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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