Well, I survived. And I’m so glad I had the surgery. Truly life changing. I would recommend it to anyone who is on the fence about it. Gender affirming surgeries are life saving and so important to offer. Today I wanted to write though about the surgery itself, and how I’m feeling during recovery.

The morning of surgery Pockets and I walked from the hotel to the hospital. I had to be in at 6am, so we left around 540. It was so lovely to walk through Manhattan then. It was quite and peaceful, a side of Manhattan I’ve never experienced in my many trips to it. I took a photo of us on the way — the last photo I’ve taken of me before surgery. It’s blurry, but I love the photo so much. I look truly happy in it, because I am. It’s not just a “smile for the camera”, it’s that I am smiling. It fills me with joy.

Aside from happy, I was also so anxious and pretty scared. It would be my first surgery since I was about 3 months old and excluding my dental surgeries, which turns out are an entirely different basket (and much less severe).

At the hospital, I checked in and was told to go back to the Post Anesthesia Care Unit (PACU) to prep for the surgery. They told me Pockets needed to wait outside PACU at first, but would be allowed to come in to see me before surgery. So, off I went. I met a nurse, Alona (I think). She was so kind and lovely. I know it’s literally her job to take care of people but she helped so much to put me at ease. I’m grateful for her and wanted to give her a shout out 🥰. She talked with me about the process, that the surgeons would come by an introduce themselves and talk with me about the surgery in advance, that I needed to strip all of my clothing and accessories and change into a gown and some sweet purple grippy socks, and brush my teeth again using a new toothbrush and special toothpaste to help avoid infection caused by the anesthesia tube that goes down your throat.

After changing and such, I was waiting in a chair and Alona came by again to ask some data entry questions and fill out some chart things. When that was all done she asked: “Would you like me to get Pockets now?”
“Yes,” I replied without hesitation. I was so anxious. I wanted Pockets there with me now so badly. Alona briefly stepped out and back she came with Pockets, whose immediate eye contact and smile melted me a bit. She could see that I was having some anxiety and came back and held my hand and talked with me about random things that I can’t actually remember. The conversation topics weren’t important–it was important that she was there. That I had someone with me who cared about me and could distract me and take care of me when I was under and after coming out. I was so grateful for her calming presence.

Soon my surgeon, Dr. Najari, came by. He talked with me about recovery again and the process. He let me know that by the time I would come to he would be in his next surgery and that he wouldn’t see me again after surgery until my post-op visit a couple weeks later, but that he would talk with Pockets and fill her in, and that he would leave me a video message in MyChart with a recap of how the surgery went. He was his usual nerdy self. I love him. He’s fantastic. Kind and odd, two of my favorite attributes in humans. Before leaving he had me sign some paperwork and he went through the two sides of the gown to write “BN” on both sides of my abdomen to signify “Both Nuggets”, I assume (or something about bilateral _____ I guess..)

After Dr. Najari left, the doctor controlling the anesthesia, Dr. Ramdas, came by. He seemed like a nice guy. I had never met him before and it was a few quick disclosures. He let me know he would start me off with an injection to put my under and then he would replace the IV anesthesia with a gas via a tube that would go down my throat. I am SO FUCKING GLAD that I didn’t know that in advance and that also I was asleep for that because shit girl, even after 20 years of dating people who have penises, having a whole tube shoved down your throat for surgery would not be something I could handle awake. 😳😳😳

Next Dr. Ramdas took his exit and it was just Pockets and I again. We spoke for a few minutes. I remember her squeezing my hand. Then Alona came over and asked me if I wanted to pee before surgery, that “it was almost time.” That sentence really stood out to me. It was SO REAL. My life was about to be forever changed. My body forever changed in a significant way. I was about to make myself fully dependent upon receiving hormones instead of producing my own for the rest of my life. “Yes,” I replied again. I did want to pee. I didn’t really have to but shit this was the last time in a while that I could do so easily. I absolutely wanted to get anything out that I could 😅.

I peed. Alona asked Pockets to leave when I returned. I gave Pockets a big hug and a kiss and told her I’d see her soon. She left for the waiting area. Alona asked, “Are you ready?”
“Yes.”
“Alright! This way then.” I followed her through some doors, down a hallway, and she knocked on this heavy looking double metal door. She glanced at me, “You’ll be fine,” and smiled. Before I could reply, the doors opened and Dr. Najari was there. “We’re all ready for you, Elly.” (Until my pending name change is legal, I’m still going by my old nickname to avoid confusion in the billing and insurance world.)

I thanked Alona as she departed, and Dr. Najari led me inside the room. This was my first operating room I’d ever seen in-person. There were several stainless steel tables with a variety of instruments and computers, lots of people in scrubs, masks, and gloves–like, a lot of people, 10, maybe? more? I couldn’t help but to think that it was like in the movies, but that it was very different to be the POV of the patient. I was suddenly terrified. As I laid myself down on the operating table, I looked up at the two big OR lights suspended from the ceiling. This is it. This could be the last thing I see, ever. Some dark thoughts creeped in. I knew the chances of something going wrong were incredibly low, but it’s always a possibility during surgery especially with anesthesia. I tried to shake it off, but I was feeling a little anxious.

I moved my body to the position they instructed, (the supine position, according to the surgical notes in MyChart). My left arm was being worked on by Dr. Ramdas. He was struggling to get an IV in the vein. I couldn’t look because I’m terrified of needles, but I could tell what was happening because phlebotomists have often struggled with my left arm. Sometimes this is painful. Dr. Najari was on my right side, and my attention was focused on him. He could see that I was anxious, and that I was having some pain from the needles going in and out so much. I was stimming, my fingers on my right hand continuously pressing against each other and releasing. Press and release. Press and release.

