The morning after I telephoned my mother from Brisbane, I went for my next appointment with Dr Brentwell. This was my third appointment with him, and I still felt nervous. I was hoping against hope that he might give me the longed for news that I could start on hormones. At the back of my mind though was a little voice whispering that he might never say that, and instead would tell me that in his opinion I would never achieve the degree of womanhood that I sought, and it might be better to stop now. I would rather he said nothing than say that. Once more I felt myself shaking as I stood up and followed him into his consulting room. I had dressed carefully for the occasion. It was warm, and I was wearing a yellow cotton dress with a flower pattern. I wore small gold earrings (Jenny had kindly pierced my ears previously), and a small gold pendant around my neck. The set was a gift from John, and I loved wearing it, especially at times like this, as it made me feel closer to him. I was anxious to look feminine, but had a fear of going 'over the top' and looking like a drag queen. Jenny assured me I had nothing to worry about. I sat in the big armchair, carefully spreading and smoothing my skirt. Dr Brentwell, glanced down at his notes, and then looked up and smiled.

“So, it's been a month since our first meeting. How have things been going?”

“Very well, I think,” I replied. “As you know, after my first appointment with you I went to obtain the breast forms as you suggested, and while I don't know how real breasts would feel of course, I think they are a good substitute, certainly better than stuffing my bra with stockings. I found that the extra weight of them made me adjust my posture and I'm told that I walk in a more feminine way now. I also went to a beauty parlour where they did some work on me, and I was very pleased with the results. All in all, these changes have given me a huge confidence boost.”

“You should be very happy with your progress,” he said. “You had already made a good start in presenting as a female when I first saw you, but I see significant progress month by month.”

Our conversation continued for about thirty minutes, and I was soon relaxed and speaking to him openly and freely of all that was happening in my life.

“Is there anything bothering you?” he said.

“Only one thing, and perhaps it's stupid, but since I'm undergoing such a profound change in my life, I'm concerned that I might become too self-absorbed and neglect the people around me.”

“That's a very perceptive and mature thing to say,” he said. “It's an easy thing to do, but the fact you are aware of it means that you can guard against it.”

We carried on chatting for a few more minutes and I sensed that he wasn't going to bring up the subject of hormone therapy this time. Perhaps I had been to impatient, after all, it was only my third visit. Finally he asked me if there was anything more I would like to say. I hesitated, and then blurted out

“I'm probably out of line in mentioning this, but at the first visit to see you I was very frightened.”

“It's natural to fear the unknown,” he replied.

“Yes, but I saw the girl who had the appointment after me and she looked absolutely terrified. I can't get the look on her face out of my mind.”

“Miss Cobb, you've heard of patient confidentiality. I can no more discuss another patient with you, than I could you with another patient.”

He wasn't admitting to anything, but I knew that out of all the patients he must have seen, he knew exactly who I was talking about.

“I tried to offer her some words of reassurance, but I doubt if she even heard me,” I went on and stopped, feeling that at any moment he would order me out of his office.

“Miss Cobb, let me assure you that we treat everyone equally here, and always do our very best for them as I'm sure you are aware.”

He half smiled then and said “I am in danger of breaking my own rules now, but your gesture did you credit, and yes, she did hear you. And now, if you'd like to see my secretary, I'll see you again in another month.”

I stood up and smoothed out my skirt. “Thank you doctor. I'll try not to be so indiscreet again.”

I never did see that young woman in Dr Brentwell's rooms again. By chance or design? I'll never know. I paid my account and said to Jenny, “Lunch, beauty parlour and shopping?” and Jenny nodded her head in vigorous agreement.

We returned to the beauty parlour outside which I'd had my mini-meltdown. I felt the best way was to face it and get over it. The girls there were lovely, welcoming us both with open arms, and they escorted me to a chair in the main salon without even mentioning the 'discreet area'. I was secretly pleased that they had no qualms that I would 'frighten the horses'. Jenny was ushered into the next chair, and after an hour of pampering, we let feeling marvellous and headed for the shops.

