Tag: phalloplasty

~ happy 3rd birthday, Spot! ~

A dear friend of mine happens to have a birthday today. And three years ago, I was lying in my hospital bed in San Francisco, groggy and incoherent from post-surgery painkillers, but grabbing for my phone and texting her nevertheless, knowing what I must do.

Me: HAPPY BDAY I GOT YOU A DONG [photo of my crotch] 8D

Her: ….dude. Did you just send me your first unsolicited dick pic.

Me: heart haaaands

——–

I’m just gonna keep saying “dickaversary” to myself and giggling today because, c’mon, it’s just a fun word to say.

Happy third dickaversary, Spot! It took three years, but I’m SO glad you’re finally housebroken.

( whispers slowly, ~ ~ dickaversary ~ ~ )

so, question: i know you have a couple of tattoos and also that you’ve had phallo. as someone who’s planning to have Both of those things happen to my body eventually, i was wondering if you had any advice for places that tattoos maybe should not go? like obviously my left forearm isn’t getting any ink, but do you know of any other spots that might be adversely affected? sorry if this isn’t totally something you know, i was just curious if you did c:

gerbilfluff:

Aha, yes! There actually is another spot that you’d want to hold off from tattooing, and that’s the upper leg.

The surgeons need to take a section of skin a bit smaller than a sheet of looseleaf paper from one of your upper legs (I got to choose which side I wanted it from), to cover the forearm after they use the *forearm* skin to build the new phallus. This second scar isn’t as distinct as on the forearm– more like a permanent sunburned area, especially now, years after– but it would definitely be wise to steer clear of tattooing there.

Also, they’ll need to put a suprapubic catheter in at some point during the surgery. [EDIT WAIT disregard this part, I misspoke! This was only because of the strictures that happened after. If you have a urethroplasty with your phalloplasty, the suprapubic catheter won’t be an issue. Pardon my brain fart.] I put up some photos over on @chinchilla-meat (NSFW warning, of course) of what that area looks like on me now– the catheter scar right above my dong is so large only because they needed to insert the catheter several times during the stricture complications I had afterwards. Generally, that won’t be so huge, but there will still be at least a dot of scar tissue that will twist any ink a bit, if you have a crotch tattoo. Again, this is only if you have stricture complications. My bad, y’all.

Oh, and one more thing about phalloplasty and tattoos, very important: there’s a small raised bump a bit smaller than a US dime surgery leaves a forearm with afterwards, if you use your forearm as your donor site. That’s a nerve cluster. DO NOT try getting that bump tattooed, or even around it, unless you want to feel pain from those nerves *permanently.* Several nurses warned me about this, and my sympathies are with anyone who didn’t know before getting it inked after their phallo.

Funny you should ask about phalloplasty and tattoos now, though! I’m planning to have the words “Tis but a flesh wound” tattooed around the wrist edge of my arm scar sometime this year, because I can’t NOT take an opportunity like that, haha. X3

Reblogging here, now with the edited version, ‘cause I had a brain fart about catheters when I initially replied. Oops.

Could you write up a post explaining the route to bottom surgery without T and top surgery? Did you have to get letters from a therapist, what did the surgeon say, etc. Thank you!

gerbilfluff:

Oh my gosh, Anon, I’m so sorry for not seeing this until just now! A few notes kinda got buried in my inbox, so I’m not sure when this is from. Thanks for waiting however long it’s been! D8

I’m gonna link you to a post I have over on my phalloplasty blog about just this very thing: https://chinchilla-meat.tumblr.com/post/146374195022/my-first-year-of-phalloplasty-a-handy-timeline with a couple caveats– yes, I DID need a special doctor’s note specifically addressing how I wasn’t planning to take T or have top surgery, but that was as simple as my primary care doctor writing “patient is refusing HRT due to concerns over related mental health issues, and is opting to undergo phalloplasty first to get the most expensive procedure out of the way.” Nobody checked with me after as a follow-up to be all OH, NO PLANS FOR TOP SURGERY? 10 POINTS FROM GRYFFINDOR about it. Though I should point out the letter was more to have on my side when it came to getting insurance to accept my case; my surgeon, Dr. Crane, had no problems with my particular surgery requests, even at the initial consultation.

One good thing I’ve been hearing since my own phallo is how many phalloplasty surgeons are becoming more lenient when it comes to requiring body parts be removed first. Even the doctor who once turned me down when I refused to get a hysterectomy is now accepting patients who do the same, I’ve been told!

Reposting over here in case it helps anyone out!

It’s a bird! It’s a plane! No, it’s SuperGenderQueer!

A little after two years since I started this blog, I visited a nudist colony one weekend. Caused a bit of confusion among the folks there, as could perhaps be expected, but a friend snapped a photo while I was wearing a rainbow flag as a cape (as you do), and I thought, there it is. No catheter bag, body the way I finally want it– this is my victory pose.

Under the cut, and minimally censored just for safety’s sake, but here I am, past my own personal finish line. It’s so awesome here, y’all. Thank you for helping me along the way to getting here, and I hope you can join me soon, whatever your paths may be.

