Someone once asked us all in the
alt.eunuchs.questions newsgroup about our feelings before and during the
castration procedure. So many of us had
described the surgical procedure itself and the after effects, but how were we
feeling and what were we thinking the day before castration, and the morning
before we went through with it?
This page contains a journal of
my week in Philadelphia PA when I received my castration by Dr. Spector in
April of 1999. Not only do I describe
the things that I experienced, but also my feelings as these things took
place. In addition to getting castrated,
I had some other special life experiences during this week.
*Dr. Spector and Sherry are the
only true names I have used on this page.
I used fictitious names for all other persons that I mention here to
protect their identities. Everyone that
I wrote about here is a very special person that I met and interacted with
during this very special week of my life.
Today was the day that I was to
arrive in Philadelphia by plane. I have
been looking forward to getting castration so much. I have had some fears about things going
wrong during or immediately after the procedure, but I realize that I must go
through with this in order to get what I really want: impotence, serenity, and
the elimination of the horrid male hormones from my body.
I had first called Spector eight
weeks ago, and had set my castration appointment for April 13th, now only two
days away. I had gone to great lengths
to assure that this trip would be a successful one. Without delay I had provided Spector the
number of my home town pharmacy so he could prescribe the Cipro antibiotics he
wanted me to start taking two days before the surgery, and I had obtained these
in early March. I had chosen to set my
appointment on a Tuesday so I could arrive in Philadelphia two days before, and
set my departure for the Sunday after. I
had considered returning back home earlier, but the airlines would have charged
me $800 more for my plane tickets, and even with the increased lodging costs I
would still save hundreds by staying for a whole week.
I arrived at the airport in
Fayetteville AR a little earlier than I needed to, and I waited with the other
passengers on my flight. I thought about
these others as I waited. Many of them
were visiting relatives and perhaps some were on business trips. None of them had any idea why I was among
them today, and I could only imagine how they would react if they found
out. I was on a very secret personal
mission.
At last we boarded our plane,
and we took off. As the plane lifted
into the air, I thought about how I was going to
return without my testicles!
I had to make a connection in
Memphis TN, and just before takeoff I got very nervous about a less than minor
occurrence. My plane taxied down the
runway, in line behind several other planes, but before we took off my plane
moved out of line and seemed to wait on the side. What now?
I had wanted castration so much, and I had worried that anything might
prevent me from getting my orchiectomy.
I had set my flight date for two days before my surgery date to ensure
that flight delays could not keep me out of Philadelphia on Tuesday, but this
brief delay still had me quite worried until the pilot informed us that we were
delaying our takeoff for about ten minutes because of airport delays caused by
stormy weather in Philadelphia. Soon we
were on our way again, and my worries eased.
I usually get a window seat
because I love to look at the scenery below, and this helped take my mind off
of my upcoming surgery. But the skies
clouded up over eastern Kentucky, the clouds were too bright to look at, and my
mind drifted back to what I was about to go through. Was this doctor going to work out? Would I have heavy bleeding or
infection? What about osteoporosis? I knew that I would never seek testosterone,
but I also knew that I might never be able to obtain estrogen. In two days I would throw my body off on a tangent,
for once I eliminated the testosterone my body would take a course different
from what it would have done if I were to do nothing. But one thing was certain. If I didn't go through with this, I was going
to be miserable and unhappy with testosterone until I did get castrated, or if
I never did it at all then I would feel this way for the rest of my life. Life after castration would not be perfect,
but it would be quite an improvement over the path that I had been on for the
first 31 years of my life. The surgery
would last for only a short time, even if something did go wrong, but the
benefits would last my lifetime. If my
body was going off on a tangent, my life would be returning to its proper
course.
The weather in my life ahead of
me appeared as stormy as the weather below me outside, but I was determined to
get through this storm because I wanted to go to the place beyond the
storm. Now the plane began the descent
through the clouds. Our pilot did a
remarkable job of getting us through the solid cloud layer, for it did not seem
very rough at all. Let's hope my surgery
goes just as smoothly.