We both tried on a number of outfits of course. I had taken to clothes shopping like the proverbial 'duck to water'. I finally settled on a lovely skirt, keeping my promise to John that I would be much more restrained in my shopping this time. Jenny chose a beautiful green cotton dress that contrasted wonderfully with her red hair. I knew she had agonised over the price, and when she finally made up her mind and moved to the counter, I pulled out my purse.

“No, Lesley, you've been too generous. This is getting embarrassing.” she protested. I feared this might happen, but I had a trump card.

“It's not me paying this time Jenny, it's John. When I left yesterday I was under strict instructions to pay for something on John's behalf as his personal 'thank you' gift for all that you've done for me. If you don't let me pay, then I will be in terrible trouble when I get back. He might even put me over his knee and spank me!”

“And you'd hate that of course,” said Jenny, and we both giggled like schoolgirls.

“I'm sure I can think of something else to make him do it,” I said between gasps of laughter.

“You know we are both very lucky women,” said Jenny, suddenly serious “We have two of the most wonderful men in the world.”

“I know, and we'll never take them for granted,” I replied.

Another month flew by. There is always plenty to do on a cattle station, so I certainly wasn't sitting around counting down the days to my trips to Brisbane, although as the day grew closer, a certain amount of excitement inevitably built up inside me. Would this be the month Dr Brentwell finally gave me the news I longed to hear, or had he already sensed what an impatient person I was, so was testing me to see if I could control myself. I did my very best to stay calm, since there was nothing I could do about it, and made up my mind whatever happened, I would not be the one to bring up the subject of hormones.

For this trip I wore a very pretty pink skirt with a white cotton blouse, and my 'lucky charm' ear-rings and pendant from John. I wore stockings, and shoes with three inch heels now that I was thoroughly adjusted to my 'breasts' and the change they had made to my 'centre of gravity'. I took special care with my make-up and hair as usual. At least after that first marathon clothes buying session I knew that my attire did not scream 'country' and that I blended in very nicely with all the other Brisbane women. This was the object of the exercise of course — to be 'invisible'. When I look back at all the trouble I took for my visits to Dr Brentwell, was I subconsciously flirting with him and trying to use 'womanly wiles' to get him to do what I wanted? If so, I'm sure he was well aware of it, and it might have even counted in my favour as a further step on my road to womanhood.

Once more he complimented me on the way my appearance as a woman was improving at each session, and we discussed how I was finding living as a woman, which of course for me was exactly as I wanted to live. We carried on chatting for a few more minutes, until he finally put down his notes and looked straight at me.

“I know you are desperately awaiting my decision concerning hormone therapy, and I will not keep you on tenterhooks. In view of our discussions, the way you now present, and the results of your blood tests, I'm happy to tell you that I am recommending that you commence on hormone therapy immediately.” He wrote a note on a piece of paper and said, “You can take this to Dr Hall now if you like. He is expecting you in about thirty minutes."

Whatever my inclinations might be, I knew it would not be appropriate to throw my arms around his neck and kiss his cheek, no matter how much I felt like it. Instead I managed to gasp, with tears in my eyes

“Thank you so much doctor, you know I've been longing to hear you say that.”

“I notice that your friend Mrs Green has come with you again. Would you like to invite her come in here and learn your news?”

“Oh yes, doctor.” I walked out to the waiting room and asked Jenny to come with me. She told me later that seeing the tears in my eyes, she feared for a moment that I had bad news, and that she was required for moral support. Dr Brentwell was 'old school', and stood as Jenny entered the room.

He waited until she had taken a chair beside me facing his desk and said “Good morning Mrs Green, I am very pleased to make your acquaintance. Now would you like to tell Mrs Green your news Lesley?”

I looked at Jenny and said,. “It's wonderful news, Jenny, I'm going on hormones.”

Jenny beamed “I so pleased for you, Lesley." and then looking at Dr Brentwell “I'm sure you know how much she was counting on hearing that.”

“I have no doubt in my mind that Lesley will complete her transition, should she choose to do so. In my experience, my clients who have support from their family and friends transition more quickly and more successfully than those who do not. I'm sure that as her principal female friend, you are playing a significant role in her progress.”

Now it was Jenny's turn to blush as she said, “I feel privileged to help in any way I can.”

