#post-op | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

transgenderteensurvivalguide · 1 year

Text

Lee says:

TransBucket has been an invaluable resource for me throughout my medical transition.

I would spend hours on the site looking at photos that I’d already seen because it helped me prepare for my own medical transition and it helped me feel like what I wanted was a possibility.

Seeing the ‘before and after’ photos from other trans people who had gotten top surgery and phalloplasty gave me so much hope at a time when I was really struggling with dysphoria and depression.

I’m someone who has benefited in ways that I can’t even fully express from the post-op community’s generosity. I don’t know if I would have the life that I have now without it.

After I had my top surgery and hysterectomy, I chose to upload my photos to TransBucket to give back to the community (in a small way) and help others as I had been helped.

This is largely why I hesitated in sharing photos of vulnerable moments depicting surgical healing, although I ultimately did upload several photos showing the early weeks and months of recovery.

I didn’t upload any photos after I had fully healed and gotten tattoos to hide my surgery scars because I was worried about my privacy, which is something I still struggle with, and I ultimately decided to not upload photos of my genitals after phalloplasty for the same reason.

While I always knew TransBucket was publicly accessible, the mention of the site in the news made me reconsider whether I wanted to continue having my images hosted there.

The site being down for the past couple of months has given me some pause, but today, 5+ years after getting top surgery and making my first TransBucket submission, I have gone back and deleted some (but not all) of my post-top surgery and post-hysterectomy images.

I’m still considering what the best way is for me to protect myself from transphobic cisgender people who might use my images in ways that are incompatible with my views and how I feel about my body, and also protect myself from some of the hate coming from within the community as many of the most hurtful comments about about post-op bodies like mine are often made by pre-op and non-op trans people.

I became a mod on this blog when I had just turned 16 and I had top surgery at 18. I shared things online that I probably wouldn’t have shared if I had been if I had become a mod at my current age in my early 20’s, but the internet is forever and I can’t take it all back, even if my feelings on my online privacy have changed.

I would like to encourage our followers to take a moment and reevaluate their internet privacy as well, and think about what things they’re comfortable with sharing going forward.

I’m not saying that you should delete your images from TransBucket specifically— I might even end up reuploading mine there at some point, with some redactions for privacy. But you should think about what photos you are okay with sharing online a lot longer and harder than I did.

All that said, I’d like to circle back to my original point— that TransBucket has been an incredible resource for me (and many others) and it continues to be one of the first things that I recommend to anyone who is considering gender-affirming surgery (and is not a minor in the jurisdiction in which they reside as the site hosts images of genitals and it is against the terms of service for minors to join).

I would like to thank the admin of @transbucket for all the work they’ve done, and encourage our followers to assist them if they are able to:

#Lee says #transbucket #trans #transgender #top surgery #phalloplasty #hysterectomy #hysto #phallo #medical transitioning #post-op

155 notes · View notes

saramays-blog · 1 month

Text

Tracking my transition progress, I will take monthly pictures in exact same pose with the same jeans for comparison. Search tag#JeansHRT

#JeansHRT #Transgender #Trans women #MTF #Male To Female #Post-Op #Transition progress #LGBTQ #LGBTQ+#Sara-HRT-changes

13 notes · View notes

trans4hire · 4 months

Text

Any post-op AMAB trans folk willing to answer some questions a pre-op transfem has about surgery?

Been thinking more and more about it recently but I have some concerns about things you can't really find most places.

Also if anybody has ever gotten Phallus Preserving Vaginoplasty I'd love to talk to you as well because I'm very interested in hearing out that worked out

#lgbt #trans4hire #mtf #trans #transfem #me #amab #queer #surgery #hrt #transition #vaginoplasty #post-op

6 notes · View notes

faofinn · 1 year

Text

Day 17 - "Stay Awake For Me"

Part 1 | Part 2

@mediwhumpmay

They'd told Harrison the surgery went well, but he hadn't had the energy to really be bothered by it. He felt drained beyond belief, but they'd brushed it off as him losing some blood during surgery - apparently he'd lost quite a bit, according to the constant fluids and bloods running.