(and apology to any mobile users who don’t get a choice in seeing my pasty self splayed across their screen, haha)

My superpower is making everybody who sees me a little more queer. And I love it.

gerbilfluff:

I’m puzzling over a wee bit of a dilemma, y’all.

See, I have a photo of myself from Saturday I want to share *everywhere,* I’m THAT proud of it. It’s not the photo above. It’s WAY better. But I’m not sure that I can. It is, as the kids say nowadays, too pure.

In the pic I’m talking about, I’m in a perfect superhero pose: hands on hips, head thrust back, huge smile, in the exact body I want, with that rainbow flag behind me as a cape.

It’s victory and joy incarnate. And for once– this ONE TIME– I’d prefer that folks not be fapping to it. But I know the Internet doesn’t work that way.

Once I’d post it, it’s out of my hands forever, and that means it could show up anywhere. Porn sites I’d never see a penny from. Chan boards. Oh, wow, the memes people could make from this pic. “Lass Lad to the Rescue.” “Supertr—y’s Power Is Turning You Gay.” I KNOW the Internet can think of worse. I don’t want to be some alt/-whatever forum’s shared pic of the day. Not with *this* one.

But it’s so perfect, part of me is howling! You should totally at least share it on the phalloplasty blog! It’d show folks who are still struggling that you can MAKE it, that you can win in the end!

It’s true, I’ve shared dang near every inch of my body over there before. Just not… this. Not this kind of vulnerability.

Maybe people have to PM me, off anon, for me to send it? Maybe if *I* macro something onto it first? Ugh. I just don’t know. I feel bad for keeping this particular sparkle under a basket, but. But. BUT.

Anyone got any thoughts? I’d welcome ‘em.

Anyone?

Bueller…?

By request: Spot being stretchy/floppy! I swear I didn’t forget– this was just a busy month.

Note: in the last one, you’ll notice the pubic hair has a very distinct cutoff line. I’d just shaved what was there the night before, so the difference is a lot starker than the gradual curliness it usually has when I let it grow.

EDIT: why are they not animated. I made the gifs animated.

somebody who’s not a technological dinosaur, please tell me what I’m doing wrong

Is that it?

Hey all. I want to step in and mention one last rocky patch of ground that might come up once all the surgery and recouperation time is done, *specifically* if you’ve had a bunch of complications pop up along the way like I did. You should know before going in that this is a thing that may happen. I’ve taken to calling it the After Everything’s Okay Again Blues.

I got *horribly* depressed, the day after the final urethroplasty was a success. It didn’t help that, in a lot of cases, you won’t get sent home practicing how to hold your bladder muscles– they kinda toss you out of the nest and expect you to learn how to do so again (read as: buy diapers for a few weeks after). So I was *still* wetting myself, weeks after everything was “fixed.”

But beyond that, keep in mind, I’d had something go wrong, one thing after another, on and on, for almost *two years* after the initial phalloplasty. I couldn’t shake a sense of dread creeping over my mind; I was merely waiting for the Next Wrong Thing to happen.

What do you do when this happens? You gather friends to you, or at least those folks who’ll offer an ear without judging. And you slog through those days, until the fog starts to lift, and you start feeling hints of joy every time you pee standing up with nothing catastrophic happening. You learn to hope that the future will be okay again, even if it’s a small, wincing, skittery thing at first, like a fawn still learning to trust human touch.

Gosh. I’m standing looking back, seven surgeries since the start. I’ve been asked so, so many times, by naysayers and folks on my side alike, if I think it’s all been worth it.

Yes, I say. But there’s a pause before I say it now. It’s no longer the courageous, naive YES! that I shot out without thinking when I first signed the paperwork at Dr. Crane’s office. Now I know what all can go wrong, through no fault of his or mine whatsoever.

I no longer laud phalloplasty as a silver bullet. It’s not the flashy solves-everything punch that fells the titan of our own gender battle. Now, I see it more as an extended mythical Greek trial one has to endure to make it home to Feeling Right In Your Body Again– one made up of long, droning, dull chapters like the Trial of A Week Not Moving In A Bed, or the Trial of Wrapping the Withered Arm And Leg Over A Fortnight, the Trial of Carrying One’s Fluids In A Bag, the Trial of A Million Nights Wondering If This Is the Last Complication Or Not, and so on.

It’s not for the faint of heart, and I don’t mean you’re at all a lesser person for acknowledging you’re not willing to risk some seriously scary odds. You *must* go in being ready to lose so, so much more than you expected, and if you can’t do that, then I can’t in good conscience recommend it to you.

But in the end, almost two years after, and (fingers always crossed!) capital-d Done with it all, I still maintain it has *absolutely* been worth the journey to me. I mean. I feel *whole.* At peace. At calm in my own skin. I’d never thought this was a feeling I’d be able to feel. And yet, here I am.

I don’t have much more to say past this. I’ll still be around to answer questions, sure, but I wish all you followers the best on your journeys, wherever they may take you. I hope I’ve helped make the road ahead a little less scary and unknown for those who want to follow the path I took.

Stay sparkly, everyone, yeah? For Spot and me both!