Both of my parents had been born
and raised in Philadelphia, and I had dozens of non-immediate relatives here,
but none of them knew that I had come to their city. They must not know what I am up to. I visit my grandmother, aunt, uncles, and
cousins in Phoenix almost every year, and in courtesy I always call my mother
after a flight to let her know that I arrived safely, but this time I called
nobody. My mom doesn't even know that I
am on any trip, and I'm not about to let her know what I'm doing now. I was entirely on my own here.
I caught a taxicab and rode to
the bed and breakfast place where I would reside during this very special week
of my life. The driver zoomed up to
85MPH on the wet and slick road. Please,
I want to get there alive! He was
awfully inquisitive as he drove, and I didn't dare tell him that I was about to
have my testicles cut off, so I had to make up some story about seeing some
friends that I had known long ago. I was
worried that he might figure out I was doing something very unusual, but he
seemed to accept my story.
We passed by an inner city
school that reminded me of the movie 'Lean On Me', and then plunged into the
maze of inner city streets. I had been
warned not to rent a car because parking would be impossible. Now I was glad that I hadn't, because every
street had solid rows of cars parallel parked tightly, my goodness, how do
these people manage to park like that with the traffic so busy, even if there
ever was a parking space available? I
live in a town of only 2000 people and I was not used to this kind of traffic
at all. There were bars on every window,
and people locked up everything around here.
These same iron bars fenced in the local park. EEK!
What am I getting myself into? I
hope I get through this without getting mugged or worse.
The driver commented about the
neighborhood being dangerous, and that only added to my apprehension. He must have been considering moving away
from here, because he asked me about my hometown, what the people were like,
and the cost of living. Finally we
arrived at my destination, and I was relieved that the driver tarried until I
was inside the building.
The bed and breakfast place that
I stayed at was only three blocks from Dr. Spector's office. To protect the identity of the person that
runs this bed and breakfast, I will call her Vicki*. I stayed in one of two rooms on the third
floor, both of which had a shared bathroom.
When I was trying to find a place to stay, someone had referred me to
Vicki and told me she was gay friendly.
I had already told Vicki on the phone that I was coming to see Dr.
Spector, so now as she worked in the other room she asked me about why I was
seeking castration.
Up to this point in time I had
never trusted anybody with my gender issues.
My stepfather was OK whenever he noticed me doing anything sissy, but
otherwise I had had only negative experiences whenever discussing my issues with
anybody. The last time I had ever told
anybody was in 1991 when I told a pastor of a fundamentalist church, and he had
responded by laying hands on me, rebuking 'the homosexual spirit' in me, and
then putting me through an exorcist session two days later. In my 31 years of life, no good had ever come
of my disclosing about myself to anybody.
I had already talked with Dr.
Spector on the phone about my gender, but Vicki was the first person I had
talked with in person who kindly responded to me and accepted who and what I
was. She told me of many others like me
who had transitioned to their desired gender and had transformed enough that
nobody could tell that they had ever been born as the other sex. I was already seeing possibilities after my
castration, and for the first time in my life there was someone who accepted
and liked the real me.
I still had to confront my fear
of the neighborhood. Dr. Spector's
office was just a few minutes walk away, and Vicki assured me that I would be
OK outside because there were always many people walking though the
neighborhood even in the late evening.
Besides, crime rates had fallen since the early 1990s. I had forgotten to call Dr. Spector before I
left home, so I felt that I really needed to see him this evening.
Soon I was knocking on the
doctor's door, and I immediately recognized the face I had seen on his
website. I had made it! The doctor was elderly, but I had already
known that from reading about his long work history on his website. The doctor took me into his office, and I saw
the table where I would have my castration done. I was concerned and disappointed that this
was a home office setting and not like a doctor's office at all. Besides the table there were two desks and
several cabinets of stuff in the room.
Is this going to work out? But
where else was I to get castrated?
Hundreds of others had obtained what I wished for right here in this
room, and they had made it through OK. I
knew of nowhere else and nobody else, and I could either go through
with this and get what I've always wanted in less than 48 hours, or I
could live indefinitely with testosterone in my body. I choose to take my chances.
