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Dear Diary:June 1 st

Tomorrow is the day my surgery is scheduled for and I am scared to death. I mean that. I am serious about suicide. I even figured out how to do it. Mother dear has a prescription for sleeping pills, barbiturates. (I think I spelled that right.)

On my way upstairs tonight, I snuck into her bathroom. I looked in her medicine cabinet but there were no bottles of any pills at all. I know she has them. She must have taken them out and hid them. The old bitch knows I don’t want to do this. She hid the pills so I could not end this nightmare.

Why am I so weak? Why can’t I run away? I felt relief when I found out mother dear has the sleeping pills. Am I too much of a coward to kill myself? Will life really be terrible as a girl?

The runaway train is coming to a stop at the station. I am too helpless to jump off.

The morning light is coming through the window blinds. It awakens Robbie the morning after the surgery. He, now she, feels a slight headache. She also has a woozy, fuzzy feeling in her head and a vague memory of where she is and how she got here.

Robbie is in the ICU of the M. Health Fairview University of Minnesota Medical Center. She does not remember that yet, but she is about to find out. There are several tubes running out of her. They are drainage and IV tubes. There is an IV stand to her right. The tubes are attached to bags on it.

Still groggy, Robbie turns her head to the left. The blinds on the windows are open about halfway allowing her a view, sort of. The view is of the building next to this one. It is then she remembers where she is and why.

Slowly and with serious trepidation, Robbie reaches under the bed covers with her right hand. She closes her eyes as she gradually slides her hand down, across her abdomen and onto the space between her legs. Bandages have replaced Robbie’s male genitals. For the first time she realizes it is over, permanently.

Robbie is sore, especially in her crotch and lower abdomen. She is also tired. Never having gone through any surgery before, as the tears leak out of her eyes, she thinks about how much it takes out of the patient. Right now, the only thing she wants is something to drink and to go back to sleep. She lies in bed staring at the ceiling. Suddenly, the door to her private room in the ICU is opened.

“Good, you’re awake,” a female voice says.

Before Robbie can reply, there is a woman with short brown hair, a pleasant face, wearing a blue smock and leaning over her.

“Time to get up, sleepy,” she says.

“Wha…, hmm,” Robbie tries to say then turns her head and coughs twice.

“What?” Robbie is finally able to say with a raspy voice. “No way.”

“Oh, yeah,” the nurse says. “In fact, you’re running late. We need to get you up. Okay?”

“No,” Robbie says while thinking; This woman is a Nazi hiding out from the war crimes commission.

“Trust me, it’ll be okay. The sooner you get up and start moving, the better,” the nurse says. She is walking around the bed to the side by the window. When she gets there, she opens the blinds to let in more light.

“My name is Denise; everyone calls me Denny. I’ll be your nurse while you’re in the ICU. How are you feeling?”

“Not good,” Robbie answered. “Can’t you come back later? Maybe come back next week.”

Denny the nurse smiled, then said, “Nope, sorry, hon. Now’s the time. We’re not going to do much. What I want you to do is grab this railing,” she said referring to the restraining rail along the left side the bed. “Then, pull yourself over and sit up.”

“Okay, I guess I can do that,” Robbie said.

Robbie grabbed the metal railing and pulled. It took almost a full minute, but she did it and she was exhausted from the effort.

“I never, I can’t believe that was so hard,” Robbie said trying to catch her breath.

She was sitting on the edge of the bed, her feet dangling with the tubes strung out across the bed behind her.

“Take it easy. Catch your breath. Believe it or not, you did good. You’re pretty weak right now.”

When Robbie’s breathing was back to normal, Denny started again.

“Slide forward and get your feet on the floor,” she told Robbie.

Robbie complied and Denny said, “Good, now, all I want you to do is stand up. Wait! I’ll help you.”

Denny grabbed ahold of Robbie’s right arm under her shoulder then said, “When I count to three, stand up. I’ll hold you. Okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” Robbie replied while thinking, how hard can this be?

“Here we go. One, two and three,” Denny counted.

