This story comes via an inspiration I got from glancing at and remembering the story "What a good boy" by Bailey Summers. As Bailey mentioned in the comments for that story, having a male undergoing a vaginoplasty and yet living as a male is quite unusual.
I hope to provide my own look at living a life where one has to live with conditions and requirements like that. I hope I do it justice.
It was also inspired a bit by the story Tommy that Teddie S. has been posting, although mine will be much more from the male side of things.
My legal name is William Andrew Tinker. I'm a member of a modestly sized Ojibwa band living midway between Webequie and Peawanuck. Well, actually, I'm 3/4 Ojibwa and 1/4 Cree, two of my eight great-grandparents having married into the band here about sixty years or so ago.
Those are two communities waaaay up in Northern Ontario, in the huge area known to the world at large as the Canadian Shield.
Peawanuck is not far from the western shores of Hudson's Bay, about 230 miles east from Port Nelson and 300 from Churchill. Those two places are towns on the shore of Hudson Bay, at the point where the big bay begins to turn toward the north and north-northeast.
For those of you who want to know a bit more, Port Nelson and Churchill are in Manitoba, the province to the west of Northern Ontario.
Well, as I said, our band lives far out in the back woods. I guess you can't get much more back woods than where we are, heh?
We tend to try to live in some form of communion with Mother Nature, i.e., we try not to harm the land if there are ways to avoid doing so. One of those ways that we use is to shift our camp every two or three years to one of several similar spots within about a twenty mile radius.
There are untold numbers of rocky hills up here, and countless tiny lakes scattered all over the place, too.
Those little lakes often provide us with our biggest source of food, various types of small to modest sized fish.
Walleye, perch, bass, lake trout are fairly common, but we do catch the odd muskie and northern pike, too.
At other times, a bunch of our warriors will go out on a hunt, sometimes for up to two or three weeks at a time.
If they manage to get lucky, they'll bring back a deer, maybe an elk, very rarely a moose. Mostly, they find smaller game like wild hares.
Heck, up here, you learn to eat what you can get, yeah? As for vegetables, the band has a fair sized communal plot near the camp. We grow mostly soybeans and maize primarily, but also some oats, wheat and tall grass that we cut as hay for our small herd of horses.
There's one section of the plot where we plant various types of squash and pumpkins. They like the long summer days we have here.
That should give you an idea of how we manage to survive in an area where so few people choose to live.
As I said, there are lots of hills up here, all part of the Canadian Shield. There are large amounts of igneous rocks such as basalt, pumice, obsidian, rhyolite with metamorphic rocks such as gneiss, schist, slate, marble and quartzite underlying the igneous rock types.
Some of these hills are great for being able to see for a distance, towering several hundred feet above the rocky ground below them.
There is, or I should say was, one of these that many of the kids in the camp liked to use as a viewing point because it had an overhang. This overhang extended about twenty feet out from the steep cliff side under it, and you could often find us relaxing there.
That was where the bunch of us went on the day that my life changed in a way that I had not, nor could I have, foreseen.
Well, I was obviously there, or I wouldn't be telling you this story, would I?
Johnny Buckhorn was there with his older sister Sammi, Billy Whitefish with his younger brother Thomas, Bobby Blackthorn, James Highnest, Pete Wildwood, Andy Hawkwind, Donny Bearpaw with his cousin Phil, Nate Stormcloud, Tess Riversong, and Lori Windholm.
Yep, that's pretty much all of the teenagers from our camp, all in one place just having a quiet time and enjoying a warm summer day.
Then the first tremor hit. Everyone looked around, then got up and most of us began to move back, away from the overhang.
That first tremor was followed by a much stronger one, the ground shook like I had never felt before. Quakes happen here, but not often.
I was just turning around to move back from the overhang area when the third and largest tremor struck. The ground literally heaved right under my feet, then the overhang part simply vanished and I found myself falling past the edge of the cliff, just out of my hands' reach.
Then... I stopped, or I should say that I was stopped, by my very sudden impact with the huge trunk of an old red pine growing out from the cliffside. That tree, in its effort to get as much sunlight as it possibly could this far north, had twisted this way and that as it grew.
I landed at a point where the trunk suddenly shifted direction, from growing out to going upward parallel to the cliff.
The impact was not pretty, I landed astride that section of the trunk, my legs off to either side of the trunk itself.
To put it bluntly, my pelvis struck that part of the trunk with enough force that it pretty much squashed my manhood underneath me. That wasn't quite the worst of it, though. You see, this hoary old tree had twisted and swerved so many times it had formed ridges all over the place.
Squashed I could probably have handled, I suppose. The mangled and shredded bits of flesh that remained of my manhood? Not so much.
To say that I screamed when I landed there would be polite. No, I shrieked several times in a voice much, much higher than my usual tone.
Then the tree cracked, and a moment or two later, it could have been seconds or minutes, I honestly don't know, it snapped.
I hit the ground hard, with part of the trunk falling under me, and thus received another brutal impact to my already traumatized manhood.
That was all I knew, as I mercifully blacked out from the agony of the injuries that I had received from the fall.
All I can say is that I was sort of there listening to what was said, although I wasn't conciously aware at the time due to the drugs they had pumped into me at some point to help stabilize me. I did know that my injuries were quite serious, but I didn't know everything yet.
On some level, though, I could hear quite a bit of what was being said or happening around me, like trays being picked up?
One voice sounded like my dad, Joseph Tinker, he's the only lawyer we have in our small band. The voice that sounded like his was saying, "So, doc, there's damn near nothing you can do to fix the damage to his genitals? What the heck is he supposed to do, live like that?"
Yeah, that sounds like dad. When he gets pissed about something, he'll get right in your face and let you know point blank.
The next voice I guess was the doc, but it was too low and too quiet for me to understand anything that was said.
The third voice was the shocker, though. Sammi Buckhorn was here, wherever here was? Oh, man, this is soooo not good!
Apparently, that was when I climbed out of whatever state of awareness I had been in and tried to rejoin the land of the living.
Oh, wow, that's quite the headache. Did they have to pump me up with that much medication? Something must be really, really wrong here...
It took a fair bit of effort, but I managed to get both hands up by my head and held it in my hands for a few minutes, maybe a little longer.
I looked around, well, as well as I could. I was obviously on some sort of hospital stretcher, the smells said hospital, too.
Dad was standing just inside the door and immediately looked my way when the monitors went off, telling everyone that I was awake.
