Tranny True Story: I Am Woman
The search for a real identity could be a difficult road. Everyone goes through it ”while some may have been lost along the way” others find their ways to gain the freedom to be themselves.
http://thestar.com.my/lifestyle/story.asp?file=/2007/6/27/lifefocus/18129054&sec\
A transsexual takes readers through a sex change operation that opened up a whole new world for her.
FOR the longest time of my life, I was always afraid of being found out for who I really am. Back in the 1970s, the status quo of gays and transsexuals was somehow linked to the notion of mental instability, and that was how I started to think I had an abnormality while I was growing up.
During my developmental years, I tried to escape the identity crisis that was haunting me but I could not let go of the duality in my life – male in outward appearance but a female inside. The answers that I got from the adults were usually very vague or the conclusion was always the same. They told me it was only a phase that would eventually pass, and I believed them.
But as the years passed, I remained the same, so I resorted to praying as faithfully as I could always asking the same question: Why am I this way? Denial became part of my ritual as I tried to fit into society. I almost gave up on myself.
Then another avenue opened up for me when I took on the job of a lecturer in a private establishment. I was among young people who were searching for their identity – very much like what I was doing when I was their age.
It was at this time that I began to understand that everyone goes through a series of identity crisis in the process of growing up. The only problem is, once we find out who we are, would we be able to accept ourselves without discrimination?
So as I spent my days nurturing the young, they gave me the insight that enabled me to embrace my true nature without reservations. The battle within was the hardest to fight but the courage I found from the people around me, and the books I read, inspired me to be the best that I can be.
After struggling for a few more years and trying to block everything out, I finally came full circle and realized there was no running away from myself.
By 2002 I was tired of scampering around and beguiling myself with false pretensions. Once and for all I decided to take the first step to set my life straight with corrective surgery. I started by calling up the NGOs, hoping for guidance, but I hit another low point in my life when they said they couldn’t help me.
Fortunately, the internet helped me locate a hospital (aesthetic institute, as it is called) in a neighbouring country. After spending half my life in abnegation, I was now prepared to make a final commitment.
My previous sessions with a local psychiatrist and a gynaecologist helped me in acquiring proper documentation for the gender reassignment surgery. I did more research on the surgeon and wrote to his past patients to get a better understanding of what to expect. His reputation surpassed all others, and he was highly recommended and respected in the medical field.
When I arrived at his office, the surgeon gave me a little introduction to the procedure, complete with pictures. I felt weak at the knees just looking at the pictures, but he was brief and thorough. Technicalities aside, the surgery basically involves a penile skin inversion technique to create a labia major and minor, a clitoris and a neovagina. The entire surgery would take about three to four hours.
Breast augmentation could be done under two hours. The preferred implant is the silicone shell with either silicone gel or saline filling. Since I was not exactly in the pink of health, I opted to have both surgery in two sessions, with a six-month break in between.
The most amazing thing about the surgery was the efficiency and professionalism of it all. I woke up feeling as though it was a dream. The only certainty was the bandage between my legs. All the years of worry and fear were suddenly over in a matter of hours.
The only pain that bothered me after the surgery was the sharp electrical spasm that stung like an insect bite. Other than that, I had to sit sideways for a few months until the swelling went down.
What was more important was the aftercare of douching (cleaning with Betadine solution) and dilating (to maintain the depth and width with a dilator) to keep the vagina from scar contracture. This post-operative care can take from a few months to years, depending on the patient’s recovery rate.
My worst experience of the surgery was the swollen stump at the opening of the shortened urethra that prevented me from passing urine. I was kept on the urinary catheter for a longer period than usual.
In the two weeks that I spent at the hospital, I met some wonderful people who were going through similar reconstructive surgery. Everyone of us shared the unspoken joy we had been bottling inside. For once in my life, I felt like I was not alone.
Although my second surgery was less complicated and took a shorter time, my arms ached terribly due to the incisions under the armpits.
My one-week stay this time wasn’t sufficient for me to recover. I took another two weeks to get back on my feet.
During the six-month break between the two surgeries, I took the time to confide in my family and friends about what I had gone through. This was also to prepare them for the transformation which I was anticipating.
In truth, I couldn’t say that I was much of a man to begin with because emotionally I had never felt that way about myself. It would be misleading to claim my physicality for the sake of categorization.
Every parent is afraid of what his children might turn out to be. But if children are not given a chance to be who they really are, they may have a hard and bitter life ahead.
Ironically, just as I found my true identity, the law in Malaysia refuses to accept it. So for what it’s worth, with or without legal recognition, I am still glad that I have become the woman that I am.
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