The big blonde put a small keyboard into my lap and angled the screen of a fancy laptop sitting on the bedside table to where we both could see it.

The nurse picked up a clipboard from some holder on the end of the bed and asked, "Which name does she prefer to go by now?"

I stared past the lumpiness of my chest under the hospital gown to the keyboard. "She? She who?" I typed.

"Lulu Martine," said the blonde and spelled it.

"Lulu, that's cute," said the nurse, writing something on the clipboard.

"My name is Marthy," I typed, saw the error and backspaced to retype.

The blonde smiled at me.

The nurse put the clipboard down and said, "We'll have a nice protein shake for you in an hour or two, Miss Martine. Then the doctors will remove some bandages later tonight and you can probably go home tomorrow. Remember to take small sips so you don’t get strangled.”

“say what?” I typed.

"Thank you, nurse”, said the blonde. "Isn't she a sweetie?"

"Yes, she is," agreed the nurse on the way out.

"she who?" I typed. "you mean the nurse?”

"I did," said the blonde. "But you're a sweetie, too."

"who are you?" I typed.

She laughed. "I'm Alice, of course. Are you being silly?"

I typed, "dunno whats going on?" Already typing was beginning to wear me out.

"Anesthesia," she said, nodding. "Always left me confused too. You'll be okay soon, honey. Oh, the girls are coming to say hello."

"the girls?" I typed. "who?"

"Dixie, Sugar, Tiffany, Bobbi-Sue, LeeAnne, whoever else they can find to come along, I guess. Everyone is so happy for you."

"don't know them do i?” I typed.

She grinned. "Okay, they are all jealous as hell. Some of the real queens won't come, of course; they think you're nuts. But all the t-girls are happy for you and jealous, too, I guess."

"none of that make sense" I typed. I felt tired. I wanted to type a question about what had happened to my chest but I didn't have the energy.

She took the keyboard back. "Why don't you nap for a bit? I'll wake you when the girls get here or the nurse will when she brings your shake."

I didn't want a shake. And a protein shake sounded awful. I wanted to wake up and have the confusion be only a dream. So I nodded and closed my eyes.

"Want me to crank the bed down again?" she asked.

I didn't even nod, too near to sleep already to care about it.

I slept and I dreamed. Very disturbing dreams about a mistake the hospital made. They cut out my testicles, turned my penis inside out to make a vagina, put in breast and butt implants, reshaped my larynx and my face and even did something to my feet.

While I was out–in the dream?–I heard a doctor say, "Hey, this kid has a hernia."

Someone else said, "Well, fix that, too, long as we're in here."

Oh, good, I thought. At least, I won't have to worry about that anymore.