The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike) Part 1545 by Angharad Copyright © 2011 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

The conspiracy seemed to spreading, Simon and Danny had started it and now I saw one or both of those whispering with the two girls who hadn’t contracted the lurgi.

I suppose I could be seen as hypocritical because I couldn’t stand there being secrets in the household and yet I lived my life in denial of a large lump of my past, insisting on the same denial in the lives of Julie and Trish and Billie before she died.

I had all sorts of strategies for justifying my denial–it wasn’t relevant any more, my legal status was confirmed as female; revealing my previous status could adversely affect my children–they all knew anyway; it could adversely affect my own status at the university–the place had a policy to cope with gender and sexual preference issues and to prosecute those who made any negative remarks; it could negatively affect my husband’s professional status–he came on telly and told the world he loved me, silly bugger in spite of my little problem, which was supported by his family.

Part of me felt it was legitimate to move on–we none of us are the same people we were in our childhoods or teens–we grow up by personal development and circumstance, sometimes assisted, sometimes obstructed by our parents and friends. I can also claim the old chestnut which all transsexuals use–I knew I was a girl in a boy’s body, (or vice versa), and seeing as I’m now a girl in a girl’s body, I’m very different.

How much the surgery matters is an individual affair. To me, it mattered quite a lot. It removed any ambiguity–I presented as female because that’s what I am–female. It enabled me to have sex, penetrative sex with a male, and to consummate my relationship with the man I loved. Back in the dark days when I was still struggling with pre-transition issues–i.e. trying to find the confidence to actually bite the bullet, I’d have said I was unsure if I wanted sex with anyone–in fact, I’d have probably baulked at the idea of a relationship with anyone, because I didn’t think I fancied either sex. Then along came Kevin the mechanic and liberated my libido which later fixated on Simon, thankfully.

Yeah, I was a woman–how did I know? I felt I was one, others accepted me as one without a second glance and I seemed to fit their check list of how women appeared and acted, without being aware of doing anything but what came naturally. Okay, so it’s totally delusional. As Janice Raymond so kindly pointed out, it’s really a conspiracy by the male medical profession to undermine the women’s movement.

I snorted to myself as I thought this last bit. The fact that I was thinking any of this showed my confidence was still paper thin on some things. On a good day I could stand my ground with anyone, on a bad one, let’s just say it wasn’t as good. I believe it’s a relatively common occurrence with new women.

Danny and the girls were whispering in the lounge and stopped when I went in to call them for dinner. Was I becoming paranoid, or were they out to get me? What really annoyed me were the silly looks and giggles they’d give when I interrupted them. However, I’d made my mind up not to say anything so I stuck to it.

I ate my dinner in silence, save for occasional snappy remarks to the children. Simon accused me of being irritable, and I left the table and my unfinished meal and went to check on my patients. I’d taken them fruit and biscuits, and drinks. None of them were really interested in much more than the drinks and the paracetamol/Calpol.

I gave Catherine some milk–old fashioned way–and she managed to suckle a little before her nose began running and she blocked up and had to breathe through her mouth. It distressed her, and I comforted her while she sobbed herself back to sleep–or was she comforting me? I felt like crying too.

Stella was able to feed Fiona and drank some energy drink herself while I force fed Puddin’ some milk and biscuits–little sod nearly took my finger off–they were chocolate biscuits. I also got an agreement from her to eat some ice cream.

Julie was trying to listen to her iPod, but kept falling asleep, and Puddin’ followed me asking for ice cream. If I’d put some white cream on her skin she’d have looked like raspberry ripple with her pink spots. Julie decided she’d like some ice cream as well. Of course when the children downstairs saw me dishing up ice cream, they wanted some too, and I had to send Simon out with Trish to get some more. Although we had an ice cream making machine, I didn’t have the time or energy to make some.

I asked Simon to get me some extra milk, pudding rice, and sugar–I thought I’d make a real rice pudding tomorrow and see if I could tempt my patients with comfort foods–if I couldn’t–I’d eat them, the pudding–doh.

Of course, they went off whispering and returned doing the same thing. This time I challenged them, and they claimed they were just indulging in a private joke. I didn’t believe them, told Simon he and Tom could put the girls to bed as I was going to mine–now. I ran up the stairs and shut my door loudly. Ten minutes later I was tucked up in bed reading more adventures of Commissario Guido Brunetti and his tussles with the criminals and corruption in Venice. I decided I’d like to go there one day and see the pollution for myself–I might also get a chance to see the Italian dormice in their natural habitat, and as I’ve never been to Italy, have a butchers at the place possibly Rome or somewhere as well. It does no harm to dream, does it?

I heard a knock at my door and ignored it. “Cathy?” came Caroline’s voice.

“Yes?” I called back in irritation.

“The baby has been sick–d’you want me to...”

I got out of my nice warm bed, and pulling on a cardigan, went to see what sort of mess little Cate was in. It was total–we had to strip the bed and wash her, including her hair, which went down like the proverbial lead balloon. So it was the best part of an hour later when I got back to bed where Simon was sitting reading my book.

I asked him for it back and he grumbled and handed it to me. “What’s your problem?” he asked.

“I’m tired.”

“Just that, is it?”

“Yeah, why shouldn’t it be?”

“No reason, except you’ve been going at the kids a bit the last day or so.”

“Have I?”

“Yes, you have.”

“Okay, you can look after them all tomorrow, and Caroline and I will go shopping.” Before he could reply I turned round, switched off my light and lay down with my back to him. See how he likes conspiracy.