Now the doctor asked me about
why I wanted castration. I told him
about my gender issues and that I hated the male sex drive, and my positive
coming out experience with Vicki was repeated for the second time today. Despite the less than ideal surgery setting,
I had the feeling that everything was going to be all right and this would all
work out. Dr. Spector was assured that I
really wanted to do this, and that I would be happy afterwards.
We also discussed estrogen
hormones. The doctor seemed to really
want to sell me hormones, but he wanted $200 a month for them. I also felt that the doses were pretty high,
and one of the reasons I was getting castrated was so that I would never need
high and risky amounts of HRT. I think
the doctor stretch the truth a bit, for although I had lost a lot of head hair,
he tried to tell me that I would regrow all of it on HRT. He also insisted that I would not have any
hot flashes or bone density loss from castration, whether or not I did
HRT. I declined Spector's offer for HRT
because of the cost and that he seemed too enthusiastic about selling me his
estrogen. I have gone with no HRT for
two and a half years, but as I write this, I finally expect to be on a safe
dose of estrogen very soon.
Spector then drove me around
downtown Philadelphia and showed me many of the historical sights, the Liberty
Bell, Independence Hall, and many newer things too. We went out to eat at a large restaurant
along the Delaware River. I don't
remember the name of the place anymore, but I do recall the many pool tables
and tons of video and virtual games, one of which took up all of a large
room. Spector treated me as the woman I
felt I was inside, even though I was not dressed as one at the time. We talked a lot more about what I was about
to do, and the many good things I would soon experience, and he cracked some
jokes.
But the service at this
restaurant was awful. We had to wait
more than 20 minutes to get a table.
Then they really undercooked Dr. Spector's green beans, which aggravated
a dental problem that he had. Later he
ordered a cake for dessert, but when it was apparent that he would have to wait
until doomsday for it, he canceled dessert and asked for the bill while
apologizing for keeping me there for so long.
But they weren't efficient with getting our bill either, and while we
were waiting for that, the waitress serving the table behind me spilled some
drinks on me.
After dinner the doctor showed
me more of Philadelphia, and we stopped at the downtown post office where the
doctor sent a box of hormones to a transsexual in California. Finally he dropped me off at my bed and
breakfast, and my long day finally ended.
I had another one of those
gender related dreams this morning. I
have many dreams that pertain to gender, and my favorite dreams are the ones
where I go back to some time long ago and relive an experience that I had,
except this time as a girl. This was one
of those dreams. Our family was on one
of our camping trips, and we were all riding around a lake. I am really not an outdoors type person at
all, but just dreaming that I was Sherry and not 'him' at the time was so
pleasant.
Of my eight days in
Philadelphia, today was the only day that I did not see Dr. Spector at
all. I had a day to kill before I went
through my castration, and I walked all over the downtown to see the many
places that Dr. Spector had pointed out to me last night. I also browsed in many stores and purchased a
few souvenirs. I added the third CD of
Chuck Wild's 'Liquid Mind' to my new age music collection. The Liquid Mind series is especially
relaxing, and I have used this during electrolysis sessions. Though I counted down the hours until my
appointment, I tried to not think about tomorrow's surgery too much, and
whenever I would begin to fear the procedure, I would think about the
aftereffects that I would soon gain.
Tomorrow I would go through
something that very few people dare to do, or even dare to discuss. Today I was just another tourist in downtown
Philadelphia.
I returned home in the early
evening and began the preparations for my surgery. I was relieved that nobody was using the
other room tonight, which meant that I would have the bathroom to myself while
I shaved the pubic area at Dr. Spector's request. I had tried shaving this area once when I was
16, but I didn't like the prickly feeling from the stubble, so I had not tried
it since. This was just something else I
had to do to get what I wanted.
After eating some breakfast I
walked over to the market less than two blocks from my room. I picked up some bread, sandwich supplies,
and 7up, because I expected to not feel like going out anywhere for some time
after my surgery. Now I was worrying
about the procedure again. The worst
thing I had ever been through up to this time was my wisdom tooth extractions,
and I had never required significant surgery in my life. But as much as I feared an operation, I was
even more excited about getting rid of my testicles and the testosterone they
produced.