He struggled to keep up with Fao's conversation, grumpy and tired. He snapped more than once, telling him where to stick it, and what he was going to do when he could manage to stand.

Even Steve said there was something wrong, but there'd been an emergency elsewhere and he'd had to go back for the day. He made Harrison promise to be okay until he got back, almost begged the nurses to check on him again, but he still had to leave. Harrison didn't pick up the phone when he called, his messages entirely unintelligible. He texted Fao instead, apologising to the other man, but desperate to keep up to date with his son.

Fao was worried about Harrison too. He texted Steve as much as he could, but there wasn’t much he could do. He snooped on his obs as much as possible, and they definitely were worse than they had been. The nursing staff didn’t seem interested in doing anything about it, and the ward round had been about five seconds that morning. The registrar looked stressed beyond relief, and the consultant that was running it was the one Fao disliked.

Once Fao had had his obs done, and they moved over to Hars, he sat up a bit more.

“Hey, he’s been really off all day. Can you get someone in to check him over? He’s not right.”

They rolled their eyes. "He's just had major surgery. He's going to need time to recover."

“I know, but even so.”

"The consultant has already been round for today, Harrison had time to say what he felt like this morning. He was just tired, that's all."

“The consultant barely even looked at him!” Fao protested. “His notes are probably one sentence. Please, I know he’s not right.”

Harrison groaned, frowning at the nurse by him. Fao's protests were loud and annoying, disturbing what little sleep he'd managed to get.

The nurse shot Fao a look. “See? He’s just tired.”

“I’m a doctor, I know when someone isn’t right, and he’s not right.”

“No, you’re a patient. Try and get some rest and stop worrying about him.”

Fao’s face darkened. “There’s something wrong. Why won’t you check or get someone to check? What are his obs?”

"That's private, personal information."

Harrison pulled the blanket further up, over his head. "Stop bein' so loud. Jus' tell him what he wants to know."

“Please, I know he’s not right.” Fao pleaded.

"I know you're worried, it's understandable when you're so close. We'll keep an eye on him, do some more obs, how does that sound?"

“He needs a review.”

"I need a fucking break." Harrison piped up. "A long one that I don't come back from."

“Hars, shush.” Fao grumbled. “Get some sleep.”

"I'm gonna do it. Just be done."

The nurse frowned, and Fao sighed. “He doesn’t mean it, I’ll keep an eye on him.”

"He can't be saying these things without consequence."

“Yeah, put it in your notes. Nothing will happen, it never does.”

"Don't be like that, Faolan. You've had a chip on your shoulder all day."

“Excuse me?”

"Just because you've not had the news you wanted from the consultant, doesn't mean you can interrupt everyone else's and argue the toss."

“This has nothing to do with my own issues with the consultant.”

"Could have fooled me."

“Don’t be rude.”

"I'm not the one kicking off with everyone."

“I’ve not kicked off. Please don’t have a go at me.”

"Then mind your own business. You've got yourself to get better."

“I’m telling you there’s something not right.” He grumbled, but picked up his book, clear that this conversation was done.

Happy he'd finished being nosey, the observations were quickly completed and the nurse headed off to the next patient, hoping they weren't like Fao. Harrison's observations hadn't been too great, but they'd not been since his operation, which was normal.

Fao was glad they’d gone. He’d been trying to raise concerns, and yet it had been made personal against him. They’d left the obs machine in the room, as they often did, and Fao could see the tablet they used to add the obs to the system sitting with it. He’d not been able to get Hars’ obs off of the nurse, but he could get them from the system. He reached for his crutches, knowing he wasn’t supposed to be using them without supervision, but he needed his hands. He forced himself to his feet with a groan, and managed to get across the room to steal the tablet. He shoved it in his hoodie, and made it back to his chair without any drama.