Two nurses and a doctor came hustling into the room at just about the time when I let go of my head. The lights were irritating me. Ugh!
One of the nurses, with a name tag saying Julie on it, noticed my reaction to the lights and picked up a thin cloth that had been lying on a table on the side of the bed opposite from where dad was standing. She gently laid that over my eyes, which brought out a sigh of relief.
I managed to mutter the words "bad headache" just loud enough to be heard by the nurses and the doctor, who was standing by the end of the bed, looking up toward me. He seemed to be looking at two or three machines around the bed, monitors of various kinds, I assume.
The second nurse said she would be back in a moment with some Tylenol® and a cup of water. I relaxed for a minute or two, just waiting.
He sounded fairly old, maybe it was the gravelly voice as he introduced himself, "Hi, Will, I'm Dr. Kinson, I'm the lead doctor on your medical situation. I have Dr. Alliston working with me," he waved behind him and a woman perhaps ten years younger entered the room and stopped just past dad as I briefly lifted the cloth covering my eyes to look around, before sighing again and replacing it. Damn those lights hurt.
That was when the second nurse returned, handed me two Tylenol® and gently steered the cup to my lips so I could take the pills.
Once I had had about half of the glass, I pushed it away. I could just barely hear her put the half-empty cup on a hard surface nearby.
I cleared my throat and spoke, "Okay, Doctors, I have a fair idea of what initially happened due to the first fall. To be blunt, I saw what the heck that impact did, and I screamed like a girl for a while, then that trunk broke under me and I hit the ground on top of it before blacking out. Now, just by the fact that you haven't actually said anything, I'm getting the idea that something else is wrong. Care to bring me up to date?"
The older doctor, Dr. Kinson, shook his head and chuckled, "Let me just say that what happened when you hit that piece of trunk the second time as it and you reached the ground was rather gruesome. You see, you shifted as you fell, just enough that you landed directly on your scrotal sac. From the tests we did when you arrived here earlier this afternoon, your testicles were both shattered, much like smashed grapes."
I hadn't noticed mom as she slipped into the room and up beside the bed. I did notice when she clasped my hand in hers.
Now, mom hasn't had any medical training whatsoever, but she's tended me and my little brother Wesley whenever we were sick with the flu or something. She saw me as I turned my head, and with her free hand, grabbed a urinary pan from a nearby table and put it under my chin.
She had it there just in time, as a few seconds after that, I lost what little food was still in my belly, spewing it all into that pan.
I could feel my body shaking from the emotional and psychological stress of what I had just been told. It was definitely not good news.
I slowly and carefully laid back on the hospital bed, willing myself to slow down and center my inner spirit. Soul? I'm not sure honestly. What I do know is that there is some sort of inner presence that, when I take time to actually center myself, feels more balanced, happier, even?
Once I had calmed down enough to enunciate clearly, I spoke again, "Okay, Doc, I know my penis is probably beyond repairing. Finding out that my testicles were destroyed like that wasn't much fun for me, as you just noticed. So, Doc, just what are my options now?"
Dr. Kinson just stood there for a moment, saying nothing, then let out a low, brief chuckle. "You have a lot of guts, spunk, whatever you want to call it, Will. As for the options on what we can do, there aren't a lot. You're right, there's so much damage to your penis that, if we could repair it and ensure that it would be functional again, you'd have to find it with your fingers, it would be that small, that short.
"In all honesty, though, we've had three different surgeons take a look at it and all three said it was too damaged to realistically repair it. That leaves us with two options, remove it and leave you basically a neutered male, with a redirected urinary tract so you can handle that bodily function in a fairly normal manner... or remove the penis, then use some tissue from your colon and create a vaginal cavity.
"That last option would mean you would appear to be physically female down there, but would function in a normal manner otherwise."
"Oh, lovely," I groaned as the headache spiked briefly, then began to ebb. It seemed the Tylenol® was finally having an effect on it. "So, if I want to be physically male, or as close to it as I could be, I'd be a neuter, a eunuch, or you turn me inside out and make a vagina."
I briefly removed the cloth from my eyes, then dropped it on my lap. The lights were still irritating, but they weren't bothering me like earlier.
I laid there on the bed for a minute or two, trying once again to calm down, then looked at my parents. "Dad, mom, what do you think?"
Mom spoke first, "Dr. Kinson and Dr. Alliston were speaking with us about this before you woke up, dear. It's their opinion, and that of the three surgeons they brought in to look at you, that the best option would be to create a vagina, removing all the damaged male bits."
Then dad added, standing behind mom with his hand on her shoulder, "That doesn't mean you have to become all girl on us, Will. Actually, even if you did go that route operation wise, you could still live your life as a male, you could even get testosterone treatments."
Mom spoke again, "Or you can have that operation and become a girl. Girl, boy, no matter what, we'll still love you, you're our eldest child."
I asked if everyone could leave for ten or fifteen minutes so I could think without anyone distracting me.
I spent a bit longer than ten or fifteen minutes thinking after everyone had left the room, but this deserved as much thought as I could give it.
One of the monitors was turned just enough toward me that I could see the time displayed in one corner of the screen, 6:08 PM.
We'd headed up that hill just after 9:30 AM, using three four wheel four seat ATVs plus Donny, James and Andy had brought their mountain bikes. The first tremor had hit at 10:51 AM, after we had been up there for about an hour, the next two within a minute or so of the first.
Somehow, I had been picked up and brought here to wherever here was. I only knew it was a hospital because of the distinctive smells.
Finally, after what ended up being nearly half an hour, I made my decision. I would have to live with it for the rest of my life.
I hit the call button, and when the nurse showed up, I asked her to get the two doctors and my parents and bring them to the room.
She nodded and scurried out, returning two or three minutes later with the doctors, my parents, and... Sammi Buckhorn. Oh, boy!
Sammi again... oowhee...Sammi is a year younger than I am, not quite sixteen to my nearly seventeen, and seriously pretty, heck, gorgeous!
We've been sort of dating since a week after the spring equinox. She's a really nice girl, I hope she can handle what I'm about to say.
Once everyone had figured out where they wanted to stand, I nodded and began to speak to them.
"Dr. Kinson, Dr. Alliston, thank you for your work and your efforts. It's not going to be easy for me to cope with what I've decided to do, but I'm not the sort to waffle once a decision has been made. Build me a vagina, but Docs... I want testosterone treatments, too."
Mom and dad nodded, I could see they weren't surprised. I wonder how they knew what I would decide? Maybe I'll ask them later.
