One Man's Story:
It is very important
to me that people reading this, especially those considering a surgical
procedure, know that what happened to me is NOT the norm. I don't want to scare
anyone... my experience was very unusual and unexpected and should never have
happened. Of course there are always risks associated with any surgical
procedure, but usually, especially where gender reassignment is concerned, the
benefits FAR outweigh the risks.
My story begins in
June of 2001 in Iowa. I had been on T for several years and decided to go ahead
and pursue having, what to me, was the most important first step in my
transition. I had always hated having, and couldn't wait to be rid of, anything
to do with female reproduction. I had also been having some problems associated
with endometriosis, so this was a step I definitely needed to take right away.
My Endocrinologist at the time referred me to a colleague of his at the
University of Iowa Hospital who was familiar with gender reassignment. I was
very nervous about meeting a new Physician and staff, and how they would react
to me. When I showed up for my appointment and checked in (in the reproductive
health clinic), the girl at the desk asked of I was there for reproductive
testing. When I told her that I was there to see Dr. Davis in gynecology, she
looked a bit puzzled so I told her that I was FTM and she got this huge smile on
her face and said "Oh, Mr. Hughes I am so sorry about the confusion!"
From that point on I
couldn't have asked for a more pleasant experience. The nurses were great, and
Dr. Davis was very laid back and easy to talk to. I went back for several visits
so that all the proper testing could be done, including regular and internal
ultrasound to look for evidence of Endometriosis, which there was plenty of. So
we scheduled a surgery date, and it was decided that given the extent of the
Endometriosis and presence of cysts, that they would do a complete radical
Hysterectomy, including the removal of the cervix, tubes, and all. I expressed
concern about how I would be received in the hospital and I was assured that I
would have a private room and that the staff on my floor would be alerted about
the special aspects of my case.
When I arrived the
morning of surgery and checked in, again, I was treated with the utmost respect
and warmth from the new people I was encountering. Then at 7:30 AM on the dot, I
was taken up to surgery for what was expected to be a very routine procedure.
This is where my story stops being routine at all. The surgery itself went well,
so they thought, but I wasn't waking up like I was supposed to. They finally
moved me down to my room where my friends was waiting, but I was having a very
hard time waking up.
At about 11:00 PM
things started going really bad. My blood pressure bottomed out, setting off the
alarms on the monitors, and a team came rushing in. They couldn't get my
pressure under control and started forcing fluids through my IV. It continued to
drop and then became so low they weren't able to get a reading at all. They
brought the crash cart in and went to work.
I have vague memories
of looking up at all the strange faces, I remember not feeling afraid, but
feeling like I was going to die... and the weird thing was, I was accepting of
this. They finally got me stabilized and the next morning I finally awoke.
That morning, a team
of Cardiologists came in and explained to me that I had suffered a heart attack
and that they suspected the reason was that I had become dehydrated during
surgery. They did blood test after blood test until the enzymes that signal
cardiac arrest went down . I started feeling a little better, but had abdominal
pain that was almost incomprehensible, and a feeling of having fluid sloshing
around in my abdomen. I reported this to the nurses, and they said not to worry,
that the pain was to be expected, but they didn't know what was causing the
sloshing feeling. I had also developed a rather high fever that they couldn't
get to break.
Each day that passed
the pain got a little easier to bear, but that feeling of having fluid in my
abdomen worsened. I continued to report this, and no one had any suggestions,
just that it was major surgery and that may be normal.
A week later I was
sent home. My first night home was very uncomfortable, and with my doctor’s
permission I went to dinner with a group of friends. Late that evening, after we
arrived home I walked into the kitchen where everyone was congregated, and as I
was standing by the bar, my friend looked at me all scared like and asked
"Mike... where is all that blood coming from?" and pointed at my feet.
I looked down and noticed it pooling around my feet. They rushed me to the
bathroom, helped me out of my shorts and when we pulled the dressing from my
wound, blood rushed out. My friend yelled for someone to call an ambulance and
got me settled on the sofa. By this time I was feeling a bit faint, and very
frightened. They had me hold a towel against my abdomen and kept talking to me
while we waited. The ambulance came and took me to the small hospital nearby,
and when they couldn't get the bleeding to stop and suggested their surgeon on
staff operate, I asked them to call the University an hour away.
My Doctor at the
University demanded that I be immediately transported to Iowa City. Upon
arriving back at the University, I was examined first in the Trauma Unit, and
began to show signs of cardiac trouble again, so I was rushed back into surgery.
They had to pump 3 liters of blood out of my abdominal cavity and give me a
blood transfusion. It seems that that sloshy feeling I had been experiencing was
a bleeder that had been missed. It bled just enough that miraculously I hadn't
already bled to death, and according to Dr. Davis, going to dinner that night
may have saved me.
The activity had
caused the blood to start to force its way out via my incision. Had that not
happened, it may have just continued to bleed and us have no idea until perhaps
it was too late. After the second surgery, they had to leave the incision open -
that was the worst part. Twice a day the wound, which was about 7" long and
deep enough to put most of an adult hand in, had to be irrigated and packed with
gauze. This was an excruciating ordeal. I spent another week and a half in the
hospital and then was sent home for my friends and a Home Health Nurse to
continue caring for the wound. It took a full month for the wound to finally
close completely.
During my two stays
at the University of Iowa Hospital, I was surrounded by wonderful, caring staff.
Not once was I treated badly, nor did anyone seem the least bit uncomfortable
caring for me. Even the very young assistants that came in to take my vital
signs were friendly and caring. I couldn't have asked for a better outcome even
though getting here was hell. Would I do it over again even if I knew this would
happen to me? Yes. It was a very scary time, and I was very ill, but I pulled
through thanks to wonderful Doctors and Nurses, and the support of my many
friends as well. Am I scared to have my future procedures done? Oh yeah! I am
nervous about it... but I wouldn't not do it. This is too important to me… it
is a necessary risk. I know I am repeating myself... but please don't let my
story scare you. This was a freak thing that happened to me.
I have always
believed that everything happens for a reason and I believe this was supposed to
happen to me because I came out of it a different person. It made me even more
appreciative of what I have in life.
I am a very lucky
man.
Mike