Authors: Cindi Jones
I stayed the night in an old motel.
I watched TV until quite late. I was excited to say the least.
I showered before I turned in and looked at my nude self in the mirror. It was disgusting.
Before the vile reached my throat, I soon realized that I would never have to face this image again. I felt peaceful with that knowledge.
I had a hard time falling asleep.
But eventually I did. And I had my last wet dream.
I got up and cleaned up. Hormones were to have diminished this. For some p
eople, the chemical castration happens quickly
.
That never happened for me.
All of my adult life I had this problem. For all of my adult life, I had stains on my garments, my “Mormon underwear”.
I had been on hormone therapy for over two years. While my facial features softened and my breasts had grown some, the libido was still as strong as ever.
How shameful I had felt. How wicked I must have been.
It would soon be over.
I sat in the waiting area of Dr. Biber’s office.
O
ld style furniture right out of the early 60’s
filled the room
.
I don’t think that it had been painted since
the furniture was made
.
I was the only one there.
Dr. Biber had been performing two to four surgeries a week prior to his accident.
He had at
most 4 patients come to see him in any week.
His office was merely a formality.
He probably didn’t even need it as I pondered ways in which he could get rid of the expense.
Dr. Biber owned nothing.
He carried no malpractice insurance. No one could sue him for any reason. He had nothing to sue for.
I had heard that all of his property had been transferred to his wife
’s name
. I wondered if he had ever a patient who wanted to sue?
As I waited, I could see Dr. Biber through his office door reviewing a file.
“That’s Cindi’s file, I betchya” said
Squirrel
. “I’m sure that it is” I said to myself.
I noticed another bender quietly enter the reception area. She approached the reception desk.
I didn’t pay much attention but I quickly realized that
she was arguing with the receptionist
.
“But please, I have to see Dr. Biber”
she said
.
“You should have contacted our office before you came to Trinidad” warned the receptionist.
“But I have nothing to return to. I have nothing.”
How sad I felt for her. I had seen so many individuals decimate their lives in trying to deal with this thing. Normal folk have no clue just how strong the feelings and drives are. I could never understand why there were so many of us for such a freakish thing to happen.
She
walked out the door forcing a weak smile my way as she left. I could not smile for her. She was in anguish. She had
nowhere
to go
with no job
. I wondered what would become of her. She would waste her life away somewhere compelled to seek an impossible dream. It was indeed a morbid conclusion on my part.
Dr. Biber called me in. He confirmed with me each document he required as he picked it out of the folder and stacked them on his desk. “
Cindi, it looks like you are ready. I just need to ask you one more time. Are you sure that this is what you want to do?”
“Yes Dr
. Biber, I have never been more sure
of anything in my life. I’ve wanted this wish to come true every day of my life.”
He then described the procedure in shocking detail.
This conversation would make most men weep and leave
them
with their hands covering their crotch, I thought. His descriptions became colored imagery of the death of the maleness that I had carried all of my life. I smiled at him as he concluded. “Yes Cindi that is the clincher. I have had a few back out after that discussion,” he said.
I signed some paperwork for the standard things and a legal document acknowledging the fact that I would not sue him after the surgery.
I’m sure that the document itself wouldn’t stand a chance in a courtroom.
There were no witnesses and it had not been notarized.
I realized that it was the final warning I would receive.
Dr. Biber then chatted with me a bit. He told me how he had started many years ago with a patient who had come to him begging for the surgery.
He had pioneered the techniques he still used.
I asked him how many of these procedures he had done. I don’t recall the number but sort of performed a rough estimate of how many of “us” there were in the world to have come this far. I do recall that I said to him that there were probably less than 2000 of us in the world at that time.
“I don’t know, Cindi,” he told me. But you are definitely a pioneer. It is extremely rare.”
He gave me directions to the hospital along with what I would need to check in. I went there forthwith.
The nurse walked me back to the special rooms where only benders were allowed to rest and recover.
Only one had preceded me the week before. I would be Dr. Biber’s second surgery after his accident.
The nurse
escorted
me
into the room where the other patient was recovering.
She smiled at me and introduced herself.
I shook her hand and introduced myself.
“Now let me take you to your room” the nurse said as she hurried me along with her hand. My room
was just
next door.
It was a standard room with two empty beds
. “There will be someone joining you in two days dear. Which bed would you like?” she asked.
“I’d like the one by the window. I’d like to see outside” I replied.
“Okay, we will be back in an hour or so.
We would like you to take a shower and get in bed,” she explained. “Do I have time to talk to the woman next door?” I asked. “Of course you do dear. Take the time you need,” she replied.
I only had a chance to talk to my new friend that one time. She too had been very worried about her urethra.
She had told me how delighted she was when she was able to urinate 4 days after the surgery.
Before then, she had a catheter run up to her bladder. She
was
leaving the next morning.
I would very likely never see her again.
I was not given dinner. I was given a laxative. I was familiar with the routine. I had been through it many times. They didn’t want to clean up an unintended mess during surgery.
A nurse’s aid came in to shave me. She announced that she had been doing this ever since Dr. Biber started doing these surgeries. She talked about many of her patients and how so many had come back to say hi, or written her letters. She was very good at what she did. She kept talking and keeping me interested as she quickly shaved me from my belly button down almost to my knees. She was so talkative that I hardly had a chance to become embarrassed. Yes, she was very good. When she was finished she coated me in iodine. I must have looked like a block of Neapolitan ice cream.
