Tuesday, February 7, 2006

It’s been a few days since I left the hospital. My new body feels awkward, still a big change from what I’ve lived in for twenty-seven years even after all the medications and time. Agatha says I’ll get used to it. I haven’t had any regrets so far, but I was drugged for much of last week, so I haven’t really had time to form any regrets.

Do you know how much having your uterus removed hurts? Damn. But what it was replaced by is worth the pain, if you know what I mean. I don’t want to share any gory details here, but let me just say that being a man is great so far. I feel almost normal.

The doctors say I’ll never be able to have any kids of my own, but I always knew that. Whether I had the body of a man or woman, I’d never be able to have kids. One would be awkward, and the other is physically impossible.

I called Mom today. She actually answered the phone. I’m glad she’s finally understanding what I’m going through. She asked a lot of questions about what it felt like, and whether I’m happy now, and what will happen now. But I was glad to answer all of them. Today’s conversation was the first real, deep conversation I’ve had with her in years. And I really, really liked it.

No one I went to school with knows yet. They’re all probably expecting to see the old me, Hannah Jerson, the bizarre girl-boy thing. But I can’t wait to see the looks on their faces when I walk into the room. They’ll say, “Who are you?” I’ll say, “Hannah Jerson. Or rather, I used to be.” They’ll say, “You’re that creepy girl?” And I’ll grin an chuckle and say, “I am clearly a man.”

The looks on their faces will be priceless, I can see it now.

Looking forward to my future,
Hank Jerson