Surgery Day

5:30 a.m.

“Right now, Lauren, Carey and I are in our way to Montefiore Hospital. I’m writing this in the backseat of the car, feeling a little carsick and ready. By this time tomorrow things will be different. I hope that I can be different but stay the same. I hope that things work out for me.

"Right now, everyone is quiet. We made jokes at first but I think the reality of the morning is finally settling in. No one should be up at this hour. Right now, I’m feeling thankful for my friends and all the support I have received. I wonder if this is what it’s like for other guys who are about to have this done. Are they swaddled in love too? I hope they are.”

7:32 a.m.

“After being registered about an hour ago, I have finally been called for surgery prep. I am by myself. I just undressed, taking out my gauges, binder, and generally the things that make me feel secure. I’m nervous and ready and excited. The sounds of the hospital suck. Hospitals suck. I super duper have to pee.”

8:04 a.m.

“They just put a warm blanket on my lap. I’m feeling sleepy and hungry to the point of not feeling hungry anymore. As a person who is borderline, saying goodbye is hard for me. I become attached to things that I want to keep around only because they feel familiar.



"I’ve spent so many years it seems disassociating with my chest and now I feel as if I want to do whatever I can to preserve its memory. I want to memorize every detail of it because I fear that it will no longer be a part of me — that it's abandoning me. When I first began puberty and started developing, change was unsettling. Now I find myself not only completely aware of what’s happening, but also the curator of my own development. Maybe it’s good to have this control, maybe it’s not.



"I wonder when I will be seen."