My face still feels tight. I am pleased with the results. I think.

Hair:
My hair has constricted my face, or advanced itself, depending on how you want to look at it. There is still some recession, but it's smaller and relative to a much more advanced hairline.

There are things that can go wrong still. If the scalp advance doesn't work right, I can ( Read more... )

I'm not sure what to blame for this fatigue. Or credit it. You see, I don't mind this state of exhaustion ( Read more... )

And I'm back. It's all done. The sutures are out, leaving little blood-dotted tracks across my forehead like a map to I don't know where. Flakes of hair shed around the suture line. Hope that stops soon. A shallow grove runs under my nose. In my mouth, tangles of dissolvable/edible sutures slowly recede across two streak-like lesions.

This knocked ( Read more... )

Progress.

Small children stare at me. Men offer me their seats.

On Saturday I went to see Iron Man with Ruby and Scott. Ruby was nice enough to hold my arm as I held the other out in a gesture that could be read as either "My face is too swollen for me to see you beyond where my hand is" or could also mean "Pardon me. I could lose my balance."

Good ( Read more... )

The swelling is going down now. I can close my lips now, which makes eating not just easier, but possible. Everything looks like it's healing fine. Just under the swelling, there is a visible difference.

The idea that I might come out of this with a regular female-looking face seems too good to be true. Transition is often a matter of trading high ( Read more... )

Rapid-fire collage of sepia-muted images. Insect-like movement. Bees clustered on a honeycomb. Pedestrians in a park viewed from above.

I must be dreaming. I'll wake up now.

I open my eyes and the world comes back on me with a rush. Busy people. Flourescant lights. A gurney's edge.

"Where am I?"

Questions come back at me. Name. Birthdate. Etcetera.

( Read more... )

Swelling has narrowed my vision to a tear-streaked La-Forge-esque strip.

Indeed.It feels like I have taken a small muppet, stretched it and shoved my head up its ass until it fits like a belaclava.

Fortunately, I'm not having trouble sleeping on my back. I am having trouble with stress/narcotic-induced repetitive dreams that gradually turn sour and ( Read more... )

Boston. My Mum is asleep across the room. Bless her.

Lots of running around in the morning (appointment at 9am / 6am BC time), and everything seems set. Bloodwork is in. Anesthesiologist is done. Pre-surgical consult is good, I think. The American medical system makes me twitchy, but everyone seems nice, and much better at ther jobs than they are at ( Read more... )

Anxious about surgery.

Concentrate on the good parts, not the bad. Or at least remember the good parts.
In cognitive behavioural therapy, this is called "modifying self-talk"

What if something goes wrong while I'm out.
          I'm not getting heart surgery; they're not going to crack my ribcage.
          They're barely opening me up. This isn't ( Read more... )

Another interesting side effects of wild hormonal shifts from the female to the male (adimttedly right after one huge stressor, and right before another) is a change in appetite. I have no idea where I am putting all this food, or how it is that I feel "full" but not "stuffed." None at all.

In totally unrelated news, my pants seem to be getting ( Read more... )