CW: Pictures with blood I haven’t really been in much of a mood to write lately. I don’t know why. There have been things to write about – Pride, more rejection from family, etc – but none of it really got me motivated enough to open Word. While I do plan on writing about what Pride means to me in a couple weeks, I thought I’d start with chronicling my recent surgery.
As many of you may be aware, I recently had a Facial Feminization procedure. To be more exact, I had a face lift. Before I get going, I wanted to thank everyone who gave so generously and prayed so often for me. Because of you, I was able to raise over $8,000 for the procedure. Now that wasn’t the entire cost, but it was enough to where we could sustain the blow of putting the rest on a medical credit card. I wouldn’t have been able to have this procedure without you. The thing that will always stick with me is the outpouring of love…and money…from people I’ve never met in life. In fact, over 98% came from friends (IRL and online) and strangers.
So, I’ll start from the beginning. As anyone who knows me is aware, I’ve long struggled with gender dysphoria. Had I not had to suffer the effects of testosterone poisoning (first puberty), life would have likely been much easier. But my body was poisoned, and as I aged the effects began to be amplified. Last September, I had talked with Heather about scheduling a consult with a plastic surgeon. I just wanted to hear what they’d have to say. I already had an idea of who I’d like to see. Dr. Angela Sturm is part of a network called Body Affirming Surgeries. She’s also one of the top rated plastic surgeons in Houston. Being part of Body Affirming Surgeries gave me peace of mind. I didn’t have to worry about anti-trans judgement from her, and believe me, that’s a real problem in the medical field.
I went in for my first appointment and she took some pictures from all angles. When I saw them, my dysphoria was immediately triggered. I knew I needed things fixed, but I had no idea just how bad it was. My mind was made up. I had to have these procedures. But before making any commitment, I had to know the cost. That's when I was punched in the gut. My company doesn’t cover any transgender-related procedures, so everything would be out of pocket. But how could I afford that much?! I left Dr. Sturm’s office, got back to the car and broke down in tears. All the reassurances from Heather about how beautiful she thought I was were of no help. I saw the pictures. I know how my mind processed them. I was stuck.
It took about a month to recover from that moment. Once I picked myself up from the floor, I started brainstorming. How could I come up with the money? With impeccable timing, I decided to start a GoFundMe during a global pandemic when we had an astronomically high unemployment rate. It got some traction though, but quickly died off after a couple weeks. We were in November with Christmas right around the corner, disposable income was almost nonexistent in our country, and here I was begging for money for a surgery many people didn’t think was necessary or that they didn’t understand. But, I’m an Aggie so pushing forward with futile efforts is in my blood. Then a miracle happened…
In early November, a friend reached out to me. Her and her wife wanted to help. But they wanted to do more than just make a donation. They wanted to help spur donations beyond just theirs, so they made an offer. If we could get $1,000 in donations over the course of about a week, they’d match every penny. I was blown away! That’s when things really began to change for my fundraising efforts. That’s when this all became very real. That’s when I began to shamelessly flood social media sites with pleas for money. I had another friend donate $500. I started seeing the donations pour in. $10…$25…$50…$100…$250! By the end, we had 75 different donors ranging from friends from Twitter (seriously, I love you all so very much!), to people we used to go to church with, and friends we’ve known for years. Oh, and my big brother Rob and his family! Thank you all!
Late March is when it looked like this was really going to happen soon. I applied for a CareCredit credit card, and based on that approved amount, I knew were only about $1,500 away. But I felt everyone had already been far more generous than I deserved, so how could I ask for more? Then I had an idea. Most people know I hated avocado. I've never hidden it. It was green and squishy. Want to rile people up? Tweet about how disgusting avocado is. I sure know my #WCT family loved to tell me how misguided I was on the topic. So my idea: if I could raise just $500 in the course of a week, I would let Heather video me eating avocado every day for a week. For $1,000, I’d add olives to the menu. That was the one that scared me most. Olives are straight from the pits of hell, and they should all be burned. Not just thrown away, but burned. If you just throw them away, they may sully the landfill they find themselves in.
Well, this took off. It turns out the avocado eaters were really loving the idea of seeing me grossed out by that green mush. There was a one week deadline. We hit $500 in no time. Gulp! Okay, that’s fine. I can suck it up. But please Lord, do not go any higher than $999. They had until midnight on April 3rd to make donations. I went to bed at 11:30pm that night with $790 raised. What I didn’t realize is that my wife stayed up, and got really active on Twitter. Heather’s giggles woke me around 12:30am. She told me to look at my GoFundMe. Right at the finish line, my Twitter family proved how much they hated me and wanted to see me suffer 😉. I stared at my screen. In the final 30 minutes, over $900 more was raised! I finished at $1,600 total for that little fundraiser!
Here is the first of the avocado-eating videos. Needless to say, I struggled.
Of course, my struggles were the source of hilarity for some (seriously, though, I love you Lisa!):
The point of offering to share the videos was for the humor, but they quickly stopped being funny after day 2 because I realized something…I LOVE AVOCADO!!! You can see the moment it hit me below:
The real struggle were the olives. We tried filming that, but we never posted it until now. You’ll see why. I end with my head over a trash can. Seriously, olives are the absolute worst food on this planet!
Back to the surgery story though. The money had been raised. I was ready to reach back out to Dr. Sturm’s office. After a few emails, the date was set – May 20th! I was so excited. Over the next couple months, everything was pretty quiet. It was just a lot of waiting. I went in for a pre-surgery appointment on April 30th, they took some more pictures, and then began the longest 3 weeks of my life!