I would have to be very brave
for the next few hours. How painful was
this going to be? The doctor appears
old, is he going to be capable? Is the
room safe? One thing I knew for sure, I
really wanted to get castrated, and I knew that if I backed out I would regret
not doing this until the day I did it. I
already regretted not being castrated when I was younger. If I went ahead, I would be happily
recovering in several hours from now, however nasty the procedure turned out to
be. Many others had made it before me,
and I knew that I would get through this too.
When I returned from the market,
Vicki called me on the phone in my room.
She thought that I had already gone through the procedure and was
concerned about how I was feeling and if I was OK. Vicki truly cares for her patrons, and
especially for Dr. Spector's patients.
Oh, I wished I already was through the procedure and resting up from it.
Dr. Spector had requested that I
bring a jock strap to wear during and after the surgery. I remember having received one of these on my
13th birthday and despising it. Most
male things merely did not interest me, but I truly felt that there was
something repulsive about jock straps, and I had never worn one anytime in my
life up until now. But I really wanted
my castration, and jock straps were just another unpleasant thing to endure in
order to reach my goals.
Now it was a few minutes before
my 11AM appointment, and I walked the three blocks to Spector's office. The doctor started off by giving me another
informal consultation similar to the one we had on Sunday night. I also signed a release form, which stated
that I was aware about the effects of castration, that I would be impotent and
certainly infertile, and might experience possible complications. Well I sure hoped that I ended up impotent
from this, and I didn't care for male fertility either. I was certainly more than willing to risk
complications in order to get rid of testosterone. This release form and the payment of the
castration fee are the only prerequisites for castration by Dr. Spector.
Then I confronted yet another
one of those unpleasant things I would have to go through to get rid of
testosterone. Nobody had laid eyes on my
genitals for the past 20 years and I didn't look forward to anyone seeing them
now, but to accomplish what I wanted I was going to have to lie there on that
table with them exposed for a couple of hours.
The doctor thanked me for
shaving the area last night as he rubbed a lot of betadine all over my
midsection. Then it was time for the
anesthetic injections, for this procedure would be impossible unless I was
numb. On Sunday night the doctor had
tried to assure me that these shots would not be bad at all. But when he stuck the needle in my abdomen a
few inches above my genitals, I felt that this was the nastiest injection I had
ever received in my life. Then I had to
endure that again when Spector injected into the other side. The elderly doctor would hesitate just before
injecting me, oh please get this over with, owwww this hurts!
I knew ahead of time that I
would receive two injections in the lower abdomen, and I was relieved when I
had finished enduring the second shot.
But now I watched the doctor prepare for another injection, oh what now? He was going to inject a third time, and this
one was going through the bottom of my scrotum.
This last one was a lot worse than those other two awful shots, and
Spector's nurse had to coach me through this one as if I was a woman in labor. I guess nature made this area very sensitive
to pain in order to protect the reproductive organs.
Now the three of us chatted as
we waited for the anesthetic to take effect.
Every few minutes Dr. Spector would poke my genitals to see if they were
numbing. Some areas were going numb, but
my case seemed to be one of the slower ones.
I started to worry if the anesthetic was ever going to take effect,
because how would I get my castration if it did not.
Then the doctor prepared to give
me more shots. Not again! But the injection sites were already numb and
I did not feel these next two shots at all.
We chatted some more and waited.
Finally my genitals were
completely numb and the doctor was ready to start cutting. I think he started the surgery just after
noon, but I was unable to keep track of how much time the procedure took. There was a clock in the room, but to look at
it I would have to look past myself where I was having the surgery,
and I did not want to see myself cut open at all. I think it took about two hours. I just lay there on the table and kept my
arms on my chest to make sure I didn't see any of it. Throughout the procedure, I kept worrying
that the doctor would cut into an area that wasn't numb.
I felt no pain, but I did feel
pressure around the area as the doctor worked on it. I felt something cold splash on my legs and
was told that this was the fluid from inside the scrotal sac. Sperm can't survive at normal body
temperature, so the body has to keep this area cool.