Dr. Kinson also nodded, "I think you've made the right decision, Will. Now I'll go and get everything organized."
He nodded again, turned and left the room, heading who knows where?
Dr. Alliston smiled at me, "You'll be fine, Will. We have an excellent medical team here."
I shook my head, then replied, "That's all nice and good that everyone seems happy with it, but Doc, just where in the heck am I?" I suppose the rising growl in my voice as I spoke to her made her aware that I was just slightly annoyed, no, rather annoyed, at the moment.
She actually giggled as she answered me, "Oh, you're in a bed in the children's wing of Thunder Bay Regional Health Sciences Centre. The medic on the chopper that brought you to us was saying they were initially headed to the hospital in Nipigon, but came here instead."
Medic? On a chopper? Ooooh, that must have been one of the three guys that lives by a lake about fifteen miles southeast of our camp.
"Ahhhh, the medic was likely Alec Quince, he's taken several medical courses online, I guess you''d call him a nurse practitioner if he had an actual degree, but he doesn't yet. The chopper would be one of two that Alec, his brother Frank and their cousin Darren own."
The comment about Alec, etc., actually came from dad. He talks to them over the ham radio set we have two or three times a week.
Sammi was staring at me. To be honest, in some ways, I often felt like a fish out of water around her.
She carefully stepped past my parents, then leaned over and gave me a huge hug, whispering softly, "I'll always be by your side, Will."
Well, that most definitely got a reaction of some sort from me. Whatever it was apparently set off one of the machines in the room.
Dr. Alliston moved over to stand by it, then shook her head and chuckled before she said, "You're fine, Will, you're just fine."
I looked at her with a look of "are you nuts?", throwing a brief glance down at my pelvic region, then back to her. She blushed beet red.
"Will, when I said that, I wasn't referring to what happened to you, but to your reaction to whatever she said," as she pointed to Sammi.
I spent a half hour or so talking to my parents and to Sammi. Knowing Sammi still wanted to be with me made a big, big difference.
Then a nurse came into the room, pushing a tray on wheels with what looked like a reheated meal of meatloaf, green beans and potatoes. "Hello, Will, you'll need to finish this before 8 PM; you're not to have anything but water after that time, as they'll be operating tomorrow."
Mom and dad decided to head off to a cheap motel for the night, they said they'd be back around the time I would come out of the operation.
Sammi stayed with me as I ate the food on the tray. It wasn't the best meal I've had by a long shot, but it was edible and fairly warm.
We talked for a good long while after I finished eating, until the nurse said that I needed to get some sleep.
Sammi smiled and kissed me, then turned and sashayed out the door in full hot girl mode. That caused me to giggle, umm, I mean laugh.
Sammi was the last thing on my mind as I drifted off to sleep. Tomorrow, and the operation, would be here all too soon.
The nurses woke me up twice through the night, then again at 6:30 AM just to make sure I was awake for when they would come to take me down to the operating theater and cut away all of the damaged tissue, then create a vagina and connect blood vessels, etc., to it.
Of course, by the time they DID come to pull my gurney down there, I was half nodding from being woken up so much.
They rolled me into the operating theater, where a well-built thirtyish male leaned down to place the mask over my face.
"Okay, Will," as he flipped a switch or something, "Just count down from 100 now."
I started counting, "100... 99... 98... 97... 96... 95..." then the anaesthetic rolled over my consciousness and that was all I knew.
I had been told that the whole operation would take at least five or six hours, even with two surgeons working together.
I'm not sure just how much time had passed when I woke up in the recovery room and found Sammi and my mom sitting nearby.
Sammi must have been keeping an eye on me, as it was only a moment after I opened my eyes before she noticed I was awake.
She was up and off that chair pretty darn fast, gesturing for me to lean up a bit. When I did, she hugged me half to death.
Well, it felt like it, I thought for a brief moment that she might have cracked one of my ribs, she was holding me so tightly, but as soon as she reluctantly released me from the hug, that pressure on my ribs faded. I grinned at her, pulled her close and kissed her long and hard.
Oops! Well, mom was also aware that I was awake now, staring at me from behind Sammi, shaking a finger at me. I swear I laughed.
Oh, boy, that might have been a mistake. The hug didn't bother me, but laughing put pressure on something down there, and it bloody hurt!
I let out what can only be described as a squawk of pain and Sammi looked at me, wondering what was causing me to act that way. I pointed behind her, she turned enough to see my mom still standing there, hand raised, finger shaking and promptly started giggling.
At least she can laugh at it! I laid there, clutching at my lower abdomen until mom stepped past Sammi and asked me what was wrong.
I weakly pointed to the area between my legs and whispered, "I laughed and I felt it all the way down there. Ow! Ow! OW!"
She shook her head, smiled briefly, then giggled for a minute or two while holding on to the side of the hospital bed.
I groaned, just my luck to have to lie here and be forced to deal with two giggly women at once!
About an hour or so after I woke up, I was brought a meal by one of the nurses' aides on the floor. I took a brief look at the food on the tray, it looked okay, meatloaf cut in two thin slices, corn niblets and a splatter of what I assumed was mashed potatoes on one side of the plate.
Next to the plate on the left was a plastic fork and spoon. Hmmm... no knife, that meatloaf looks firm. A quick attempt using the fork to cut a small piece of the meatloaf away from the rest succeeded, so I nodded while looking at the strawberry jello and thanked her for the food.
Mom and Sammi let me eat in peace, stepping out of the room to wait somewhere nearby until I was finished.
The meatloaf was actually fairly decent, still nice and warm from the oven. The vegetables were edible and the jello was mmmm good!
There was a glass of milk on the tray as well, which I drank bit by bit as I ate the meal.
I had laid back against the top part of the bed for perhaps fifteen minutes before someone came in to collect the tray and stand.
Once again, I made sure to thank them for the food, asking them to pass on my compliments to the cook about the meatloaf.
The young woman, most likely about ten years older than I am, grinned and said she'd do that, then wheeled the stand out of the room.
Mom and Sammi came in a short while after that and we talked until I started yawning.
I guess doing something like having an operation can take the energy right out of you like serious exercise might do otherwise.
I'm fairly sure that I was asleep even before mom and Sammi reached the door.
When I woke up this time, I found myself in a semi-private room somewhere in the hospital. The other bed was empty.
A nurse came in a minute or two later, gave me a quick visual examination just to make sure I was all right, then left the room again.