Finally, the day was finally here! Time to head to Houston. It was May 19th, and I had to go get a pre-surgery COVID test (not fun at all). Our daughter came with us, while my parents watched our son back at our house. I knew I wouldn’t be able to eat after midnight, but that I also needed to be at Houston Methodist by 6:00am the next morning, so we went for an early dinner so I could get plenty of rest. It was also going to be my last beer for a while…eek!
After wrapping up dinner, it was time to head back to the hotel and get the last good night’s sleep that I would have for the next month. Seriously, sleeping with your head elevated while wearing a sling is not ideal for sleep. We woke up early the next morning and made our way to the hospital by 6:00am. It was there that we found out that only one family member could be on the floor with me. Well, they may have told me previously but I forgot. Either way, I had to say my goodbyes to Heather and our daughter down in the hospital lobby. I went upstairs, signed in, and waited until they took me back. After around 15 minutes, I heard my name called and they take me back to a room. I changed into the standard medical robe, put on the hairnet, and proceeded to answer questions from what seemed like a never-ending stream of doctors and nurses.
All was going well until a nurse misgendered me. I get it. My voice sucks. But you have my file right in front of you. You have my hospital bracelet that lists my gender as ‘FEMALE’. I’m always nervous about correcting people, especially when they don’t know me, so I stayed silent. Then my doctor walks in and begins going over my file with the nurse, and it happens again! Dr. Sturm, though, was less nervous about correcting the nurse…twice. What is typically a deflating incident became an encouragement. I love having a doctor who truly cared and affirmed who I am. Then it was time. The wheels on my bed were unlocked, and they began pushing me through the halls. I longed to see Heather again, but we weren’t going to leave our daughter in a hotel or hospital lobby by herself. We make it to the operating room, anesthesia administered, then the next thing I know…I was waking up.
Oh those first 24 hours were rough. I’ve never struggled with anesthesia, but this time it got me. I couldn’t keep anything down. Jello…water…didn’t matter. It all came back up. I hate throwing up. It triggers a lot within me. Decades of struggling with an eating disorder will do that to you, but I had no way of stopping it. Worse than the vomiting, though, was the morphine. I simply hated how it made me feel. I didn’t like the way it seemed to ripple across my body. I could feel it move throughout my system, and it just made me feel more nauseated. I knew I just needed to make it 24 hours. Due to the “one person” rule, I had no visitors. I had to stay overnight though, but knew that Dr. Sturm would be by the next morning to change the bandages, remove the drains, and then I could go back to the hotel with Heather and our daughter.
When Dr. Sturm arrived that next morning, she took my bandages off and took this picture. When she showed it to me, I broke down in tears of joy:
I found out afterwards that Dr. Sturm had called Heather to let her know I was done with surgery, and during the call had told Heather that she was able to remove more skin than expected. As Heather and I had already noticed about her, Dr. Sturm was genuinely excited for me. If you can’t tell, I’m a huge fan! It's such a blessing to find a doctor who genuinely wants to do great for their patient. The bandages were changed, and the drains removed. Now I just needed to be discharged. This took a little longer than expected, but the nurse eventually came, put me in the wheelchair, and then wheeled me to the front of the hospital where Heather and our daughter were waiting.
I was so happy to see them! But I was also feeling like I got hit by a truck. I just wanted to get back to the hotel and go to sleep. Thankfully the Houston roads are nice and smooth, so the drive to the hotel was not painful at all. [/sarcasm] Heather, being the saint she is, had already gone shopping for me. She knows what her wife likes, so there was plenty of applesauce and pudding to be had!
We had to stay at the hotel one more night so I could go back into Dr. Sturm’s office to let them wash my hair (PRAISE THE LORD!!!), change my bandages, and give me the sling I’d have to wear for the next four weeks. I’d wear it 24 hours a day for the next two weeks, and then at night when I sleep for the two weeks after that. Once we finished at the office, we hopped in the car and headed back to College Station.
The swelling would continue to go down, and there were a couple more appointments over the next couple weeks to remove the stitches and staples. After two weeks, the final stitches under my earlobes were removed, and I was ready to return back to work. I had disconnected completely from work during the previous two weeks, which was nice. I cherished the time with Heather and the kids...so much so that I now dream of working remote. That said, I wanted to get back to work so I could show off my new neck and jawline. So that was the story of my surgery. I cannot stress just how much dysphoria has been taken away because of this. When I look in the mirror, I finally see Natalie. There are still things I need to correct, but this was the biggest cause of dysphoria and it’s gone! I felt a peace I haven’t felt in so long, if ever.
I do want to wrap this up with some thanks. Obviously I’m always going to thank my Savior, Jesus Christ. Thank you for not giving up on me. For putting Heather in my life. For strengthening her when most would have told her to leave. Thank you to Heather and the kids. Without your support, this would never have been possible. You were the best nurses ever. You are my best friends. I love you more than anyone on this stupid rock hurtling through space. Thank you to Dr. Sturm. You’re my miracle worker. You gave me something I never thought possible. Thank you to my brother Rob and his wife and kids. Y'all are such great allies, and have been unflinching since the day I came out to you. And thank you to everyone else who donated, prayed, encouraged, and just made it known that you were with us. We’ve lost so many friends and family since I came out, so you all have helped me realize just how important “chosen family” is in our lives. And last, but not least, a special mention of my Twitter friends. I even hesitate to label you “Twitter friends”. You are true friends. You are part of our chosen family. I want to name all of you, but that would require a whole new blog post. So, to our #WCT family, our Anabaptist family, our anarchist family, and everyone in between…thank you and we love you all so dearly. And finally...some more pictures:
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