Saturday 25th July

I ache everywhere and I'm effectively chained to the bed by intravenous and drainage tubing. I haven't been able to see any of my new 'equipment' but apparently the surgery went well. I saw Mr Hamilton just before they put me under, he's been back to see me today but is heading back to the Nuffield in the morning.

The other surgeon, Mr Carline, is a local man and will visit me until I'm discharged. Heather and Jo came to see me today but I can't have been much fun. The pain meds are being reduced but I was mostly out of it this morning. Right now, at ten in the evening, it's the first time I can hold a pen. I also can't sleep having dozed much of the day. I'm promised something to help me, but I really don't want a sleeping pill if possible.

I don't have my tablet here, Heather promises she'll return it to me tomorrow. It's also too late to have a newspaper sent from the hospital shop. I should have arranged for a few paperbacks if access to technology was going to be a pain! So the only thing I can do is write up my diary.

My surgery wasn't on Thursday, that was just a round or two of tests and the enema. I was given the horrid orange unflavoured drink called Picolax and had to drink several pints over a few hours. That had the most awful result on my gut, I spent hours in the loo, meaning that I had to wear a maxi pad most of the day and night. It was late on Thursday when Mr Hamilton came to see me and declared that I was fit for surgery, at seven on Friday morning.

From the time yesterday morning I was asked to count down in the operating theatre, I have no recollection of the day, only the odd flash. My throat's still sore where they inserted a breathing tube so I'm going through alot of water.

The nurses are lovely, really good. I'm down as 'Beccy' but I'm still getting used to that name so I didn't respond immediately a few times. I'm getting better at it, but it's still a problem if they're waking me to check on me. One nurse actually wanted to know if I was hard of hearing, or maybe there was another problem between my ears because I didn't respond to her! I couldn't tell her the real reason so claimed I was away with the fairies, her reply seemed to accept that, although she queried the sense in allowing me the surgery!

Sunday 26th July

I'm back in the land of the internet and I'm connected to the hospital wifi. The official line that we're taking is I'm here having a plumbing problem sorted, girls' stuff. It's a bit corny but will put off most from asking too many questions.

I've disabled my normal social media accounts while I'm down here so there will be no updates from me. It also means I can't follow my friends' trials and tribulations but it's a small price to pay for security. I'm blessed in one way that should help my stealthy life; Tom was invisible. Tom wasn't a prefect, didn't win prizes and didn't play in the first fifteen. Tom wasn't known outside of school and was barely known in school.

Of course there are folk in Thurso who knew that I'd transitioned but the ones with nasty attitudes are either dead, under investigation or in prison. I know that sounds callous but it's true. There may be others out there who have yet to cross my path but every step is being taken to keep my circumstances out of the limelight.

Talking of limelight, do I accept the director's job for Guys and Dolls? If I do then I really should get hold of a script and start reading. Are there different productions available? How do I go about licensing it? I guess I have time to do some research now but the casting call is on the fifth of September so I don't have that much time.

I've asked Tanya to keep an eye on facebook and flag up anything that's nasty. Hilary's promised to arrange for anything serious to be removed but Tanya doesn't know that, she just to tell her boss, my Mum.

I now have a Beccy Adams email account and am using that to communicate with Heather. She saw me this morning for an hour but I've had an otherwise quiet day. I managed to get a copy of the local regional paper, the Western Morning News, but no hope of getting The Scotsman this far from home.

I was allowed to have a look down below using a handheld mirror. To be honest I couldn't see anything really, it's swollen and looks ugly. Mr Carline promised it would look better in a few days.

The drains were taken out this afternoon but it's still wrapped up down there. I have a catheter so I'm peeing into a bag, no idea when I can get out of bed. I managed a Skype chat with mum, I created an anonymous account that has no relevance to Tammy or Beccy, just some random letters and numbers. No photo or bio details either.

Tuesday 28th July

I was starting to recover my appetite this morning so I managed a banana. My gut started making some strange noises soon after. The packing came out an hour or so later and so did the catheter. I managed, carefully, to step out of bed and use the loo. Okay, a nurse had to hold my hand. My wee went all over the place! My bed was stripped and remade before I could get back, but that allowed me the time to have a shower, supported by the nurse.

