing in the paper. We have a court appearance set up for three weeks from today—you won’t have to be there, so don’t worry. Jim says we’ll be able to take care of both the name and the gender change at once. If all goes well, you’ll be official by the end of the month!”
I smile into the phone and say, “Thanks, Bob. I love you!”
He says, “Love you, too, Sis! I’ll call you later. I have to run!”
We hang up and I order my Uber in deep thought.
It will be so nice to have my papers in order so I can get a driver’s license.
Of course, Kim’s going to have to teach me to drive first! I never had time to learn back home and hopefully Mel will let us borrow her car.
I sigh as my Uber pulls up—as if that were my only problem!
Comments
That’s some commitment
Great chapter
Thanks!
Unfortunately, the description of the laws are accurate for Nebraska.
HUGS!
S
I remember when I had mine done.
Feels like you've been reborn!
Sigh...
Rebirth sounds nice! :)
Thanks for the support!
HUGS!
S
nice and tight writing
Shauna's writing skills are excellent. Don't believe me? Go back and read her last chapter where so many became "engaged" in her talented ability. This chapter leaves me a little confused? Obviously she opted for castration and it wasn't SRS. She was sent home immediately after the deed was done. Normal. Later in the story it is mentioned her water weasel is shrinking and SRS is in her future. On her return visit to have stitches removed they discuss wiping front to back after necessities are done.
Explinations and descriptions are finished so let's plow onto the confusion. Times change but no one needed a catheter after castration unless there were complications. And there is no wiping back to front at this time as it is wiping the nozzle of the squirt gun she still carries. People, clue me in. I dropped this on into SF category.
Way back in the dark ages close to thirty years, IRC was in vogue (it still is) Lisa was one of the many I visited with. An exceptionally beautiful girl, some uncouth clod asked her if she sit to do business? I'll remember her reply until the day I die.
"Yes I do and I wipe too."
The girl was total class in looks, dress, and manners. On a dead computer in the past is her picture she sent me. She is standing on a curving star way, her hand on the railing, a big smile on her face, wearing a cute short pleated skirt and blouse. Such elegance.
I've lived too damn long.
Hugs Shauna
Barb
Life is meant to be lived, not worn until it's worn out.
Oklahoma born and raised cowgirl
I got a lot of questions on this one...
I know I was being vague, but many don't like the gory descriptions... ;)
She got the orchidectomy that everyone picked up on. The other part of prepping for full SRS (i.e., turning the penis inside-out) is moving the urethral opening to the base of the scrotum, where it would sit if on a genetic girl. This is called a urethral relocation when done for purposes other than SRS (sometimes done when the urethra is scarred and blocked to the extent that it can't be opened back up). This requires the person to sit and pee like a girl (because they are now 'plumbed' like a girl) and wipe. The urethra is as short as a girl's now, and prone to UTIs, so wiping in the proper direction (to keep the poop out) is just as important for them as a girl.
Sorry for the confusion! Hope this helps clear it up!
HUGS!
S
Catheter
Never say "no one needs", there are always exceptions. In the early 70's (in Denmark) it was a common thing the doctors did. This was what they did and I was in no position to argue with them. Also this was a all-in-one-shot surgery on Norway's healthcare (I had connections in high places) so I wasn't going to push my luck. No problems and it was gone within the week.
"Life is not measured by the breaths you take, but by the moments that take your breath away.”
George Carlin
Castration.
That's the way I did it. Did the SRS a couple years later.
Gwen