“Lesley,” said Dr Brentwell, “Would you mind if I spoke to Mrs Green privately for a few minutes?”

I was puzzled but said “Not at all. I'll wait for you outside, Jenny”, and I went to the receptionist to pay the account.

“What was all that about?” I quizzed Jenny when she appeared a few minutes later.

“There's no secret,” she replied. “He wanted to get a non-family perspective of how you were going, and I reassured him on that account. He also warned me that when you start the hormones, you will be going through a phase like puberty, and I should be prepared for possible tantrums and emotional outbursts at times.”

I now had an appointment with Dr Hall, the endocrinologist, and didn't want to be late in case he was busy. A man in his sixties, he was also 'old school', and I could see why he and Dr Brentwell worked so well together. He ran through the results of my blood tests, which of course meant little to me, although I was pleased to hear my haemoglobin was good.

“In summary, all these results are good, so I am ready to start you on hormone therapy. You will be taking Oestradiol, a female hormone of course, and the result of this should be to gradually drop your testosterone level to a normal level for females. It may surprise you to learn that females have a measurable amount of testosterone in their system, just as men have some oestrogen in their bodies too. I will have to monitor your levels with blood tests, initially once a month, and then at less frequent intervals if all is going well. You have already been warned that you may encounter mood swings as a result of this medication changing your blood hormone levels. This is quite usual, but if you have any serious concerns, you are welcome to ring me at any time. You will encounter a number of physical changes over time, including natural growth of your breasts, softening of your skin, and a redistribution of body fat. One bonus is that it protects you from heart and blood vessel disease which is why women on average live five years longer than men.” He handed me a card with his name and phone numbers on it.

“I know you've already had blood tests taken, but I would like another baseline testosterone level to be taken before you start the oestrogen. There is a pathology collection centre just down the hall. The results will go to me as well as Dr Brentwell. He can monitor you and refer you to me if there is anything unusual happening.”

Finally, he wrote out a prescription in that indecipherable scribble all doctors must learn at medical school, and my appointment was over. I had noticed that there was a pharmacy strategically located in a building with so many medical specialists, and in no time, I was leaving with the precious box of medication.

I paid my account and said to Jenny, “Beauty parlour, lunch and shopping?”

We walked down the street and entered the parlour chatting to each other only to be met with looks of dismay from the staff.

“Mrs Green, Miss Cobb, I'm so sorry. There has been a mix-up with our bookings, and we only have one vacancy at this time. Is it possible for one of you to come back in an hour?”

Jenny wanted her hair cut, whereas I was only going to have my eyebrows and nails done, so I insisted that she go first, and I would do a little window shopping and come back later. I walked down the street, gazing in the shop windows, especially the clothes shops of course, and carefully avoiding the temptation to go inside them. I reached a point where a narrow road, more of an alley I suppose, led off the busy main street, and a sign high on the wall pointed to a jewellers. What girl can resist jewellery?

It was unusually quiet in the alley as I gazed into the brightly lit window and the baubles it contained. The voice behind, startled me. It was loud and ugly.

“Girly likes pretty things, does she?”

I slowly lifted my head and saw the reflection in the glass. Three coarse-looking youths were standing behind me. This did not feel good.

The ringleader tried again. “Show us yer tits and I might buy yer something.”

I slowly turned around with the idea of running into the shop but now I realised there were four of them, and one had strategically placed himself in front of the door. I tried to stay calm and think. Surely someone in the shop would come out and help me or at least call the police? The alley was still empty. I did not speak. My voice was quite feminine, but if I gave them the slightest hint that I was transgender, that would only make a bad situation infinitely worse. Where were the police? Surely they should be here by now? The boys were inching closer, and I didn't like the look in their eyes as they started to chant “Show us yer tits. Show us yer tits.” Their eyes bulged, and they were sweating badly, perhaps they weren't as brave as they were making out.

Salvation came in the form of a distant siren. I have no idea if it was police, ambulance of fire brigade, but I looked over their heads down the empty alley and gasped “Thank God! The police at last!”

They all spun around and in that instant, I slipped off my shoes and ran for my life.

To be continued.