Becoming Myself: The True Story of Thomas Who Became Sara (21 page)

He then asked Kathy how she felt about it all, to which she replied that it was my life, but that she couldn’t understand why as a woman I would still be looking at other women. Dr Kelly explained that it is perfectly normal for women to look at other women, especially as women always compare themselves to other women — what they wear, their hair, their figures etc — and that it was entirely natural for me as a woman, even trapped inside a man’s body, to be making the same comparisons and trying to imagine what it would be like to look like those women.

He also tried to explain that my gender identity had nothing to do with my sexuality. I was delighted to let him say all this as I’d been trying to explain all this to her myself. She had been listening to all kinds of opinions from her friends and acquaintances in Limerick, who, though they knew nothing about my condition or situation, were telling her that I was just doing this for sex; that I was gay and that I wasn’t prepared to admit it. She also had to listen to other vulgar and disgusting remarks which can’t have been nice and which are unrepeatable here.

I got to see Donal O’Shea, the endocrinologist, in February and was referred on to Dr James Lucey at St Patrick’s
Hospital in Inchicore. I had to see Dr Lucey for a second psychiatric diagnosis before I would be allowed go onto hormone treatment and start the reassignment process. I met Dr Lucey’s colleague, a woman, initially, who was very warm and pleasant and, though the assessment was very difficult emotionally, she made it less stressful than it could otherwise have been.

The longer the assessment went on, the more emotional I became and cried quite a bit. The whole situation was overwhelming for me. The doctor was amazed at the transformation taking place in front of her eyes as once again my body language and voice changed, which is what usually happened once I didn’t have to hide my true gender from people. She was in no doubt as to the soundness of my diagnosis and so went in to speak to Dr Lucey. She was gone a while and I used the time trying to contemplate the various stages of the process still in front of me and whether I would have the courage to see it through, especially when I imagined the treatment I was likely to receive from my friends, my clients and from strangers.

Dr Lucey arrived in with the doctor who had assessed me to tell me that, based on the information I had given, he would have no problem confirming Dr Kelly’s diagnosis. Then he asked me a strange question: ‘Would you not think of staying as you are and not going ahead with having a reassignment surgery?’ I immediately responded by saying that I hadn’t come all this way not to complete my reassignment. He then asked me how I felt at the prospect of losing my genitals. Again my response was immediate. I told him I couldn’t wait to have the body I knew I should have had since I was a child and that nothing would be allowed to dissuade me from that. He seemed pleased. He then said, ‘I wish you
the very best, Sara, you have a very interesting journey ahead of you.’

The meeting with Dr Lucey and his colleague was extremely difficult and I was emotionally and mentally exhausted from it, but I also felt that I had achieved something monumental in demonstrating my determination to see all of this through. I was prepared to put myself through these gruelling evaluations to do it, even if it meant constantly retelling my history and having to recount the long years of abuse and of feeling like a freak. It was really hard, but it was so worth it to get to that stage of my journey towards being myself. Every single stage of this process was proving to be difficult and a test of my resolve. There were so many reasons I could have given for deciding not to go ahead, but to give up would have been to deny myself of my true
self
, and that was a fate worse than death.

In making their diagnoses, Dr Kelly and Dr Lucey had to consider the possibility of what are called
contra-indications
. These are other possible explanations for my persistent sense of being a woman in a man’s body. For example, they had to look at the possibility of a maladjusted adolescence, a failure to come to terms with my sexuality or over-exposure to female company and influences. Then there was the need to consider the possibility of fetish tendencies, such as cross-dressing and transvestism. In the case of Dr Lucey, he had to look at the possibility of psychiatric disorders that could lead me mistakenly to believe myself to be a female born into the wrong body. Once they had satisfied themselves that these had been safely eliminated then they were able to make their diagnosis of gender identity disorder.

It is extremely important to remember that a person presenting for a diagnosis of
GID
must have at least two years of
persistent discomfort living in the role of the opposite gender and demonstrate that the disorder is the only possible explanation. This was a no-brainer in my case as I have had this throughout my life.

On Thursday 20 June 2004 I returned to Dr Donal O’Shea, only this time I was coming away with my first ever prescription for hormones. Dr O’Shea advised me that I would become very emotional and experience mood swings as a result of taking the hormones. I told him that I was already very emotional in a female kind of way. It was good for a laugh.

I was started on Premarin (oestregen) and Aspirin, to stop my blood from clotting. I started on the lowest dosage of Premarin for a number of months in order to allow my body to get used to it. A few months later I was prescribed twice the dose, which I remained on for about a year. It was a surprise to find I’d reached normal female hormone levels over such a short time. I did notice, though, some time after I started the Premarin, that my palpitations returned for the first time in many years. This made me wonder about the connection between the palpitations I’d suffered during my adolescence and my monthly breakouts of female acne, and if this was a result of having higher-than-normal levels of female hormones back then.

Now, I’m at the second-last stage of my reassignment, before surgery, and have been put onto an anti-androgen known as Zoladex, to kill off any remaining testosterone in my body, which I take as an injection into my tummy, just below my navel. The needle is about two inches in length and I have opted to inject myself because it means avoiding long waits in my doctor’s surgery and it also helps to keep my costs down. Gender reassignment is hugely expensive and most of us can ill afford it. One of the major effects of
Zoladex is that it significantly reduces my libido, which, quite frankly, is a great blessing. This is extremely important to me as it shows that going through gender reassignment is not a sexual matter. Another benefit of Zoladex is that it softens the skin and facial features. These changes have been noticed by many people I know and has given me great confidence in how I look.

