It’s Tuesday September 21, 2021, exactly one week after my spinal fusion surgery (see Surgery post), and all is well, or at least as well as to be expected after such an event. It was scary, I’m not going to lie, and I had a lot of anxiety and reservations going into it. The mind goes to dark places, like “what if the surgeon slips 1/16th of an inch when he’s close to my spinal cord and I end up a quadriplegic, or worse?!” Such things are possible, though extremely rare I suppose. Fortunately, that did not happen, and overall, the experience was quite positive.
It started out a little shakey, what with all the back-and-forth with the insurance company and the hospital (see Surgery post). And the morning of was also a little off-putting, as at Long Beach Memorial Hospital (LBMH) their practice is to corral all of the morning’s surgery patients into this little prep area with individual changing rooms, and it felt a lot like getting prepared to go to prison (not that I have any first-hand experience with that). The last thing I did before they called me into the prep area, was kiss and say goodbye to Eric, which of course made me tear up immediately. It was early (5:15 AM), I hadn’t had any coffee, was feeling nervous and out of sorts, and the LBMH intake procedure did nothing to comfort me: strip down, wipe off, clothes and all belonging in separate plastic bags, paper gown on tied in the back.
When a nurse took me into the inner chamber of the prep area, though, things went a little better. A very nice nurse named Denise got me situated in a bed, covered with a warm blanket, and hooked up to all manners of monitors. She had all sorts of questions (many of which I’d been asked before and would be asked again by others) and forms for me to sign, but in between all the business she asked about me (how’d I get into chemistry, etc.) and shared some stuff about herself (both her son and husband went to school on the east coast, Cornell and RPI, respectively), and that helped me relax and take my mind off things a bit. I met the OR nurse (Geraldine) and the anesthesiologist (I forget his name, but he was very kind), and then my surgeon (Dr. Verma) came by. Everything happened very efficiently and before I knew it they were wheeling me off to the OR, and then I don’t remember anything until I woke up in recovery.
My experience in recovery was especially good. A wonderful nurse named Laura took care of me. She gave me some desperately needed ice water, and talked very soothingly to me as I came to, appropriately gendering me and using my correct name. She asked about the transition and told me she plays ice hockey with a league that includes a number of trans women and how much she loved them. We laughed and joked and she told me in all likelihood I’d be discharged within a couple hours, which was a huge relief as I anticipated having to stay at least one night in the hospital. Dr. Verma came by shortly thereafter and, sure enough, he said as long as I could sit upright for a bit and pee, I was free to go home. He also said that, while it was a much more challenging surgery than he’d anticipated because of the number of bone spurs there were, it was nonetheless successful and that I did great.
After Dr. Verma left, Laura helped me sit up in a recliner, which was one of the most comfortable (but hideous) chairs I’ve ever sat in, then walked me to the restroom, where I peed immediately. Then it was back to the chair to wait for Eric to pick me up. I was home by mid-afternoon, resting comfortably (enough) in my own bed, neck brace and all:
I’ve been taking oxycodone for the past week to help with the pain, which, oddly enough, is localized on the other side of my neck and spine. The oxy does help with the pain, but also makes me quite loopy, and constipated. That’s actually been the worst part of all the—the constipation. Ordinarily I’m as regular as clockwork, but until Sunday morning I hadn’t had a decent bowel movement, and things were starting to feel very backed up. Luckily, I was able to force one out, and although it took quite a while and was considerably painful, was also a tremendous relief. It’s still a little slow-going in that department, but I think I’m starting to get back on track.
To pass the time while lying in bed over the last week I listened to the audio version of “The Best American Short Stories, 2020,” which was excellent. And, having listened to so many hours of wonderful short stories, I started composing one myself in my head. When I was able to sit up with my laptop at the table on Saturday, I started writing it down, and by Sunday it was finished (or at least a draft of it was finished). It’s called “On the Eleventh Floor,” and it’s about a single woman living on Manhattan’s upper east side, in her 59th year, who suddenly becomes part of a group of four friends, including her new next-door neighbor. The foursome spends the pre-pandemic year together exploring the city and planning a big joint birthday party for themselves for the spring of 2020, only to have it all come to a halt with the onset of the pandemic. But they each become transformed through the pandemic and grow even more connected as friends. I think it’s actually not bad for a first attempt. I’ve always wanted to write a piece of fiction but have never been inspired until now. I think the HRT is really awakening that part of my brain, and I’m absolutely loving it.
Yesterday, Monday September 20, I started working again (remotely). It was a pretty full day of Zoom meetings, as is today, and surprisingly I’m managing just fine. I don’t know that I would have had the strength to actually go into the office, but thanks to all of our training during the pandemic, working remotely is doable option.
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