It seemed to take a while. Finally the doctor was cutting into the cords
of one of the testicles, and soon he announced that one of them was
detached. This was going to work out
after all, but it was no good until both were gone.
I waited and waited to hear that
the second testicle had been cut off. It
seemed to be taking an awful long time, and I waited anxiously. Finally I asked the doctor how he was doing
on the second one, and he told me that he had already cut the second testicle
off and was now sewing me back up.
Spector had forgotten to inform me when the second one was
detached. After so many years of
wondering if there was even any doctor willing to castrate me, I had finally
obtained my dream. Now I already felt
relief, because I had made it through the procedure, and had only to recover
form it.
I never did see my
testicles. Dr. Spector normally wants
his patients to view their testicles after they have been detached so that the
patient knows for sure they have been castrated. After castration the patient often develops
lumps where the testicles were, and Spector told me that some patients have
called him back claiming that they hadn't been castrated at all. I had asked the doctor to spare me this gory
sight, for I knew I would feel sick if I saw myself cut open or my bloody
parts. I would know I was castrated by
the aftereffects and I would go by how I felt.
The doctor reluctantly granted me my wish to not have me see my
parts. I don't know what he did with
them, and I don't care.
At last the doctor had me
stitched up, and gave me some instructions on aftercare. I would have to keep the area dry for a week
to ten days. Spector asks his patients
to report for follow up care the day after surgery, and since I was spending
the whole week in town, he offered to check up on me every day until I
departed, and for no extra charge. Since
I was one of the more sensitive patients, Spector sent three pain pills with
me.
Dawn* waited outside the office
as I finished up with my session. As I
left the office Dawn came in for her brief appointment to continue her HRT
treatment. Dawn had been on estrogen for
seven months, and despite being 72 years old she was turning out to be not only
passable and feminine, but also very pretty.
If she could do this, then so could I.
Just seeing Dawn this one time convinced me that I could both transform
and transition into whatever I felt like I was inside.
For now I walked the three
blocks back to my bed and breakfast. Two
aspirin got me through the rest of the afternoon and early evening. I made two sandwiches and watched TV to pass
the evening. I still had my recovery
ahead of me, but my castration was finished and I no longer had the anxiety of
getting through a procedure. Not only
did I feel so relieved, I also felt so elated.
I could not wait to feel the effects of testosterone loss. For now I felt only the pain in my genital
area, and took a pain pill before going to bed.
I also slept very well the night after my castration.
I had a fright shortly after I
woke up this morning. When I went to the
bathroom I noticed that the left side of my scrotum and penile shaft had turned
dark purple, while the right side was not discolored at all. Was I hemorrhaging inside? My appointment with Dr. Spector for my
follow-up was not until 1:30 today; maybe I should call him up now? But I felt OK and was not feeling faint or
going into shock, so I decided to wait and endured my fears.
Spector assured me that the mild
bleeding was normal, and as he examined the area he commented that everything
looked good and that I was already starting to heal nicely. Whew, I would not need additional treatment.
Spector took me out again after
the checkup. We ate at a grill a few
blocks from his office, and then the doctor took me downtown again. We ate ice cream at a counter inside a large
market. I didn't walk very much today,
and the doctor took me back to the car when he sensed that I was feeling
chilly. Today was nice, sunny, and 68
degrees, the warmest day during my visit here, yet the light breeze was still
enough to chill me. But I was glad that
I didn't come to this concrete jungle during the midsummer, it must be awful in
August. The doctor drove me to some more
sights, and then he returned me to the bed and breakfast.
I reported to Dr. Spector's
office at 1PM today for another follow-up, and the doctor said that I was still
healing nicely. After my appointment he
took me out again. Today we went to the
Gallery Mall below the downtown, and when I was ready to purchase a cassette
tape, the doctor ran it through the checkout himself and paid for it for me.
Dr. Spector drove me around the
Fairmount Park to show me some more sights.
