Neo-Vagina Monologue 8

The Scariest Thing I Have Ever Done

The scariest thing I have ever done was introducing myself to my own vagina after SRS.

When I was young, I was scared of the dark. And monsters, and all that sort of thing. I was particularly scared that late at night I might look into a dim bathroom mirror, and something else not me would be looking back. As I grew into adulthood, these fears dropped away. I came to believe that most of the things we fear are really reflections of the fears we have of looking inside ourselves, for what ugliness and pain we might find there. When my day to day life became nothing more than a state of deep despair, I discovered I had no fears. I was already living the worst that can happen.

Miraculously, I discovered a single crucial key that was missing from my life, which was my gender identity. I had been living my life as a man, but I am in fact a woman! I rapidly climbed out of that pit of despair by applying Harry Benjamin’s triadic therapy: I began living as a woman full time. I changed my body’s hormonal balance to female using transdermal estrogen patches. And I planned for the Big One—SRS, Sex Reassignment Surgery.

Living as a woman, I found that life was beautiful and full of promise. My old fears did not return. I liked what I saw in the mirror, even late at night. I now knew that there would only be me looking back.

So I was unaccustomed to the feel of real fear that I felt yesterday. Trembling, shivery fear.

I did not fear my SRS. I would have, if I had known how much it would hurt. It hurt like hell! But the other girls never complained about it, so I did not worry. Bitches!

I made it through okay. Nine days later, it still hurt, in a variety of ways. But it was not scary, not intolerable. What was scary was getting to know my new vagina.

Monday, exactly one week after my surgery, my “vet” Dr. Annette Cholon had me in to the office for a check-up. A cheerful, pixie-ish young blonde woman, Dr. Cholon greeted me with a smile. After a few prelimnaries, she pulled out the surgical stent which had resided in my new vagina since the surgery. The stent is a form to hold the shape of the vaginal cavity. It is a white flexible foam core surrounded by a clear plastic balloon, somewhat thicker than a toy balloon. It is about 6 inches long (my depth is about 5 inches) and the balloon part can be expanded to increase the diameter of the stent. I didn’t even realize when Dr. C pulled it out, which surprised me, as I expected it to hurt. The doc cleaned me up and handed me a mirror to give me the grand tour of my new vulva. But first she warned me that it was extremely swollen, so I shouldn’t expect it to look pretty!

Here at the top was the clitoris, which was not yet sensate. (I’ve been told that in some cases it may take months for feeling to return to the wickedly insulted nerve bundle.) Below that I could easily see where the catheter tube left the urethra. Below that was a huge ugly purple swollen mess! Dr. C explained that she split open an extra length of the urethra tube and sewed it in place here between the urethra and the vaginal opening, where it will create moist pink mucosa after the swelling goes down. This will give a little bit of lubrication, and an attractive appearance. But for now it is extremely swollen and looks very ugly. I probably had a little hematoma leaking fluid under it last week, causing excessive swelling. This will either go down by itself over time, or a little follow-up surgery may be necessary.

Below that was the vaginal opening, which frankly I could not see at all. Then another lump of skin, and then my anus—a familiar face at last! {smile} Labia majora and minora were formed from my former scrotum, all ready to close up coyly once the swelling goes down.

This was the first time since the surgery that I’d really looked at my new parts, and I wasn’t looking too closely even yet. There were too many other pains and things to worry about.

Dr. Cholon had me lay back on the examining table, and I got my first real pelvic exam. Feet in stirrups, speculum, etc. I had had my feet up in the stirrups once before in one of my SRS pre-exams, and had been rather tickled by the experience. This time, it held no charm! It wasn’t painful, or embarrassing (though I do like having a female SRS surgeon), just something to get done.

The doc told me to try to relax, and she would re-insert the stent. She asked me if I’d like to do this myself, but I declined. I took a deep breath and exhaled, and it was done. It didn’t hurt at all, much to my surprise. Doc inflated it with 20cc’s of air from a large hypo. That didn’t hurt either, much to my relief, as it had nearly killed me (I felt) a few days earlier in the hospital.

Dr. Cholon told me I should take the stent out when I needed to have a bowel movement. She said I should get to know my new vagina. I could probe around with a finger (she advised that I clip a couple of my long, sharp fingernails) and feel it inside and out. She gave me some sterile gloves and a hypo for pumping up the stent.

I trusted Dr. Cholon, and I felt safe in her hands. But I was very nervous about being on my own with my new equipment. Frankly, I hoped I wouldn’t need a bowel movement between then and my next appointment two days later. But yesterday bitch Mother Nature came calling.