He quickly logged in, glad his account still worked for now. He flicked through the ward, quickly finding Harrison’s, and his heart sank. His NEWS was high enough, and the actual values weren’t great either. He knew he’d been justified in his concerns, but nobody was listening to him.

Harrison struggled to get comfortable, his head pounding. He coughed, trying to clear his throat, but it just made it worse, all too dry and uncomfortable. He was freezing, too, and it seemed no amount of blankets warmed him up.

Fao's arguing only served to make his head worse, and the nurse had just annoyed him beyond belief.

Harrison definitely didn’t sound well. The fidgeting, the cough, the way he curled under the blankets had Fao suspicious. He watched him all day, watched as he ignored his dinner and didn’t even acknowledge Fao when he spoke to him. Fao knew full well that they should’ve repeated his obs, but they hadn’t, he’d not seen them in ages. It was getting late now, day shift would be leaving soon, and Fao’s worry only grew as Harrison got quieter and quieter. \

He’d gotten back on his bed and was considering a shower to settle down for the night when he noticed the light catch on something under Harrison’s bed. It looked like a puddle, or some water, but he’d not touched his jug to knock it over, so it couldn’t be that. Maybe a drain or something was leaking, his fluids had come undone or something. But there was something that unsettled Fao about it, though he couldn’t see well in the hazy evening light.

He swung his legs over the bed and forced himself to stand again, groaning as he took his weight. He crossed the room, the worry building.

“Hars?” He asked softly, eyes skimming over the IV pump. It all looked fine, it wasn’t fussing like there was a problem. Not that, then. That’s when he spotted what was on the floor. It wasn’t water, or IV fluids, or even a leaking drain or catheter. It was blood.

“Harrison? Can you hear me?” He asked, shaking his shoulder. That was when he pulled back the covers, and found the sheets absolutely soaked, crimson stark against the white hospital sheets. His vac dressing had leaked, probably soaked and fucked the seal. Fuck. Dropping his crutch with a clatter, he put his weight purely through his good leg, he reached across to the wall, hitting the emergency bell instinctively. He scrabbled to find something to stop the bleeding with. The bedsheets were no use, soaking through so quickly. He swore to himself, hands covered in blood, and eventually managed to grab some of the personal care supplies from Harrison’s bedside table. They’d do, they’d stop the bleeding enough.

He pushed away his own fear, the memories flooding back of the day he’d lost Alex. Harrison was okay, he was alive, he was going to be fine. They were in a hospital, they could do something about this.

“Come on Harrison, don’t do this to me. Stay awake for me, I’ve got you.” He muttered to his friend. Why weren’t they coming? The alarm was loud enough, ringing in his ears. They should be here by now.

The pain of Fao pressing against the wound made him dizzy, but somehow broke through the haze. His voice was cracked, throat beyond dry. "Wolfie?"

“I’m here, I’m here. You’re bleeding a bit, we’re gonna sort you out.” Fao reassured him.

His eyes were glassy, not focusing on the man in front of him. "I'm cold."

That would be the pints of blood all over the floor, without a doubt. “I’m know, I know. We’ll get you warm in a bit, yeah?”

"Please." His voice wavered and broke. He'd been good. He didn't deserve this.

"What's going on in here? The emergency bell is for us, you guys have your buzzers." The nurse complained as she walked in.

“Fucking hell, took you long enough.” He snapped. “He’s bleeding, you need to call the Orthos in now, he’ll need more fluids in, more blood. The closure on his wound has failed, I think, I can’t see because he’s bleeding.”

She at least had the decency to listen, sticking her head back into the corridor. "We need help in here! Bring the crash cart, we need an OR!"

Harrison flinched away from the noise, his hands pushing against Fao's. He couldn't do this again, he couldn't go through all this. He just wanted to sleep.

“It’s okay, it’s alright.” Fao soothed him, keeping his hands firm. “I know it hurts, I know.”

"Please?"

“Just breathe. You’re okay.” He reassured, and turned to the nurse. “Can you get some obs? He was due a repeat set hours ago.”

