Surgery fears
The Surgery – gender reassignment surgery – has never felt like the One End Goal for me. I was ambiguous about surgery, unsure if it was right for me. I knew I didn’t like my body as-is, but surgical intervention is a big step. I joked that, should a vagina fairy fly through the window, I would happily swap my penis for some new plumbing. But wanting something in the abstract and being willing to undergo the steps to get it are two different things, whether the thing in question is moving, learning a new language, or gender reassignment surgery. My equipment (such that it is) works pretty well. It gives me pleasure. I’m not too upset about it. Couldn’t I find a better use of $20,000? Life would certainly be easier if I decided I didn’t want The Surgery.
At some point within the last two years, though, I woke up and realized I did want The Surgery. So I started doing research. Met with doctors. Decided on Dr. McGinn. Scheduled a date, December 9, 2013. Launched a surgery fundraiser. Went to New York City to get my penis scanned by lasers, so that I could make a custom, self-cast mold. I am having this surgery, and the surgery itself is rushing closer every day.
I’m still scared, though. And I’m not sure how to talk about that fear.
I’ve always said (and I still believe) that no trans person ”needs” surgery to be a “real” man or woman or anything else. Surgery is a personal act, but it’s also political and economic. My having surgery, my (financial/physical/emotional/social) ability to have surgery, don’t make me a “better” trans person than someone who – for whatever reason(s) – ends up not having surgery. I’m comfortable with all that; of saying “This decision is right for me, but may not be right for anyone else.”
For all that, it was easier to feel ambiguous before I actually decided to have The Surgery. I could legitimately say “I don’t know.” Now I’m saying that I do know – that I want and am ready for The Surgery – without anything approaching 100% certainty.
Some of the fears are boring and practical: Should I be spending $20,000 on this? Should I be asking friends and family and strangers to help me raise $20,000? Am I willing to go into debt to get this done? Those are logistical fears, and the easiest ones to dismiss: Yes, if this is the right decision for me, then it’s worth $20,000. Yes, I’m willing to go into debt. yes, I’m willing to ask friends and family and strangers for money.
But what about the bigger fears? The scarier ones?
What if I come out feeling wrong?
What if I never orgasm again? Or sexual at all?
Looking at pictures of post-op trans women, some of them look painful. Icky. Not like something I want to happen to my body. What if that’s my experience? What if I never feel like me again?
Somehow, asking those questions – naming those fears – seems like it’s not allowed. Like there’s an unspoken agreement among trans people that – once the decision to have The Surgery is made – we’re not allowed to discuss the fact that it’s scary. Painful. Uncomfortable. Gross.
As a performer, as an educator, and as a person, I try to project the sense that I have my shit together and know what I’m doing. But I don’t. I’m making it up as I go along. To some extent, I am reassured by my past reactions to transitioning; I describe every step of the way as me saying, “Wait, no, this is scary this is too much, this is too fast, this is – why didn’t I do this ages ago?” That fits my reaction to going back to therapy, going on hormones, trying hair removal, changing my appearance and my name, the whole kit and caboodle. There’s good reason to believe I’ll feel that way after The Surgery, too.
I’ve also been thinking about when I got my gallbladder removed. That experience was gross, and painful, and uncomfortable. I also survived it, and came out stronger for it.
I don’t want to dwell on fear, or let it consume me. But I also don’t want to pretend that it’s not there, or that I’m immune to doubt and second thoughts.
I just have to trust that it will all turn out OK.
Themocracy
I am so right here with you on this. My vaginoplasty is in 164 days. I am alternately terrified, tired or nervous about it. I believe a large part of the fear of this discussion is that fear is portrayed as weakness or uncertainty. The old gatekeeping schema was ‘If you are afraid of this, then you must not “truly” want it’. Which is bullshit to me. There are a great many things I fear but still want, I think it’s about a healthy understanding of risks and realities. If I am afraid of this, or nervous, and yet a still do it, that counts as a considered choice to me. I don’t believe that knowing you need a surgery to continue your life in a positive and affirming way automatically makes you exempt from the fear of the procedure, whether its a vaginoplasty, gallbladder or breast biopsy.
Well said. Thanks for sharing your thoughts. I suspect that we’re not alone in this uncertainty but – as you point out – there’s a whole history of uncertainty equaling denied treatment that (consciously or unconsciously) keeps people quiet.
good luck! i hope everything goes well for you.
Thanks!
If you are a transwoman now, you will remain a transwoman after your surgery. If you have issues about your appearance, dating, your future, the surgery will change nothing.
Your issues will not go away. The only ‘thang’ that will have changed is that your options will now be irrevocably limited.
I actually agree with part of what you’re saying, that surgery will not magically change/(re)solve any larger issues in my life. I don’t think I said that it would, though, so I’m not sure why you felt the need to remind me. And, being pedantic, the surgery will change something: I’ll have a vagina, not a penis. Yes, it will be a surgically constructed vagina, requiring dilation and extra care, but to say that the surgery won’t change anything seems a bit extreme. Likewise, I don’t see how my options will be “irrevocably limited.”
I was scared about my surgery, but not for the same reasons most seem to be.
Most fear the pain or that they will lose the ability to orgasm, I feared what my life would be like when I was fifty (still not there yet).
My whole family and every friend I had, deserted me, it made me question whether or not I was worthy of love. Surgery may have doomed me to a life where I was permanently unloveable, and THAT is what I feared, that it would mean I’d be alone for the rest of my life (and I was still in my twenties, so the rest of my life may have ended up being a LONG! time) and DIE the same way, ALONE, never having known REAL love (not just sex), miserable.
But for me, life as I was, GUARANTEED I’d never know REAL love (how could someone truly love ME when it wasn’t possible for them to truly understand ME because of the wrong “bits”), so it was a chance I had to take.
Thank you for sharing your experiences! I hope that your surgery was the right decision for you, even with all your fears and doubts.
Not so much “right” as it was *only* (viable). But not everyone views things as I do/did and my advice (not that anyone has asked for it) to others would be that if you can live without it, if it isn’t a life treating restriction to you, then for certain it would be easier and better to do so, I would certainly have if I’d felt I could have.
Good luck!
I think what I was trying to say is that there are many transwomen for whom surgery is an unnecesary risk/expense/option. It really makes little difference to their over all situation in life. All the surgery does is fix/change the plumbing. Everything else stays the same.
I tend to agree with Renee. If you can live without it, why bother?
Rebecca, your mileage may vary. I had a long struggle with myself about whether to have a vaginoplasty or not. I had the very same concerns as you too, I think. In the end I decided to go with my emotional sureness at went ahead. I think saying it makes little difference to someone’s life is true for some and by no means all. I think we wouldn’t all keep choosing to go through it if it truly meant so little to do many? That’s my personal opinion anyway. For me it turned out to make more difference than I ever imagined possible. I feel freed of disphoria and I cant begin to exoress how much this has and is changing me and my life.
That was my mileage anyway.
ps I used to comment here some years ago. Lovely to see you thriving!
Hey Maddie! Welcome back, and thanks for chiming in.
What you’re saying sounds spot on, and is kind of where I’ve arrived: surgery is simultaneously not the only important thing in the universe and – at the same time – can be pretty damn important. Hopefully mine will turn out as emotionally positive as yours.
Also… typing in a tiny tiny text box on a phone = spelling mistakes <.<
I hope it does! Eyes open and with forethought is the way to go, I think, so you seem to be doing that