I don't think two minutes passed from her leaving to my mom, dad, Sammi and my little brother Wesley appearing in the doorway. I waved them all in, then spent a moment or two hugging mom and Sammi, then shaking dad's hand and poking Wesley in the ribs just for fun.
The little guy laughed, he's nice and doesn't mind when I get stuck with watching over him when mom and dad go out together.
Dad picked Wesley up, carefully placed him on the hospital bed beside me. I grabbed the little guy and hugged him, then tickled him. He squirmed a bit, but I didn't want to cause some kind of accident, so I only did it for a minute or two, then hugged him again for the heck of it.
He took it all like the little champ he is. Gods, I love him, even when he's a brat, which is more than half of the time!
Mom, dad and Wesley only stayed for about half an hour, leaving me alone again with Sammi.
Sammi and I talked for about an hour, I guess, our talking interspersed with plenty of hot, passionate kisses that rocked my world.
Even with my being like a girl down there, Sammi still wants to be with me. She's awesome, I love her more than I can say.
The next few days were pretty much like the post-operation portion of that day, the only difference being what the meals were each day.
Doctors and nurses wandered in from time to time to check up on me and make sure everything was fine with the work they had done.
Our little journey up the hill that led to my fall happened last Thursday morning. From what Sammi has told me since then, Alec and Frank pulled two of the seats from their older Bell 206 to make room to place me in the passenger area of the helicopter that day.
They'd arrived at most half an hour after my fall, then pushed the helicopter hard to get me to the hospital in Thunder Bay as fast as possible. Sammi then said that they had been forced to borrow a bit of fuel from the hospital's reserves in order to reach the Marine Service Coast Guard location on the eastern edge of the city, where they purchased enough fuel to return to the hospital and later on, take me home.
What surprised me, though, was that Alec's and Frank's cousin Darren followed them, picking up mom, dad, Sammi and Wesley on the way.
Sammi added that the whole group of teenagers had felt that she should go, as she and I were in the beginning stages of a relationship. They thought that having Sammi close by would give me a boost, make me want to fight to keep going, and bless them, they were right!
Darren had done the same as Alec and Frank, headed over to the Coast Guard and refuelled, bringing enough to replace what was borrowed.
None of us, other than my dad, really knew any of the three guys, but thanks to them and their helicopters, I was still alive.
Like I said, it had been a bit over three days since the operation. It was now approaching mid-afternoon on the Monday after my fall.
I'd been in the hospital for nearly four days now, and yet I was surprised by the group of four doctors who entered my room that afternoon.
I had already met Drs. Kinson and Alliston, Dr. Kinson now introduced the other two, "Will, these two are Dr. Philberts and Dr. Kamitzo."
I took a moment to look at the two new doctors. Dr. Philberts was young, tall and lean, and appeared to be rocking on the balls of his feet as if we were keeping him from doing something or other. Dr. Kamitzo, though, was a short woman of Asian appearance, perhaps 35 or so?
Dr. Kinson continued talking, "These two were the primary surgeons for the work that was done last Friday. I'm glad they were here, as it could have taken quite a bit of time to find two surgeons as capable as they are, notwithstanding Dr. Philberts is still fairly new to it all."
I nodded and smiled at the two unfamiliar doctors, then thanked them and asked what they were all doing here now.
That caused the two female doctors to blush, then giggle for a moment before Dr. Philberts explained, "We're going to remove the packing." He accompanied that brief statement by pointing at the area between my legs, then turning as red as a beet while still rocking back and forth.
Huh, even when upset or embarrassed, he keeps doing that rocking on his feet thing. I guess it's an old habit of his.
The four doctors crowded close to the gurney, then began the process of pulling out the packing and revealing their work.
There were "Hmmms", "Ahhhhs", one "Interesting!" and one "Looks like it's healing okay" as they all examined me.
I shrugged. I'm not sure if any of them noticed it at all, they were so intent on checking out the operation site.
After a few minutes of muttered conversation between the four doctors, Drs. Philberts and Kinson left the room. I was surprised that the two female doctors were still there, then Dr. Kamitzo blushed briefly, grinned and reached for a small packet in her pocket, wrapped in cellophane.
She passed the packet over to me, saying, "These are stents, you'll need to use them on a regular basis to keep your new vagina open."
I guess it was my turn to go beet red as I took the packet from her hands and set it on a small table near the top end of the bed.
"We want you to take it easy. If things look as good tomorrow as they do now, we might release you in another day or two," Dr. Alliston stated.
The two doctors stayed for about ten minutes, giving me rather detailed instructions on how to use those infernal things.
They left to continue on their rounds or to other duties somewhere in the hospital.
Sammi came back in just after they left. It only took her maybe half a minute to spot the package of stents and she burst into giggles.
I lay back on the raised upper portion of the bed, looking at my giggling girlfriend and shook my head in exasperation. Women!
It figures that my bladder would decide that the perfect time to do its duty was after the doctors had all left.
I had to actually explain to Sammi what I needed, and she turned pink as she picked up a bedpan and held it so I could take my pee.
Sammi stayed with me for most of the rest of that afternoon and a large part of the evening, except when they all went to have dinner.
I had mine in my room. It was a big bowl of what looked life a sort of beef stew or thick soup, but it was quite good and soon gone. There was a nice sized bun with it, as well as a glass of milk and a smaller bowl with what looked like rice pudding. That all disappeared, too.
Huh, my appetite doesn't seem to have been affected. I'm honestly surprised, my life is going to be so different from now on, ya know?
Sammi was rather bemused when I asked her to help me with the first attempt at dilation. It was odd... and yet interesting? Hmmm...
She was still there when the nurse came in, saying it was time for my first authorized shot of testosterone.
I guess Sammi doesn't like needles. As soon as she saw the size of the one the nurse was holding, already primed, she ran out of the room.
The nurse chuckled at Sammi scurrying out the door, then had me roll over onto my side, rubbed my butt with an alcohol swab and jabbed.
Hooo, boy, that was painful. It took just about everything I had to keep myself from whining as the syringe emptied into my butt. The desire to whine was only partly from the needle. A fair bit was that simply turning like that brought on a brief pain spike from the new vaginal cavity.
Once the shot had been given, the needle removed and the spot swiped again, I rolled over onto my back as the nurse exited from the room.
Goddess, doing the dilation is soooo annoying! Why the hell would I want to stick something in there? Ewww!!!!!
If I hadn't been told rather firmly by the doctors after they'd done the unpacking the other day that it was needed, I'd have said bugger it!