I watched television until the Star Spangled Banner played, signaling the end of the broadcast day. I checked the other stations to see if there was anything else on. All I saw was a test pattern.
I turned off the television and fished out a Robert Ludlum book, one of two that I had brought along with me to wile away the time. I liked Ludlum. The plots of some of his stories were quite incredulous but his books were always a quick read.
They were entertaining and a great way to live an adventure.
“It’s strange isn’t it? I’ve always wanted to be a girl and I’m turning into a tomboy,” I mused to myself.
I did finally fall asleep and I woke up only in time to attend to the restroom before they took me to surgery. They brought a gurney in and spirited me down the hallway. I wish that I could describe the excitement and anticipation that I felt. I had some pretty tough times in my life as I recalled. I had some extremely wonderful moments as I remembered the birth of my children and spending time with them.
This would be a very important milestone and I was overwhelmed with joy.
“Now Cindi, this is your very last chance to say no,” Dr Biber said looking down on my face. I could see only his eyes. A surgical mask covered most of his face.
“Dr. Biber” I started
,
“cut it off!” I nearly shouted with a grin on my face.
His eyes winked at me acknowledging a lifetime of desires about to be fulfilled.
The anesthesiologist did his work and within seconds, I was out.
“Cindi… Cindi” the nurse kept saying trying to capture my attention. I was coming out of a deep sleep.
I had no thoughts, no demons chasing me. “Cindi are you alright? She asked. I had only one thought to deal with. My feet were very cold.
“My
feet are cold” I said. She carefully wrapped a blanket about my feet in the recovery room. And then I fell back asleep.
I don’t know how long the surgery took. I did not know how long I had been back in my room. Sleep was restful. There were no dreams. There was no confusion. I just slept. And then I was suddenly awake.
I opened my eyes and was shocked with my surroundings. What was I doing here? What had happened to me?
What was wrong? And then I slipped my hand down to my crotch. It was bandaged, but it was smooth.
IT was gone and I fell pleasantly back into blissful sleep.
My supper was delivered to me a little late that evening.
I had been “occupied” for the better part of the day.
The food wasn’t bad and I was definitely hungry. I had the TV going as I drifted in and out of sleep. I was
n’t just
hungry. I was famished. But I could only eat half of what was there. I felt satisfied and the tray was later retrieved.
Trish called me.
“So Cindi, how ya doin?”
“I’m very well, thank you,” I replied. I don’t know of anyone who responds with the answer that no one really wants to hear. It’s a greeting it is not a genuine request inquiring for your state of health.
Besides, it is grammatically correct to say that you are very well.
“Squirrel, shut up,” I said to myself.
“So how did everything go?” Trish questioned with a ringing singing tone.
“I, ah… I guess it went good.
Mr. Johnson has left the building,” I replied smugly. I heard a grin form on the other end of the call.
“You can’t see a smile on a phone call,” said
Squirrel
.
“I can see anything I want to see
Squirrel
,” I said to myself.
We talked briefly. Trish could tell that I was still in the late stages of recovery.
I went to sleep early that night. I slept soundly with no dreams.
I awoke to meet my new roommate who was receiving the tour. I introduced myself and then I ate breakfast. I don’t remember her name. She was slightly smarter than a rock but didn’t quite have the IQ of a piece of lumber I mused.
For the remainder of my time there, this woman would never shut up as she primped her hair, put on make up, and talked on the phone. It was
non-stop
.
Some of it was hilarious.
M
ostly it was a nuisance that was easily pushed aside.
Every 10 minutes of my waking hours, I slid my hand across a bandaged landscape of smoothness.
I watched TV and read my books. The nurse’s aids checked me often and emptied my bladder bag. The first visit to the powder room to do paper work was very painful.
The nurse’s aid helped me get in and situated and was very kind enough to help clean up. I was too proud for that to happen.
I
washed my hands and light headily returned to my bed. Trish called every day. I was thankful that someone was checking up with my progress.
Midweek, the bender I met in Dr. Biber’s office visited me. She introduced herself as Caitlyn. Caitlyn was very sweet and had been down a familiar path.
She had come to Trinidad, found a job, and was trying to save up enough money to pay for everything. It was nice to have a loving face by my bedside to help pass the time. She came to see me every day after her job to see me.
I appreciated her time she shared with me.
My dressings were repacked on the second day after surgery. How familiar was that feeling albeit in a different place to surgeries I had to fix the crater on the other side of my body. But this time it was somehow different, less painful perhaps.
On the fourth day the catheter was removed. We were going to see if I could pass liquid. It was the single most worrisome thing on my mind at the time. Within an hour, I succeeded. There were no problems. I was ecstatic.
I was instructed on how to use the stent. The nurse’s aid extracted this device from her cart. It was a long plastic tube filled with a sponge.
“Now you take this kinda weird thing and squish it in your hands to make it fit. Then you stick it up inside yourself like this,” she pushed it up gently inside of me.
“And then you let it sit there for 15 minutes or so.”
It really hu
r
t.
“When you get home, and after you heal, you will need to buy a hard one. You can get them at most adult book stores.
They are called dildos,” she explained.