I wanted to go in the Franklin Institute, so we figured that I would be
OK if he dropped me off here and I could walk the mile and a half back to my
bed and breakfast. I stayed for a couple
of hours, and though I still felt discomfort in the surgery area, I made the
long walk back to Vicki's OK. Only two
days after my castration I was getting back to normal already.
I saw Dr. Spector for my third
follow-up visit at 10:30 this morning because he had another castration to
perform this afternoon. My healing was
still OK. Even though the doctor had an
afternoon patient, he still had time to drive me around a little. Today he dropped me off at a ferry station
and paid my round trip fare so I could cross the Delaware River and visit the
aquarium in Camden.
Philadelphia experienced
miserable weather today. The tallest
skyscrapers disappeared into the dark clouds that hung over us all day today,
and after returning to the Pennsylvania side of the river I got caught in a
passing thunderstorm. Eventually I made
it to the Gallery again for something to eat, and then I visited Ms. Thomas*.
Ms. Thomas is another person who
runs a bed and breakfast in the area and takes many of Dr. Spector's
patients. Like Vicki she is also very
pleasant, caring, concerned, and open minded.
We chatted for a while, but I had to cut my visit a little short because
the person getting castrated by Dr. Spector today was staying here, and the doctor would be driving them back here very
soon. Before I left, Mr. Thomas
suggested that I go to Giovanni's Room and see what information I could find
there.
Giovanni's Room is the local gay
and lesbian bookstore in Philadelphia.
Just six months before I would not have entered this place, but ever
since my gender issues had surfaced last November I have had to confront my own
bigotry, which I had acquired long ago when I had tried to suppress these
gender issues. Oh, I've come such a long
way in the last several months.
I asked the cashier if the store
had books on transgender, and they kindly led me to the transgender section on
the second floor. I saw many of the
books I had seen mentioned on the internet, and I picked out 'Conundrum' by Jan
Morris. There were many more books
including a title 'Mom I Need to be a Girl', oh this
had to be good. This book was written by
the mother of a male-to-female transsexual who was able to transition at an age
most of us can only wish, because she had such a supportive family. I stayed in this store into the evening,
forgetting that I wanted to get safely back to Vicki's before dark, but I
really got carried away here in this interesting place. So I had to walk out in the dark, but I made
it back to my room OK.
Oops, I overslept a little and
arrived at Spector's office 20 minutes late for my 9AM appointment. But the doctor came in even later than I did,
and I got to meet another patient of his.
Emily* was a middle aged transsexual who was on HRT and had been
castrated by Dr. Spector. She had more
physical factors to overcome than Dawn, but the hormones were having obvious
effects and Emily had already transitioned full time.
I was now four days
post-castration. My surgical incision
was healing normally and the doctor thought it was time to remove most of the
stitches. The sutures that Spector uses
do not fall out on their own, and most patients have to either find a doctor in
their home town to remove them, or some patients grin and bear it as they tease
them out themselves. Now I was really
glad that I had stayed the whole week here.
Still, I did feel pain ow! ow! as the doctor removed most of the sutures. Then there was one last stitch, but Spector
decided to leave this last one in for another day and would consider removing
it tomorrow.
This morning I was feeling some
waves of sadness because today would be my last full day here in Philadelphia
and I would have to leave this place and all of the wonderful people I have
met. Six days ago I came here timid and
afraid, not knowing whom to trust, and even wondering if I could survive this
city. But a gender queer like me was
probably a lot safer here than in Stepford Arkansas. Then I met many wonderful and special people
and had accomplished a lifelong dream.
Oh, I don't want to think about tomorrow, the idea of leaving this place
and my new friends in exchange for the repressive environment back in Arkansas
was so depressing.
But I still had one more full
day here to enjoy, and little did I know what adventures awaited me today.
After seeing Dr. Spector I
returned to Vicki's. Vicki had asked me
if I would switch rooms so that the other guests could have the room with two
beds. As I moved my things to the room
with the single bed, I thought about what I would do with my last full day in
Philadelphia.
Vicki came back up and asked me
if I could do a favor. She had a friend
on the phone who was transsexual and had some questions about my castration,
and I was put on the phone with Selma*.