I have to do this three to four times a day, for at least twenty minutes each time, and for what purpose? Not a chance in hell!
Although... the thought of Sammi using a two ended item to ravage both of us has me whining with need.
Oh, man, whoever decided to do the work down there did a rather excellent job of it. That darn stent is... No, I won't go there.
It took everything I had to keep myself from moaning out loud as I continued to plunge that darn stent into my new vagina.
Sammi showed up fifteen minutes after I finished the dilation this morning. Just seeing her made me feel good in interesting ways.
We talked for about an hour before the doctors showed up to do their daily examination of me, at which point Sammi left the room.
They had said that I might be released in a day or two if things went well. That was two days ago.
They took their time, each one squatting down a bit to get a closer look, then just the barest of touches to test physical sensitivity there.
Uh oh, I nearly jumped out of my skin when Dr. Philberts started that little bit of testing off between them. Holy crap, is it ever sensitive!
Let's just say it only got worse with each feather light touch. Male touch, female touch didn't seem to matter, they all set me on fire.
Between those darn stents and how sensitive I am becoming down there, when I actually have sex, it's going to be mind-blowing, I bet.
Once they had all checked it out rather thoroughly, Dr. Kinson nodded, then stated, "You're good to go, Will. Take care of yourself."
The other three doctors all said similar things, then they exited the room.
Sammi came in again about ten minutes later, mom was right behind her.
The paperwork was taking forever to be processed. I became tired and I guess I dozed off in the bed.
What happened at that point is something I cannot explain, as I am not sure if it was real or not.
I suppose I must tell you what happened in that odd dream / not dream.
As I've said before, more than once, likely, there are many, many hills surrounding the camp where we live.
One of those hills has been named for the tree which stands, leafless and barren, just like it has for fifty years and more.
Broken TwinOak Hill has been named that since the twin trunked white oak that stood there was ravaged and killed in a lightning storm.
I haven't the slightest idea as to how it could have happened, but I found myself standing in front of that great and broken tree.
Then, to my astonishment, a form appeared as if out of a fog, from within the split trunks of the tree, in the shape of a man.
The form eventually became clearer and soon showed itself to be dressed in the robes of a shaman, holding a ceremonial rattle?
I'm not really sure what the item was, but rattle would probably fit as well as anything else, I suppose.
The surprises were only beginning. The ghost shaman spoke, looking straight at me, "It appears the time of healing has come."
I just stared at him, the split oak, the hill on which I stood. This could not be real... could it?
I stared at him, he stared back at me. I guess he was waiting for me to acknowledge his presence.
I'm not sure how much time passed, or if any did, before I responded, "Greetings, respected one. Why are we here in this shattered place?"
I said shattered because it was quite true. Beyond the twin trunks, perhaps twenty feet out from the north one, was a deep gouge in the soil. Everyone who lived in the area knew that that gouge was where the lightning strike following the one that killed the tree hit the ground.
The gouge in the hill ran from the point of the strike deep into the ground below. Apparently, the lightning strike triggered a secondary explosion that blasted a large chunk of the hill outward, leaving it lying near that end of the hill in various piles of scattered rubble and earth.
The old ghost shaman spoke again, I could actually see him smile as he spoke, "To bring rebirth and new health to the land, young one."
"Rebirth? New health? I do not understand you, respected one," I replied.
His reply to me was odd, enigmatic even. "Touch the base of the tree, young one, and see what may happen."
I stood there thinking for a moment the old ghost shaman had lost his mind, then sighed, knelt where the trunks split and touched the tree.
I actually laid my whole left hand against the trunk just where the trunks began to split, and I swear I felt something deep within the tree.
When I pulled my hand away from it, I looked at the tree again. To my surprise, a new shoot was visible on each of the trunks.
As I stood there looking in shock at the reborn tree that had been dead for more than fifty years, more new shoots appeared.
Then the old ghost shaman spoke again, his smile even broader this time, "As I said, young one, rebirth and new health shall begin here."
I shook my head, this had to be a dream or a hallucination, it looked TOO real to my overwhelmed senses.
"You will seek me when the time comes, young one. For now, once you are at home, you will study under Simon Leapfoot the younger."
I gasped! Simon the younger was a middle-aged and powerful Ojibwa shaman who lived somewhere down by the lower lakes.
"Fear not, young one, Simon will be coming up to your camp some time soon, he knows of you from this dream or not dream."
That just confused me more. How can a dream not be a dream?
That was when I woke up to find myself lying in the hospital bed, with a single brand new shoot from a white oak tree lying in my left hand.
I was still staring at that impossible item in my hand when Sammi came blithely dancing into the room.
"The paperwork is done! We can get you out of here and on the way home as soon as you are properly dressed, Will," she giggled at me.
She noticed me staring at my hand at that point and asked me why I had the oak shoot in my hand.
I looked at her and sighed, saying, "I really don't know how to explain it, Sammi. It's... impossible, but it's here."
Mom and dad had thought ahead, bringing me some clean clothes for the trip home. I was soon dressed and ready to leave.
We left the hospital as a small group, dad took us up to the roof, then out to the pair of Bell 206's waiting for us.
We climbed into the two helicopters, Sammi, Wesley and I in one with Darren, mom and dad in the other one with Alec and Frank.
A moment later, the rotors began to whir overhead and we were soon airborne, heading for home.
To put it bluntly, I did not enjoy even a moment of the slightly more than three hour trip home, all I wanted to do was scream.
The problem was that we kept hitting crosswinds, and every time we did, the helicopter would rock a bit, causing me to shift in the seat. That caused a certain very tender part of my anatomy to rub against the surface of the seat through my jeans and underwear.
Let's just say that, by the time we landed at their home base near our camps, I was in a fair bit of pain. No, make that a lot of pain.
It took both Sammi and Wesley to help me to get out of the chopper, plus Darren who apparently had been paying attention to things. Huh, not only is he a good pilot and mechanic for these helicopters, he knows when something isn't right with a passenger he is carrying.
I wobbled toward mom and held on to her like a drowning person might cling to a life preserver, even to the point of crying on her shoulder.
I guess it's time to give you some info about my family's history.
Hmmm... I think I'll start with mom's side, as there's more of interest to tell there, well, except for one thing, I suppose.
Mom's mom was the ninth of eleven children, seven girls, four boys. One boy and one girl followed after my maternal grandmother's birth.
From what I've been told, my maternal great-grandmother was raised in a "big family" environment, albeit one that was rather rough. She was a Great Depression baby, born in July of 1934; fifth of eight children, only three reached adulthood, five dying from various illnesses.