What I wasn't expecting quite so soon were the dilators. I had two, a thin one and a wider one, and was shown how to use them; there was no time for embarrassment. Lots of lubrication was applied. Heather had warned me, of course, but it's still something else to see the dilator glide into you? It wasn't comfortable, there was pain, but it's something that has to be done.

The local shrink Dr Fleming came by to see me, and jokingly asked me if I wanted to change my mind? He'll report back to Julian Roberts that all is good, I guess that means I won't see Julian again. Heather also visited and then Suzie turned up. That was unexpected but it seems that Mum had a word with her and then called Jenny. She took an afternoon train so she could do most of a day's work and will head straight back afterwards. She took a few snaps on her phone of me in the chair, nothing indecent! She'll send these to Mum and Angela; I'm not convinced that's a good idea but everyone's been told not to pass the photos on.

I needed the loo so asked Suzie to help me rather than summon a nurse. I warned her that I might make a mess so she stood back after helping me get onto the throne. I managed to eat something for tea, the first meal since last Wednesday morning. It might only have been scrambled eggs and toast, but it tasted good. I should get a proper breakfast in the morning.

Suzie had left when I needed to dilate, and I don't think I would have done it while she was there. I'm only using the small one, we'll try the bigger one tomorrow.

Thursday 30th July

I'm feeling better this morning, not as weak as the past few days. My appetite is back and everything seems to be in full working order. Mr Carline is happy, very happy. He's saying I can go home soon. Heather worked out how to use Skype so I save her the journey and we chat for half an hour. Tanya has been told how to get hold of me so I manage a video chat with her as well.

She still doesn't tell me about her driving lessons, but I know she had her first one on Monday and is doing two hours every evening. Jeri passed her test and is now looking at cars with my Dad's help. Her trust fund doesn't mature for another month so all she can do is look.

Elsie's in the Panama canal. She finally manages to speak to me and says the treatment went well. She's recuperating well, albeit under the guidance of the on-board doctor.

I get hold of Lori, she's doing well but won't be running a marathon again, not that she ran one before. If she's stuck with the NHS route to reassignment surgery, any hope of GRS will be a long and winding road. For all I know, the military is picking up the tab for mine, or is it the security service? I would have not been offered surgery in under two years of living as a female, probably much longer, if I didn't have access to private treatment. In any case, no surgeon would touch Lori until they know she can survive the physical stress of a general anaesthetic and surgery.

Dad tells me he and Elsie have come to a compromise, while she's away we can keep Mary as our housekeeper. That puts the decision to hire someone new off until the autumn. He tells me that Mary is not like Julie! As we don't have a maid everyone has to help with cleaning duties, apparently Angela is not impressed.

Dad will ask Elsie if we can borrow Anna one or two days a week. Even with Elsie away she has duties in that house, there's the two gamekeepers, Thomas the butler and the other cook to look after. Elsie's son Michael is living mostly with Mark, his boyfriend. I'm surprised Anna didn't go with Elsie, but Helen will help and the ship's staff will handle cleaning etc.

I've started dilating three times a day, it's a bit more comfortable, or maybe just a bit less uncomfortable. Nurses have turned up once or twice while I've been in a compromising position but no gaggle of students have been round, fortunately.

There is a day room on this ward but I don't want to wander, the fewer people who have contact with me, the better. There's only one major fault, they can't make coffee. Secretly I suspect it's decaff, or a very cheap brand. The tea's better so that's what I'm drinking in the mornings.

I'm really not certain why I'm still here, but I suppose it was major surgery. Given how things happen around me, I'm really grateful that everything's gone to plan - so far.

Saturday 1st August

I'm back at the cottage after being discharged just after lunchtime. Jo immediately sent me to my room to do the necessary and rest. I managed a shower when I woke this morning but it's really humid so I grabbed another one before dinner.

Heather's really surprised that I'm not showing the same awkwardness when walking as she did, maybe she was right about my recovery being faster? Mum had another long chat with me, *that* chat. As if I'm going to bed the nearest passing boy? That's so not on the agenda right now.