Selma seemed timid on the phone, and the
background noise from her workplace made it a little difficult to hear
her. After a brief conversation, Selma's
boss Leo* gave the OK for me to meet Selma at the store this afternoon.
As I walked toward Leo's store I
noticed a difference in my feelings.
Whenever I stopped at an intersection to wait until I could cross the
street safely, the wait seemed to not irritate me like it used to. Indeed, I was feeling a lot more serene than
I had before. Was this from the castration? I had read in the alt.eunuchs.questions
newsgroup that the half-life of testosterone was five days, so my hormone
levels must be about 40% lower. I had
not masturbated at all since my castration, yet my male sex drive was not
returning. Oh, I knew I would feel so
much better without testosterone, now it's actually happening!
Selma and I had quite a good
visit. We had to stop talking about
ourselves whenever a client walked in, and then we would resume our
conversation whenever the client left and we had the store to ourselves again. Selma figured out that I was shy, and I had noticed the same in her. It seems that all of us girls are timid,
probably because of our life experiences before dealing with our gender
issues. In addition we had Selma's gay
boss Leo and another open-minded young man who was their friend. We really had a friendly meeting and a lot of
interesting discussion.
Selma was on hormones and full
time, but she could not afford her SRS and was considering orchiectomy, and
wanted to know so much about my experience with Spector and the aftereffects of
what I had done. I had been looking on
the internet to find others who had the feelings that I did, to look for
information and support, but only four days after I started dealing with my
gender I was already able to help and support one of my sisters. Selma had many questions about my castration, and I wasn't able to answer all of them because
four days is very early to testify about the effects. We kept in touch by E-mail for a while, and I
kept her updated about what I was feeling.
In return, Selma had much
encouragement for me. Selma thought I
was cute, but she understood that I was not comfortable with my male body and
that I wished to feminize it. She told
me that I would love it when I got on estrogen, that it would feel so good to
have breasts and a more feminine body.
Selma had a doctor that charged her only $50 a month for her HRT, my
goodness, Dr. Spector is expensive. Well
I'll never purchase hormones from Spector.
A few weeks later Selma asked her doctor if he would also provide HRT
for me, but the doctor said that I would have to come back to Philadelphia for
that.
Throughout my early adulthood I
had read and been told that transsexuals who changed their sex suffered poor
health and many complications, did not live long, usually regretted their
change, and were mentally messed up. As
a result I had tried to suppress my own gender issues, fearing that if I didn't
somehow cure myself that I would eventually end up like those transsexuals I
had read about. Even when I had first
came here earlier this week, I could not see myself having a future as Sherry,
I thought OK I'll get castrated and get rid of the male hormones, get some
electrolysis, maybe a little other feminization, and then live my life as best
I could.
Then I had met Dawn, and today I
had met Emily, and now Selma. There was
no truth in what the Catholic and fundamentalist churches had been telling me
at all, these women were living as their true selves and loving it. There was some pain to get through, but then
there was a lifetime of happiness. Now I
knew that I had many future possibilities and I could be whatever I wanted.
Regretfully it was time to close
the store, and then our visit ended.
Both Selma and I wished that we had found each other earlier in the week
so we could have had more time to meet.
I wandered around the downtown some more, and then visited the shops on
South Street one more time. I purchased
two more new age CDs.
After I packed my suitcases, I
saw Dr. Spector one last time. The
doctor looked at my surgery site and decided that it would be OK to remove that
one last stitch before sending me home.
Would that last stitch be more painful than the others? Dr. Spector indicated that it would be, and
then OW! Finally that was over with, and
I was relieved that I would not have to deal with removing sutures at home.
The doctor drove me back to
Vicki's so I could pick up my suitcases and say my goodbyes there. I always feel depressed when leaving
relatives on the day I return home, but today I was feeling it worse than I had
on any other trip. I was going to miss
these people so terribly much. Even
today I still maintain occasional E-Mail contact with both Dr. Spector and
Vicki and update them on my progress.
Dr. Spector drove me to the
airport, and I appreciated him saving me the cab fare, not to mention the scary
driving habits of the cab driver. Then
we hugged each other goodbye at the airport.