So when she reached the age where she could marry, it was only to find that she had no interest in any of the men in that little town. It wasn't until several years after that that she met her husband to be and they set out on spawning a veritable horde of children.
She was a rough woman, a woman of her times. She drank and smoked heavily, and died from stage four lung cancer at age 53.
So my maternal grandmother grew up with a lot of other kids around her, only two in the direct family being younger.
She met her husband to be, a man returning from his third six month stint in Afghanistan after being hit in the leg by flying shrapnel.
My mom was the only child of their marriage. About a year after mom was born, my grandma had a miscarriage that landed her in a hospital ward for nearly a week. The miscarriage had also triggered a major hemorrhage, and she was told she should not have any more children.
My mom's aunts and uncles eventually settled down, some here, some in other areas of Ontario, some out of the province. Between them, the ten others produced thirty-seven children, and most of those people are adults now, having their own children.
At the last count, mom has thirty-seven cousins as I've said, and those cousins have birthed more than fifty children between them.
Mom and dad both grew up in our rotating camps, my mom being in one of the main families, dad being on the fringe of things.
I don't know anything about my dad's grandparents, except that dad has one living great-uncle, the man for whom I was named.
Dad is the middle child of three, one older sister, one younger brother. Both siblings have married, both have at least one child.
Now for the item of interest. Several years ago, I think I had just turned ten, a child who had been raised male left home when his father found out he was at least crossdressing and possibly thinking of finding some way to get access to female hormones.
The child's mother had died a few years before, barely thirty years old and killed in just a few short seconds by an aneurysm or stroke. So the child didn't have anyone else in the house that might help him, there being no other children born there before the mother's death.
Somehow the child managed to flee from the father, and using every bit of skill and lore he had, reached the Canadian border. When he spoke to the officer at the crossing he used, he mentioned that his father was likely chasing him and there were no living relatives to help him.
The customs officer became worried, especially when he saw the bruising on the back of the child's neck where the father had hit him. The customs officer asked the child if he would allow himself to be examined, adding that a woman would be present if that would help at all.
The child thought about it for a moment, then agreed. The examination was done a short time later, strictly a visual one, but that was more than enough to convince them the child would not be safe in his father's hands. Temporary asylum was granted at that time.
That was when dad's sister entered the fray. She was a social worker at the time, working out of an office in Windsor, Ontario. The boy's case landed on her desk two days after he had reached the border crossing, with notations and photos from the guards who examined him.
She was appalled at the images that she was seeing, the marks on the child's body were quite nasty. In several places on the child's back, there were scabbed areas which looked rather serious and a doctor, who had examined the child later that first evening, had stated were most likely the marks of a belt buckle hitting edge on, thus leaving significant entry wounds. Then there were the layers of bruises from the belt itself.
There were also other marks that looked whiplike? The doctor's report stated they were likely from switches stripped to the bare wood.
The doctor also stated that there were at least a dozen old fractures in various locations, he noted most of those were likely defensive injuries.
Aunt Jocelyn was in front of a court judge within three hours of seeing the file. It didn't take more than a brief moment to convince the judge that the child was at very high risk if he was returned home and for the judge to further grant an order to provide interim care for the child.
Aunt Jocelyn stayed on top of that case for three months. The child was lucky in one sense that he ended up in a home where he was treated well, but there was no building of long term trust there, and it quickly became evident that he didn't feel safe in revealing himself to them.
Aunt Jocelyn checked in on him, usually once a week during that time period, and this is where things took another turn. For some reason, the child felt better, safer, whenever Aunt Jocelyn was present, and he eventually asked if he could be placed with her instead.
She went before the judge again, this time on the Tuesday following that meeting, and they talked for more than an hour. The end result was that the child would be transferred to her custody on the following weekend, giving him time to say his goodbyes to the foster family.
To say that that farewell was a tearful time would be an understatement. They had kept him safe, even if they had never truly known him.
The temporary custody slowly changed to a permanent arrangement about six months later, when she and her husband adopted him.
A few months after that, her office downsized and she was out of work.
It took about six weeks of living off saved income before someone from the band up north contacted her, offering employment.
She jumped on it, informing her husband and within two weeks, they were settled in a small but comfy house in the current camp.
That child, my cousin Ambrose/Amber, came out within days of arriving as being two-spirited and was happy to live either way at any time.
Aunt Jocelyn became our little community's social worker/counsellor, helping anyone that needed it.
I guess that gives you a fair amount of the history of my family. I'm sorry if I didn't cover everything, I have quite a lot of relatives.
Well, as I said before, I was holding on to mom for dear life when I felt two more pairs of arms wrapping themselves around me. A quick glance over my right shoulder revealed Aunt Jocelyn, another glance over the left shoulder showed my cousin Amber was there.
In a way, I'm really glad Amber was there, because I needed to talk to someone who might understand what I was experiencing. Now, Amber is a young adult, about five years older than me, so she had been at her university in Toronto when she found out what was happening.
She had actually come back here, even though her summer classes were still in session, to be here for me. That just made me cry even more.
I suppose about another ten or fifteen minutes passed before the watery eyes stopped leaking and I could face them all.
We talked for a few more minutes before I felt like I could walk from where we were over to the cars that were waiting for us. I rode with mom and dad, Sammi and Wesley were sharing the back seat with me. Amber and Aunt Jocelyn, plus a few others, had their own cars.
Once we were back at the camp, I nodded to Amber and the two of us walked off to a spot with a park bench under a big old maple tree.
I knew Amber's history, heck, everyone in the camp knew it within a week of her having arrived here nearly seven years ago.
"Amber, if you didn't already know, the doctors had to remove my penis, as it was too badly damaged to function, and they fashioned a vagina using some of the colon tissue. That bit may be female, but I'm still Will up here and here," I took a moment to point at my heart and my head. "But I had this really weird dream recently," I described the dream/not dream to her, "And I feel that I will need to be female sometimes."
Now that might not have been the best way to start a conversation, but if anyone could understand me at all at that point, it would be Amber.
Amber and I talked for nearly two hours before mom yelled at me to get my butt home if I wanted to have my supper. I was up and running like a shot! You can call me late for just about anything and I won't care. The one exception to that is meals; I hate missing even one.
The next ten days passed fairly quickly, I spent most of my time either with Sammi or with Amber, sometime both of them together. There was a lot of discussion about my feelings and what I had experienced in that dream/not dream, but no firm conclusions were reached.