Around noon, I started feeling like I might need a bowel movement. As I had been eating very little, I hoped it would just be gas as it usually was. But I got myself to the toilet in my master bathroom, and it soon became clear that something more serious was happening. A cold sweat broke out on my forehead as I realized it was zero hour for me. I was scared. I knew it was unlikely that anything would go wrong, but the sheer fear of the unknown was upon me. And I was all on my own. I had to do this thing, all by myself.

Something needed to give, so I began tugging at the stent. Without much trouble, and no pain, it slid out. A bloody mess, but by goodness, it was out. Lord help me now! I grabbed a Kleenex and laid the bloody stent aside on it. “Relax,” I instructed myself. But I was scared. What else might come pouring out of my body? Vaginal lining? Pancreas? I had my first decent bowel movement for a week, but I knew the stool was moving there right by my new vagina. Would anything be damaged? I had to strain a little bit to get it out, and that scared me. Would I burst some stitches? What else could go wrong?

Of course nothing went wrong, and after a few minutes, that part of the operation was completed. I wiped delicately (front to back, ladies! We never want anus stuff moving forward!) and stood sorely. I shuffled to the sink and washed my hands and the bloody stent off with anti-bacterial soap.

“In for a penny, in for pound,” I mumbled to myself. I might as well shower now, while the stent is out. The doc had given me permission to shower, as long as I didn’t let the water stream directly into any of my various tubes, so no having the stent tubes was a good thing. I got the water running hot and stepped in, still tethered with the catheter to my urine bag, which I hung on the shower door handle. I avoided the main stream of water as much as possible, leaning my head and then my two arms into it bit by bit. It felt great to wash my hair, although this wasn’t as big a deal for me as many girls have found it to be. Mainly, I was relieved to direct a gentle wash of water over my new vulva, which frankly had gotten to stink like hell. (“Does somebody smell tuna?” “If so, it’s gone bad!”)

I was massively relived as I showered that nothing fell out and there was no stream of blood or other ooze. But the scariest part was yet to come. I still had to put the stent back in, and I still had not really confronted my new vagina.

Trembling slightly with cold and fear, I dried myself off lightly, and gathered all my materials in large empty area on the floor of my master bedroom. (I don’t think you can have SRS if you live in a small apartment. Just looking at all the junk in my bathroom alone..) A big pillow to elevate my butt, and one for my head. A disposable bed pad to save the pillows and rug from all the various fluids I expected to be dripping and flying about. A clean white towel over that, and some extra towels and wash cloths. A roll of paper towels. Disposable rubber gloves. K-Y Jelly (Surgi-lube, actually.) A mirror. I turned on some bright lights. I found a fingernail clipper, and clipped down and filed smooth the index and middle fingernails on my right hand.

I laid down on my back on the floor, hips and head elevated on the pillows. I crooked my knees and spread my legs, just like in all the pictures. I took the mirror in hand, and moved it down where it gave me a clear view of my vulva. Hello, girl, there you are. Just like in Dr. Cholon’s office, except this time it was just you and me. I studied the structures that Dr. C had pointed out to me the day before. Gently I touched this, and then that. Not much sensation anywhere at this point. I had thought I had felt some sensation in the clitoris the day before, but not so. Just some of the stitching was a bit sensitive. (I was still on pain pills, of course.)

I put a rubber glove on my right hand, and lubed it with some K-Y. I would attempt to probe my new vagina. At first I couldn’t find it. Where was the opening? Oh, I was feeling too low, close to the anus. It is above that lump of flesh, but below the next. Still, there didn’t seem to be any opening there. I probed gently, and found I could spread the opening. It was sort of a horizontal slit, there between the two very swollen lumps of flesh. But it was very smooth. I could slide my finger in. It was very smooth inside. It went in a little bit, and then curved up. My finger could not detect an end to it. I could feel some stitches on the front side of the canal.

There was very little sensation inside, as outside. It was very easy for me to slide back in the lubed stent. I injected 20cc of air and that familiar packed feeling returned.

And that was that. I had met my new parts, and they were good. At least, they have the potential to be good, I believe. Frankly, right now it is hard to imagine ever getting sexual pleasure from these new organs. But I will leave that for later. For now, I just want it all to stop hurting! At this point, a vagina seems to me to be in the same class as a boat or a swimming pool—you’re better off having a friend who lets you use theirs, than to have all the upkeep and maintenance of owning your own.

I’m still a little bit afraid that something will go wrong in the healing process. I know that whatever happens, it can be dealt with. But I’m afraid of more pain. I’m afraid of causing my own troubles by doing something stupid to myself. I’m afraid of the aches that I know will happen at each dilation session. I’m afraid I’ll never stop pissing all over myself every time I need to pee. Some fear has returned to my life, but they are real fears. I’m not afraid of what’s inside anymore. Not of what’s inside my psyche, or my vulva. And I hope I never ever have a story that tops this one, The Scariest Thing I Have Ever Done.

Lannie Rose

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