Not only did I have the sadness of leaving behind many new friends, but
also the dread feeling that from now on I was on my own as far as my recovery
was concerned. I could not discuss this
with anybody back home, especially not my own mother.
The weather on my flight back
west mirrored the flight I had last week.
Clouds were moving into Philadelphia as I left, it stayed cloudy over
the Appalachia, and then cleared up over Kentucky. I had weathered the storm to accomplish
something I so much wanted to do, only to leave the land beyond the storm and
return to the life I had been living.
But I was returning much better off than I had left. Not only were my testicles gone, but I had
also made many new friends I had never known before, and now there were people
who knew and accepted me as Sherry. I
hope to someday return to Philadelphia to revisit Dr. Spector and all of my
other friends, and maybe I would get to meet even more wonderful people.
But for now I felt the sadness
of leaving my friends as I connected in Memphis, and then boarded the commuter
flight to Fayetteville. Although the
weather was clear, the flight turned bumpy over northern Arkansas and the pilot
informed us that it would be bumpy for the remainder of the flight. Back in Arkansas I drove to my local Wal-Mart
to pick up my first bottle of Caltrate, which I would take for calcium
supplements now that I was hypogonadal, and a few
other medical supplies for my surgery area.
The depression I experienced as
a result of leaving Philadelphia and my newfound friends quickly lifted the
very next day as I returned to work.
This workday was one of the most hectic I had ever experienced, yet I
was stunned by how calm I felt throughout this trying day. Things were going so badly and everyone
around me was agitated, but I was not.
Only six days after my castration there was no question that this had
made a very positive difference in my life.
The surgery area really smelled
because I had been advised to keep it dry.
I felt that others around me could pick up on this odor. Next Friday, ten days after my castration I
was sent to learn a new task, and I had to stand close to the women who were
training me, which had me really worried that they would notice that odor
coming from my genitals. I decided that
enough was enough and I went ahead and washed my genital area in the shower.
My recovery continued to
progress, and the discomfort decreased with each passing day. Several weeks later the incision had
completely sealed, leaving only a minor scar line where Spector had cut me
open.
By then I constantly felt like I
was as a feather just floating around.
It felt so good to be free from testosterone. I felt even better with each passing
week. But my underlying gender issues
remained, and I remembered the successful lives of Dawn, Emily, and Selma. Since then I have met more transsexuals and
transgendered people, and I am even more convinced that I can attain the future
that I have always dreamed of.
I went without any estrogen or
any other hormones for more than two years after my castration, but no hormones
has been a lot better than the testosterone that I used to have.
I never had hot flashes just
like the doctor kept insisting that I would not, but I feel that Dr. Spector
exaggerates some of the benefits of castration and estrogens, and I do believe
those eunuchs who say that they experienced terrible hot flashes contrary to my
own experience. I was simply lucky not
to have hot flashes.
While leaving Philadelphia did
depress me, I never experienced any depression or regrets from the castration
itself.
Age
will no doubt force Dr. Spector into retirement in not too many more years, and
I can only hope that a new doctor will take his place in providing castration
without hassle to those who truly desire it, and even improve on the procedure. Not only are there transgendered people, but
there are men who would truly be happier if castrated to relieve strong libidos
and for other causes, and we will always need a doctor that will competently
perform this service to those who would benefit from it.
Castration made me feel so much
better, took away a male libido that contradicted my sense of self, and made me
feel more calm all of the time. I remain very happy that I went through with
my castration, but it was merely my first step in finding peace with myself.
Two years and seven months after
my orchiectomy, I finally commenced my estrogen reassignment therapy. I have since completed my facial electrolysis, and I made my legal
and social transition at the end of 2002.
In 2003 I moved out of Arkansas and began a new life where almost nobody
knows about my past. I am now saving
funds to obtain SRS, hopefully in the year 2006. Orchiectomy was merely my first step in
obtaining the life I was meant to have.
*Dawn, Emily, Leo, Selma, Vicki,
and Ms. Thomas are fictitious names that I used to protect the identities of
the real people that I met during this special time in my life.
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