A week after I returned home, Amber had to return to Toronto to continue her summer sessions or forfeit the possible passing grade. We promised to keep in contact with each other, a promise I intended to keep. It wouldn't be hard, we'd been in close contact for almost two years. By close contact, I mean we had each other's emails and I had her cell phone number, although I would only use that in an emergency.
Shortly after two PM on the tenth day after my return, a strange car parked near our small house, then an older man stepped out of it.
I had seen pictures here and there of Simon Leapfoot the younger. He was now here in the flesh, my training was about to begin.
I stood there and stared at him as Simon Leapfoot the younger looked around the small community, then noticed that I was there.
There was grace and confidence in his every step, the man knew the world around him in ways that I didn't yet.
He stopped in front of me, noting my interest in him, and spoke, "I am Simon Leapfoot the younger, I'm looking to meet with Will Tinker."
I nodded at him, showing a weak smile as I said, "That would be me, Mr. Leapfoot," then waited to see what would happen.
He looked at me again, nodded as if he had seen something of interest, then stated, "I want to hear everything. Speak."
The voice he used on that final word was nothing less than a total command, and I began to recount recent events. I started from the time that I fell, told him about waking up in the hospital in Thunder Bay, then about the dream/not dream and my eventual journey home.
He listened intently as I spoke, only asking for me to expand on what I had said about the dream/not dream.
At that point, I decided what the heck, and told him everything about it, including that I had awoken with a white oak shoot in my left hand.
He nodded and actually smiled as he said, "So you have power, which can be good, but little actual skill in using it, which is not good."
We ended up talking intensely about that dream/not dream, to the exclusion of just about everything else, for over two hours.
At one point, he led me into a nearby copse in the woods all around us and asked me to just stand there and watch.
The two of us stood there, just off a fair sized trail through the woods for what seemed like hours, maybe longer, before anything of note occurred. A young doe and two fawns came along a side trail, then turned a short distance from us to go toward a nearby spring.
The strangest part of that experience was that the doe saw us, yet acted as if we were not there. It had me seriously confused.
Simon and I had remained quiet as the doe and fawns approached, then took the second trail that led to the spring. I was quite surprised at just how quiet he could be. I've lived in these woods all of my life, yet my briefest movements made far more noise than any of his.
We continued to stand there, again it seemed like a very long time went by.
Then we spotted a family of five beavers that were making their way through the woods toward one of the small lakes a short distance away. Most of our camps were situated around a large lake or reservoir, with dozens of smaller lakes scattered all around the bigger one.
I shrugged as the beavers passed us, but they seemed to be more focused on where they were going than on what was close to them. I can't really say, but I got this little feeling that for some reason the beavers knew we wouldn't harm them in any way, so they just ignored us.
We waited again, then watched as a white tail buck followed the same path as the doe and the two fawns. Rutting season was still a few months away, but we could see the horns growing in just with a quick look. The buck was fairly big for a white tail, it might have a righteous rack.
Don't mind me saying things like that, I sometimes use words or expressions for their humour effect, even if that often fails.
Anyway, this large buck followed the trail the doe and fawns had taken earlier, and like them, was soon gone from our direct sight.
The buck had passed from sight for only a few minutes when I spied the doe and fawns returning down the trail the buck had taken.
Once again, the doe looked straight at us, then stepped on at a sprightly pace, leading her little ones down the side trail.
Simon and I stayed out there as the sun slowly descended, and we only left the woods when it became difficult to see without extra light. I suppose we could have stayed in there longer by going back in with long lasting flashlights, but Simon said that was enough for today.
We headed into the small building where my parents, Wesley and I all lived. It was split into three rooms, none of them very large. The main area was the communal area, kitchen, dining room and living room all in one, including a 36" TV with a set of rabbit ears sticking out above it.
Mom had made one or her delicious meals, a stew that had been sitting over the small hearth all day. It turned out to be venison, one of the hunters had gone out two days ago and snagged a rather young buck that was wandering aimlessly around in the woods.
The buck had been acting a bit odd, but a quick check revealed nothing obviously wrong with the animal. On the off chance that there might be something wrong with the brain, i.e., a seizure, stroke, aneurysm, they made sure to leave that behind, burying it deep in the forest ground.
Sometimes the forest will claim its own creatures when their time has come. Sometimes it leads those creatures to hunters like ours.
The hunter had not taken chances, but had called Alan Quince and had him test several portions of the animal as a precaution. Alan had run some tests through his rather limited medical gear, specifically a rather expensive microscope that had 1000x magnification.
Benny, the hunter, had waited in the outer area of the tiny building housing the medical equipment while Alan checked the slides. Alan wanted to be careful, so he checked each slide three or four times. Eventually, he reported to Benny that he didn't see anything that could be harmful.
So Benny had brought some of the newly caught venison to mom, who had decided that some of it would be used for today's stew.
Simon joined us for the meal, talking quietly with me and my dad. He said I had done fairly well that afternoon, then went on to say that that was due to the fact that I had done what I had been told by him to do, rather than doing what I thought might be best at the time.
Let's just say that dad was impressed. He laughed and said that I had always had a feeling for the woods around here.
When Simon asked him about that, dad mentioned the time I had stood in the woods behind our home and with little more than what looked like an occasional distracted glance, had then trotted off into the woods, leading dad and several others to a rabid skunk, which they killed.
Dad mentioned a few other times like that, and I swear, I saw Simon smile.
I'd have to say that seeing that smile almost put me off wanting to eat. It was the smile of a shark about to have its dinner of live human.
The stew was quite good, one of mom's better efforts, and by the time the meal had ended, there was nothing left in the pot.
After we had had breakfast the following day, Simon had me lead him in a different direction.
This time, it seemed that we would be looking for specific plants, herbs and such, that could be used by a competent medic or chemist. Simon led me around, pointing out a wide assortment of plants, naming off their properties and medical uses, if there were any.
Willow bark was one that I had known about for a long time, thanks to a science show I saw several years ago when dad was dozing one day.
Simon pointed out sprigs of wild chamomile, echinacea, feverfew, mint and yarrow just to name a few. He then went on to talk about how these plants could be used in various ways for a variety of health issues, and suggested we should make room for a fairly large herb garden.
He also stated that we would need to have a set of drying racks, or even better, something similar in a well-ventilated warm room.
He lectured me for hours that day about the various plants we had seen, their uses, their growing seasons, how to prepare them, etc.
