Easy Peasy Lemon Squeezy.
by Angharad.
part 233.

"Swab," the surgeon was sweating as he worked on me.

I could feel everything he was doing to me, but I could neither move nor speak. The agony extended from my groin to the rest of my body. I could hear the tissue squishing and smell the burning of the electro cautery as he cut through my flesh.

"Retractor," the surgeon began to push and shove at my body, which was balanced on a lithotomy stool to make my groin more accessible. I wanted to scream, the pain was so bad, each push sent new agonies through my body.

Then I heard the scream. At first it seemed a long way off but it was getting closer. Then I realised it was me that was screaming, I felt hands grab me and I tried to fight them off.

"Cathy, it's me Simon, wake up, wake up it's just a dream."

His voice seemed hard to understand I was so frightened, but I was held so tightly, I couldn't move. Finally I opened my eyes and Simon was lying beside me holding me tightly.

The door burst open and Stella's voice asked, "Is everything alright?"

"Yeah, Cathy had a bad dream."

I was still breathing hard and my nightdress was wet with sweat. "I'm okay, it was horrible."

"What happened?" asked Stella.

"I dreamt I was on the operating table and they hadn't anaesthetised me properly and I could feel it all but I couldn't tell them."

"Ouch! Don't worry, the anaesthetist who will be looking after you is very good, that won't happen. Even if it did, they would know because your heart rate and blood pressure would rocket and that is being monitored all the time."

"Phew!" I sighed, "it was really scary."

"Are you sure you want this surgery, because if you have any doubts you need to say so now." Stella sat on the side of the bed.

"I don't think I have any doubts, I'm just terrified of the operation."

"Don't have it then."

"What! I have to."

"Why do you have to?"

"Because...."

"Because what?"

"Because I want to be a woman."

"And this operation is going to make you one?"

"Yes."

"Cathy, being a woman happens between the ears not the legs. No operation can make you a woman, you already are one. It might make you more female, but it won't make you more of a woman."

"But I need it," I felt myself starting to cry.

"Why do you need it? If you are having such worries about it, is it worth it?"

"Yes, I've wanted this for so long."

"But why have you wanted it?"

"To feel complete."

Simon continued to hold me, "You don't need to have it if you don't want to."

"But I do want it, I want to be your wife. I know I can't have your children but I want to be your wife in all other respects."

"I know you do babes, but the surgery seems to scare you so much."

"I'm such a coward," I sobbed.

"No you're not, anything but," offered Stella.

"I could still sort of marry you without surgery," said Simon.

"No you couldn't, I wouldn't agree to it. I'm having this surgery if it kills me."

"If it does that I should be very cross," said Simon.

"I wouldn't be too pleased either," I added before realising the absurdity of what I'd said.

"Oh dear would that mean you'd be rushing about the place knocking on tables and things?"

"Oh yes, rapping on anything, keeping you awake with unearthly wailings."

"You do that now," said Stella.

"Oh, that is very dispiriting to hear."

Stella looked at me then at Simon and began to giggle, then she fell off the bed. I looked down at her, she was lying on her back still giggling unable to get up.

Simon was snorting partly at my unconscious joke and partly at Stella falling off the bed. That started me off and we all roared with laughter for several minutes.

I did eventually get out of bed and try to help Stella up, each effort setting off her giggles again. Finally, she did rise and then suggested a cuppa. It was two in the morning of New Year's Eve, but I agreed, I felt less sleepy than I would were it mid morning. Simon opted to stay in bed.

I changed my damp nightie and then threw on my dressing gown, Stella had gone on ahead and I joined her in the kitchen where the kettle was singing.

We chatted about all sorts of things. "Oh thanks for the note," she said.

"Thanks for the lingerie, I don't think I shall wear it for a few weeks."

"Oh no, it's meant for when you want to get Simon going, so anytime in the future after it's all healed up. I saw in this boutique weeks ago and decided I'd get it for you then. I just thought you needed some cheering up."

"I suppose I do. This thing is really getting to me and I don't know why."

"Sometimes we get like that when we close in on a big ambition, as if the longing for it was more important than achieving it."

"Oh no, I really do want it."

"Who are you trying to convince Cathy, me or yourself?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well I believe you, you don't need to convince me."

"Oh shades of Hamlet."

"What, get thee to a nunnery?"

"No, the lady doth protest to much."

"Or how about, To chop or not to chop, that is the question?"

"Ha bloody ha!" I said and stuck my tongue out at her.

"You started the Shakespeare stuff."

"Okay, I surrender." I held up my hands.

"Okay, point taken," she said and smirked.

"What was that about ambition?" I asked.

"Sometimes we stymie ourselves because the longing for something seems better than its attainment. How many times have you been longing for a holiday and found the reality was less than fantastic?"

"What you mean like, you're in Spain and your luggage is in Taiwan?"

"Or the promised hotel is still a building site, or the weather is awful or you get food poisoning."

"Can we talk about something else?"

"Back to the ambition thing, sometimes we seem to see ourselves as someone who wants, whatever it is, you want. Like some patients who are chronic pain patients, say they want rid of the pain but resist every attempt to help them."

"Why on earth would anyone do that?"

"Because they see themselves as Mrs Bloggs with the back pain or Mr Buggins with the bad hip. If you threaten to change that, it undermines their sense of themselves, even their identity."

"Is that what you think I'm doing?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well because I have a certain bit that's going to vanish in a day or so, that I can't adjust to the changed image?"

"I don't know, I hadn't thought that, why do you think it could be the reason you're having nightmares?"

"I don't know Stella, it hadn't occurred to me before. When I see myself in my mind's eye, I'm always a bit fuzzy anyway as if the image hasn't coalesced yet. So maybe I do have issues."

"Do you want me to cancel things?"

"No way, if I have issues, I'll work through them afterwards."

"Is that wise?"

"Stella, I have waited years for this to happen. It is just over a day away, nothing is going to stop me."

"Even if it isn't what you truly want?"

"What do you mean?"

"Maybe your unconscious is trying to tell you it doesn't want this to happen."

"I don't care what my unconscious wants, my conscious mind does want it, so I am going to have it done."

"Are you sure, it's too late for regret afterwards."

"I am well aware of that, and yes I am sure, as sure as I am of anything. I am a woman, I am female, all that is lacking is sorting out a bit of my body so I can live completely as I feel I should. Then I will be complete and content."

"Erm, Cathy, you shouldn't need an operation to feel complete or happy and according to my research, most post operative transsexuals go through a depression within a few months of the surgery."

"What! Why they should be happy?"

"I think it's probably a reaction to the anticlimax of reaching long term goals."

"Oh is that all?"

"Exactly," said Stella and smirked, I looked at her wondering what I had said again.