In all seriousness, I'm still not ready for a relationship, it really would be an inconvenience and the risk to my security is just too great. Oh, I look at what I've just written and it's come out all wrong. I wouldn't turn down a close friendship but it would be an extra concern, I'm just not as practised as Heather.

I'm sat in the garden writing this up, we've had dinner and I'm relaxed. It's a lovely evening, there's barely a breeze and I can hear the local bird population as they settle for the night. Even the midges have gone. I'm in a summer frock that Heather bought me as a welcome back pressie, it screams woman. I'm back on the pill, it feels different now; I know I can't get pregnant but it still feels different.

Monday 3rd August

Heather's got me an appointment with her GP. She takes my BP and half an armful of blood before taking a look. She's impressed, but I don't know how many other neo-vaginas she's ever seen? There was no blood on my liner this morning so I guess it's healing well.

Heather had told me that she had to have her stitches removed but apparently mine are dissolvable. My post-operative checkups will be at Treliske Hospital in Truro, Mr Carline holds a surgery there once a week. To say Heather's jealous is definitely an understatement.

Sophie arrived back last night, just in time for dinner so she's diverted Heather's attention away from me, which is good. I got the impression Sophie's helping with her dilation now, judging by the giggling I heard - oh TMI!

I'm okay with my own, but that doesn't stop Dr Wilson, Rachel, from checking that I'm following the care plan. She tells me that my last bloods, three weeks ago, were fine and she had a thankyou from Dr Adi. Quite what Dr Adelaide Sutherland will say to the latest news I can't even hazard.

Jo went with me to the medical centre but I'm doing fine, better than fine. There's no way I can go jogging again, not for a few weeks, but my only other restriction is that I can't lift anything and have to be careful sitting and standing.

I've never been into baths, it was really difficult at school to get a bath unless you used up a study period. Showers were easy, at worst there was a ten minute wait. I can now see the benefits of a bath, two mornings I bathed after breakfasting and dilating. There's no oils or smelly stuff in the water yet, just a cup of salt, but it helps. I shower afterwards before dressing for the day.

I'd almost missed today's appointment as I fell asleep in the bath!

Jo was needed at her cottage today and Heather had an urgent call she couldn't put off. That meant I went to see the GP on my own, the first time I haven't had someone within a few feet of me since I arrived at Derriford Hospital nearly two weeks ago. That felt odd. Everything feels different and I like it.

Friday 7th August

Heather drove me to Treliske Hospital for my appointment with Mr Carline, but no-one's told me which name I'm using here. I give them 'Beccy Adams' and my medical history comes up on the receptionist's screen, at least the bits she's allowed to see. Naturally the clinic is running late and I'm the third appointment, out of three.

The seats aren't comfortable but I've borrowed Heather's inflatable cushion as she doesn't need it any more. I've been using it in the office as I work for a few hours each afternoon. The arrangement is that Heather gets the office in the morning and I get thrown out if she needs it in the afternoon.

Mr Carline was really pleased and took some photos to send to Mr Hamilton, I made him promise they were for professional reasons only and the nurse was a little concerned. His normal area is gynaecology and I'm simply down for a gyno checkup after 'repair' surgery, obviously he knows the real situation but says nothing much while the nurse is in the room and my feet are in stirrups. So, what this means, is that Beccy is a natural female and anything in my history that says otherwise is carefully airbrushed away.

We went shopping after the appointment, I found a bridesmaid dress suitable for a fairy tale and some really naughty lacy lingerie. The knickers were actually a thong and I know I can't wear a liner but by the wedding that won't be needed, hopefully. I've never been able to wear a thong before so I hope it's the right decision.

Before Sophie went back to London they decided to fix the date, Friday the twentieth. I really didn't think you could get a date that soon but Heather managed it somehow, another cancellation? The invites went out on Monday.

We're making progress with Martin Gore, but now we've found a birth certificate in the name of Martin Ivanovich Goronov, issued two days after Natalia's certificate in the same Bulgarian town. That's a surprise, I assumed he was Russian but I hadn't read the document correctly, rule #1 - don't make assumptions! Fortunately Suzie had already spotted this and had fixed the case record, in my defence I can't read Cyrillic.

This still leaves a question, or two, who the hell was he?