Of course, one of the biggest benefits is the fact that my breasts are now growing. Thirty-three years I’ve waited for this; thirty-three years before my body could feel in some way normal. And it is one of the most joyful things in the world to me and makes me long for the final stage of my transition even more; my genital realignment surgery. As I’m at the second-last stage of my gender reassignment, I have just one more step before I will be forever free of the term
GID
and everything related to it. I have seen the surgery being performed and what happens afterwards for those who have undergone the operation. It is hard to express the sheer joy and ecstasy that flows through me just at the thought that that will be me one day, hopefully in 2008.

Thinking about the final step in my transition, I have had to consider where to go to have my genital realignment surgery carried out. As things stand, I have three options, being referred to Charing Cross in London, to Leicester General or Thailand. Going to Thailand means going private, and though it is not as expensive as going to the
UK
, it is still quite expensive. Also, there are very serious risks in travelling so far away for such major surgery, especially if there were to be any post-surgical complications. There are no post-surgical supports here in Ireland for people who go to Thailand for their surgeries. I’ve seen first-hand what can happen when someone goes that far away, especially when they have
not thought it through. Going the to the
UK
is much slower and involves having to go through a whole lot more evaluation and re-evaluation, which can be very distressing and discouraging for those who have already gone through the evaluation process here in Ireland. However, I find it very reassuring that they are so meticulous about it, ensuring that people are certain about what they are doing. For me, there is absolutely no doubt, but I recognise that the process has to be thorough, despite the frustrations. Given my public role in raising awareness and wanting to encourage people with the condition to act responsibly in getting the best possible care, it has been important for me to set a good example throughout my own transition, which I hope will become a role model for others to follow.

One of the major steps in gender reassignment is to live every day in my female gender role. And as much as I may want it, it is extraordinarily scary. Going out in public, going to work every day and meeting my clients and explaining my situation to them; shopping; meeting my friends; meeting strangers; all that potential for stress, panic attacks and completely freaking out. There are plenty of reasons to give up and to revert to living as a male, but what a horrible thought; it’s enough to make me want to stay a woman!

One of the key pain barriers to cross in gender reassignment is removal of facial hair by laser treatment. It is so painful and not for the faint-hearted. I had my whole face done each time and the results have been worth all the pain and burning, not to mention looking like a Martian with green Aloe Vera gel spread over my face. I looked quite the sight stopping at traffic lights, with other drivers looking in at my green face. I just hummed away to myself, delighted that I had withstood yet another torture session.

Buying clothes was tricky and it was really great having Kathy come with me and to advise me on what did and didn’t look right on me. Most of my shopping was done in Evans and Marks & Spencer’s, as they sell to the larger-sized lady. They are also friendly towards people with
GID
. I was size 24–26 when I started out and was determined to get my weight down, which I’ve managed to do; so much so that I’m able to buy my clothes from high-street boutiques. I’ve come down to size 16–18 and am aiming towards size 16, which is ideal for my 6.75 feet in height.

A
nother huge milestone for those of us with gender identity disorder is telling our families and friends about it and having to cope with their reactions. It can be hard for them to understand that the disorder is a congenital condition and not a lifestyle choice or a fetish.

I first told my family about my condition in April 2003, but my disclosure was the culmination of more than a year of phone calls and a difficult family meeting about the abuse that had taken place when we were children. At this stage, after many years of having little or no contact with my parents, I had begun a series of phone conversations with them, trying to get my mother to acknowledge that she had been wrong to believe for so long that I was ‘retarded’. To me, these phone conversations were make-or-break, and I was delighted when they apologised. I really thought, or wanted to believe, that they had changed.

Christmas 2002 was to prove one of the most momentous events in our family’s troubled history. I received several phone calls from my brothers and sisters telling me that there had been some angry scenes in my parents’ home over the
Christmas and as a consequence a family meeting was being held in Co. Wexford, where they now lived. I was welcome to come down and express my feelings about what our parents had done to us.

I made it clear that I had already started the process of reconciliation with them and that I was making progress (as I thought) and that my reason for going to the meeting would be to confront the rest of my family over the way they, too, had treated me over the years. They agreed that I should be able to do that and encouraged me to attend. The meeting was held early in January and was attended by most of the family. Two of my siblings stayed away. I was determined to use this opportunity to try and get closure on the various issues I had with my brothers and sisters.

I sat on the sofa, between a brother and sister. My eldest brother opened the meeting, explaining recent events and the need for the family to confront our parents over their treatment of us. My mother tried to make out that were ganging up on them and that this was wrong, but her tone and body language betrayed her attempts to put us on a guilt-trip from the off. It didn’t work, so one by one we expressed how we felt about our treatment over the years. It truly was a momentous event and even I had my eyes opened by some of the honest revelations that came from my brothers and sisters. I was the second-last to speak and made it clear how I felt about their treatment of me. This was followed by an acknowledgement from every brother and sister present that their behaviour towards me had been wrong and inexcusable and that they would make sure never to repeat it again. I really thought I had finally received closure and reconciliation with my family, so much so that it influenced my next major decision, to disclose the situation with my gender conflict.

I travelled to Wexford a number of times after the family meeting. Each visit seemed to indicate that things had indeed improved between us and between my brothers and sisters. I spoke regularly to some of my sisters, albeit I was the one doing the calling, but the conversations were friendly and led to my going to visit some of them.

I phoned my mother and asked if I could come down to visit, as there was something I needed to tell her and Dad. It was arranged for me to travel down with Kathy on a Sunday in April 2003. I brought some photographs I’d had taken while we were on holiday in Salou, my first holiday with Kathy where photographs were taken of me as Sara-Jane. I was extremely nervous driving to Wexford that Sunday morning and it was a great comfort to have Kathy with me.