Robbie, with Denny firmly grasping her right arm, stood. When she became completely upright, lower abdomen felt like it had exploded and was on fire. The room started to spin; her legs felt like rubber and sweat broke out everywhere on her body. All Robbie could think of were the tubes running back across the bed and what would happen to them if she fell .

“I’m gonna fall, I’m gonna fall, put me down, the tubes…”

“You’re okay, I have you, you won’t fall.

“Sit down,” Denny finally said after what seemed like a half-hour of sheer, burning, pain, and torture. It was only, at most, four or five seconds.

“You’re okay, everything’s good, breathe,” Denny said.

Robbie’s breathing normalized and Denny helped her lie back down.

After lying back down, Robbie asked, “Am I still alive? Are the tubes still okay? That’s all I could think of.”

Denny, laughing said, “Yes, you’re still alive and the tubes are okay. Hey, you did good. How’s the pain?”

“All right, I guess, yeah,” Robbie replied after realizing the pain was just about totally gone.

“I’m serious. You did good. You stayed up for almost five seconds.”

Robbie took a couple of deep breaths then said, “I guess I’m all right. I didn’t think anything could hurt that much.”

“The worst is over. You hungry? You should eat something.”

“After that you want to know if I’m hungry?” Robbie asked. “Actually, I guess I am. How about a Danish and some juice?”

“I’ll have it brought in. I’ll be back in an hour and we’ll do some more,” Denny said.

“More? No, we won’t…”

“Yes, we will, It won’t be nearly as bad. The sooner you get moving, the better. You’ll see.”

Denny the nurse was right. Each time she came in, got Robbie out of bed and moving, was better than the time before. After the third day Robbie was getting up and walking on her own. The next day she was discharged and went home to start her new life as a female.

During her stay in the hospital, Dr. Friedman stopped in to see her, twice. Both times he stayed for an hour, a lot longer than Robbie wanted him to. Freidman would sit on the edge of the bed and hold Robbie’s hand while they talked .

A week after being released, Robbie had appointments with both the surgeon, Dr. Miller, and Friedman, separately of course.

Miller restricted himself to an examination of the surgery. When he finished, he was quite pleased to admit he had done a splendid job, his words. The pain was almost completely gone. Robbie was getting out of bed on her own and going up and down stairs without assistance or even a cane.

Dr. Friedman’s office was across the street from Miller’s. Robbie’s appointment with Friedman was the same day half an hour after Miller’s. Even though they were early, Friedman rushed right out of his office to see them. Priscilla insisted on sitting in. For this, Robbie was quite grateful. Friedman would keep his distance.

“How are you feeling?” was the obvious first question Friedman asked. They were in his office and in their normal chairs.

Mutilated, terribly violated, and of course castrated. I will never make love with a woman as a man, were the real thoughts that went through Robbie’s head.

“Okay, I guess,” Robbie answered.

“Dr. Miller assures me the operation went well. No problems.”

Except I’ll never be a father , Robbie thought.

“Yes, he told me that too,” Robbie said.

“Are you feeling tired?” Freidman asked.

“Yes, very weak.”

“That’s normal with any surgery as serious as this. You’ll need to get as much rest as you can for at least the next two weeks. You should be back to normal activities in five to six weeks.

“Be careful. Don’t overdo it. Nothing strenuous. No driving, heavy lifting exercise, sex or soaking in hot tubs.”

“Yes, I know, Dr. Miller went over all of this and gave me a list of things not to do,” Robbie replied.

Friedman pulled his chair closer, almost to where his knees were touching Robbie’s .

“How are you feeling mentally and emotionally?” Freidman asked.,

Robbie became silent while thinking it over. After more than a minute, Priscilla spoke.

“Roberta, how are…”

“I don’t know, Mother, I’m so drained, so tired, I’m not feeling much of anything.”

“That’s natural, normal. I tell you what, let’s wrap it up today and make an appointment for two weeks from now. Of course, if you feel the need to see me, for anything whatsoever, just call. I’ll make time.

“Go home, rest. Take care of yourself. Don’t do too much,” Friedman reminded her.

When Priscilla heard Friedman tell them they were finished, she bolted upright. It was almost noon and this was a lunch day with the girls. Plus, Priscilla needed a drink.