Dr. Najari, in his lovely nerdy self, began asking me about my recovery plans. “Where are you staying? Will you be playing any Switch games? What will you watch on Netflix? What types of shows do you like?” It was to distract me, I know. But I welcomed the distraction. Neither one of us cared what I was going to watch during recovery but I was grateful to have something else to focus on than the pending surgery.

Finally, the IV was in. “Okay Elly, I’m about to start the first injection. You’re going to feel a burning sensation, that’s entirely normal,” Said Dr. Ramdas.
“Okay, sounds good,” I gave my approval. Here we go… I thought, recognizing there was no going back from here.

Almost immediately my left elbow felt a bit like it was on fire, then, moments later, my whole body was burning a little. Nothing horrible, but unpleasant. Next came a really strong metallic taste in my mouth. Things began to feel off. “This feels so weird,” I said to Dr. Najari. I don’t remember his reply. The burning stopped, but the taste continued. I thought, please don’t let this be the last time I open my eyes.

It wasn’t. I opened my eyes again in the PACU. I don’t remember anything further in-between. I was still coming off the anesthetic, and I don’t have clarity on the barrage of questions I was being asked. I remember being asked about my pain levels from 1 -> 10 (good -> bad). I think I said like 4? I just kept thinking I’m alive, good. But girl you’re asking me all these questions and I barely know my own name right now. I began to feel confused by the questions and I think she could tell. She brought me water, coffee, and some saltines and gave me some time to eat and drink and wake up a bit further.

About 5 or 10 minutes later she returned. “Let’s take you for a short walk and have you try to pee again, then we’ll bring Pockets back again.” She said. Thank goddess, I thought. I wanted more than anything Pockets to be there with me again. “Okay, let’s go,” I muttered, or something similar I’m sure.

We walked about 50 feet down the PACU and back, then to the toilet. “Don’t lock the door in case you need help. I’ll be right outside.” the nurse told me.
“Okay.”
I peed again, somehow. Pre-surgery, I had been fasting for hours so I’m truly uncertain where all the liquid came from, but the body is a mysterious temple ✨🕍

I had a hard time finding my balance getting up from the toilet. I wasn’t sure how to replace the gauze around my scrotum. I couldn’t figure out how to tie the gown. “Help,” I said to the nurse. I was ready to cry. I felt so helpless and confused. She asked to come in and I agreed. It was fine. She told me the gauze doesn’t need to go in any particular way, it just needs to be compressed against the scrotum to help reduce the chance of swelling/a hematoma. She got me dressed in the gown again and walked me back to my bed. She grabbed my bag from the locker with my personal belongings, including my cell phone. “Would you like Pockets now?” She asked.
“Yes, please.” I was so relieved. I was finally going to have her back to help me. While the nurse retrieved my girlfriend, I opened up my phone.

I snapped a quick photo — not my best look but I was just happy to be alive and be done with the surgery — and posted to my Instagram Stories that I was in some pain but I was alive and recovering well. I started texting The Gossip Column — Pocket’s name for my close friend group here in Jamaica Plain. I tried telling them that I was alive and recovering but I was still having a lot of trouble with basic motor coordination and processing. Somehow I typed “I’m dying” 💀 and I was debating sending it when suddenly Pockets appeared. I don’t remember exactly what I said, and truthfully, some of these post-anesthesia events might be slightly out of order because I was high AF and I’m doing my best to fill in the blanks, but I remember showing her the message because I thought it was funny. “Oh Babe, no.” She said, taking my phone away. (She always capitalizes the first letter of the affectionate name she uses for me: Babe, Cutie, Girl, etc. It’s very cute). She revoked my phone permission for a bit and sent a message on my behalf: “Shi had temporarily lost texting privileges. She was about to text you all she’s dying”

Now I’ll have you note that I did manage to message “I’m alive” to them in the text just prior to that, so they probably would not have been terribly alarmed. Apparently, I took this photo and sent it to the group. I truly have no recollection of it:

Accompanying the photo was another message:
“Tay d
It’s helping”
…Who knows what that meant, but I guess my texting privileges were not fully revoked 😅

Anyway, a little bit later nurses came back to ask me another round of questions. I was starting to feel a little more composed but still confused. After Pockets came back my anxiety and stress levels shrank to basically nothing. I knew I could depend on her to help navigate the series of questions and that I could just rest. After the questions were over, they asked if I felt OK to get dressed and ready to check out (I think. Truly, this last part is such a blur…). What I do remember is them closing the curtain and Pockets helping me get out of the gown and dressed in real people clothes™️. I was going to walk out on my own but I started feeling really dizzy when I was getting dressed. I asked for a wheel chair. They sent Nascar Nick.

Nascar Nick was my wheelchair driver (I have no idea what this person’s job title is actually called). But, he was funny. He came to my bed and introduced himself, “Hello, my name is Nascar Nick and I’ll be your driver today. To where are we going?” Pockets answered him while I got into the chair. Suddenly we were racing down the halls. It was so much fun. I felt like I was on a roller coaster. I see why they call him Nascar Nick, I thought. He was fast. Pockets kept up, and suddenly we were outside the hospital and getting me into an Uber that was already waiting outside. Then, we were at the hotel, riding the elevator up, and finally I was in bed again, and I knew everything from there would be OK. I had Pockets with me, after all 💕