The day wasn't all that warm, we're quite a bit closer to the Arctic Circle and Hudson's Bay is close enough to have an effect on the weather. I suppose it might be similar to what the folks down south call "lake effect". I honestly couldn't tell you, I don't know about that stuff.
Any way, he grilled me this way, that way, this other way, that other way and the other other way about these plants. It was exhausting, and yet I hadn't done a darn thing except walk a little now and then while he lectured. I was pretty wiped out by the time we returned to the house.
I figure it was because I was out there all day and we hadn't had any lunch. If I'd known we would be that long, I would have packed something to take along with us for lunch. Ah, well, it's no sense worrying about the barn door being open after all the horses have run away.
We relaxed over another nice supper meal, this one being bison steaks someone had sent to dad from somewhere down in the States.
The steaks were quite good, grilled rather nicely, seasoned within a hair of perfection. A spoonful of steak sauce was the final touch.
My steak wasn't as big as the ones dad or Simon were eating, but still big enough to make a good meal. Wesley's and mom's were like mine.
Sammi showed up a short while after the meal had ended. Within moments, I was following her along another trail within the woods.
There was a small clearing about midway between our camp and one of the many small nearby lakes. We headed for that clearing.
Sammi and I stayed there until the sun dipped below the horizon talking about the last few days, then headed back into the camp.
It was the day after I chatted with Sammi in that little clearing that the next odd event occurred.
What made it even odder is that Simon Leapfoot the younger was present when it happened, and kept a very close eye on me.
What was it, you ask? Well, to be blunt, another of those dreams/not dreams like the one I had experienced in the hospital several days ago.
Ayup, another one of those, all right. Simon had led me over to one of the smaller lakes nearby, where we sat and watched the water.
I saw four or five different types of fish jumping here and there as we watched, then the dream/not dream hit me, and I was lost in it.
In this second dream/not dream, I saw that same old ghost shaman, except this time he appeared standing on a small islet in that tiny lake.
I don't think the islet was more than five paces wide in any direction, yet there he stood, on the only dry ground within the lake itself.
He pointed as a fish leaped out of the water, then plummeted back into its depths. And pointed again as a different type jumped. Then a third time as yet another type came out of the water. I sat there, entranced, wondering why he was pointing at the various fish, then it hit me.
He wasn't pointing at the fish themselves, but in the direction they were from the small islet where he stood. The first had been to the east, the same direction as where Simon and I were relaxing by the edge of this particular lake. The second was to the south, the third to the west.
He pointed two more times, the first being to the north, which completed the four directions, then up. That one confused me for a while. It wasn't until I recalled something I had seen about a Wiccan rite, where a priest/ess called the directions, then up, adding Spirit to the rite.
I sat there, musing on this as I continued to watch the old shaman standing on an islet that I couldn't remember being there before today.
It became even odder, though, as the old ghost shaman pointed to each of the directions again, then up once more and vanished.
But the weird stuff hadn't ended yet. Just moments after he vanished, I felt something, a rumble from below the lake, and turned to warn Simon we needed to move, only to see Simon wasn't there. I gasped when a very interesting looking fish splatted on the ground in front of me.
That was when this dream/not dream ended. I picked up the tail of a fish that, as far as I could remember, was well beyond rare. The fish? A coelacanth. I was flabbergasted, as I had been studying various creatures in biology a few months ago and to the best of my knowledge, today's examples of coelacanths live in a narrow area either off the east coast of Africa or in the waters around a specific part of Indonesia.
The coelacanth has long been called the dino fish, as a live specimen was not discovered until 1938. They had been thought to have been dead since the time of the dinosaurs, roughly 65 million years ago, hence the nickname I mentioned and their appearance is quite unusual.
As noted in various places, they are the last remaining representatives of a widespread family of lobe-finned fishes. An adult coelacanth can reach lengths of six feet or more and weigh around 200 pounds. They are covered in a thick, scaly "armour" and can live for 60 years or more.
That was when it was Simon's turn to gasp as he saw what I was holding. "Good god? Where did that come from, Will?" he yelped.
"I'm not really sure, Simon. Remember I told you the other day about having had a dream/not dream?" I asked him.
He nodded, and I continued speaking, "I just experienced another one, Simon. The lake wouldn't have one of these in it, that's for sure. Like the other time that I had one of these dreams/not dreams, I was 'given' something, that fish, to prove the dream/not dream took place."
He looked at the fish, then asked me, "What do you mean, this fish wouldn't come from the lake?"
"The two species that exist now are only found in two places, off the east coast of Africa and in the waters near Sulawesi, Indonesia."
He still looked confused by what I was saying, so I told him more, "This is a coelacanth, Simon, they are quite rare. Part of that may be the fact that they live quite a long ways down, being bottom dwellers, and they wander along the ocean floor, eating other fish and cephalopods."
He took a long, hard look at me before he asked, "You're sure about that, Will?"
I nodded and replied, "Sure enough that I'll show you on my computer once we're back in the camp and can use the camp school network."
Having said that, I pulled out a small but sharp knife and cut the fish open. I removed the whole inside of it, tossing that all into the lake. I doubted any of it would last for long, there are several varieties of fish in these lakes that will eat darn near anything if they can gulp it down.
If the fish couldn't eat it, the flesh of the coelacanth would eventually decompose and then dissolve into the earth at the lake's bottom.
Once all the flesh had been removed and tossed into the lake, I spent several minutes rinsing out the innards of the coelacanth. You won't catch people eating these creatures, as their flesh is filled with oils, urea, wax esters and other compounds that give it a very foul taste.
When I had finished rinsing out the very large fish, I accepted a plastic bag Simon had produced from somewhere and stuffed the skin in it. You might think I was crazy for taking a skin of something like that, but it would be a very visible, blatant proof of what had happened, eh?
Simon was quite shaken after I had explained the presence of the fish to him, and stated that we were done for the day.
The walk back to the camp was not all that long, perhaps a little over a mile along woodland trails, so it took about twenty minutes to get there.
Several people in the camp enquired about what was in the bag, and their expressions ranged from shock to outright wonder when I told them.
As I had said I would do, I left the skin in the bag outside of our home, then led Simon into the room I shared with my brother Wesley.
I turned on my system, waited a few minutes for it to get up to speed, then used my password and logged into the school network. Once I was in there, I quickly pulled up about half a dozen pages with information on coelacanths and let Simon read them.
I guess it must be odd on those occasions where the student teaches the teacher. It must happen fairly often out in the wide world, hmm?