"He had them done." She rolled her eyes. "You shouldn't be treating."

“He didn’t, because I’ve been in here with him all day.” He snapped. “And I’ll step back when someone can take over from me, but I don’t see anyone, do you?”

"Arguing isn't going to help anyone." One of the consultants appeared, quickly followed by nurses and HCAs. "What's happened? Can someone get obs? I need two lines in him, I want him on O2, and someone get onto theatres, he needs one yesterday."

“What did I say?” Fao muttered, but didn’t move, still holding pressure over the wound. He was well aware the bleeding was internal, that he couldn’t do much about it, but he had to try. He looked up at the consultant, gripping the bedrails tightly to keep himself upright.

“He’s been bad all day, too quiet and withdrawn, even for postop. I noticed something on the floor by the bed, came over and saw the blood. He’s lost the seal on the vac, it’s the incision. I think it’s internal, and the wound closure has just gone.”

"You're not supposed to be treating." He shook his head. "Where the fuck has this gone so wrong? Harrison, open your eyes. Come on, look at me."

He whined at the nip to his shoulder, trying to pull himself away. A scowl graced his face, his eyes struggling to stay open.

“Yeah, nobody else was. I’m not going to just stand here and watch him bleed, am I?” He shot back. “Come on Tomcat, that’s it. Stay awake for me.”

"I'm not criticising you." He said pointedly. "Can someone take over from Major here? He needs to be resting."

“He’s not been right all day, I knew something was wrong. Nobody believed me.”

"That's a sorry state. We’ll get this sorted, get him back to health, and it'll get sorted." He muttered. "Has anyone got obs yet?!"

“Getting them now.” One of the nurses said quickly, as someone else moved alongside Fao to take over from him, nudging his hands away.

“It’s okay, I’ve got it.” He said.

"Harrison? Harrison, come on. Don't do this." The doctor rubbed Harrison's sternum. "Harrison, don’t do this. Can someone get the bvm? Someone start airways, please."

Fuck. Fao couldn’t do this, he couldn’t lose Harrison. Not after all this. He felt sick to his stomach, his chest was agony, but he couldn’t stop.

They eventually moved him out of the way, but he continued to grip the bedrail, his knuckles white as he watched them try to stabilise Hars. The room was a hive of activity, his hands were still covered in blood, and everything was going wrong. This was too much like Alex.

There was a brief pause, the cons turning to Fao. "Do you want to say bye to him? Just before he goes to theatre?"

Fao nodded. Gripping the rail, Fao moved up to Harrison’s head, leaning over to press a kiss to his forehead. “Don’t you dare fucking die on me, alright?” He murmured.

"We'll do our best." He promised Fao, resting a hand on his arm. "We'll keep you updated all the way."

“Thanks. Not like I’m going anywhere.” He said with a hoarse laugh. He let go of the bed, stepping back to let them go, but the pain overwhelmed him and his legs gave out under him. He realised he’d stepped through his bad leg, something he still had weeks to wait until he was allowed to do.

The consultant grabbed him roughly, stopping him from completely hitting the floor. "Careful, yeah? Can someone get him back to bed? Get him checked over too, please."

“Shit.” He muttered. “Sorry, sorry. Just grab my crutch? I’m alright.”

"You know what he would say to you. Look after yourself."

“Yeah, I’m going back to bed. But I, uh, need to wash up first.” He said softly.

"One of the HCAs will give you s hand, okay?"

He nodded. “Look after him for me.”

"I promise."

One of the HCAs helped Fao grab his crutches, and he leaned heavily on them as he watched them wheel Harrison out. Everything ached, burned, and he could hardly breathe with it. She was nice, though, not one of the shitty agency staff he’d been dealing with all day, and got him into the bathroom so he could shower and change and head to bed.

The room was too quiet when he was done, the gaping space opposite him where Harrison’s bed had been just reminding him of what had happened. They’d cleaned the floor whilst he’d been in the shower, but the empty bedspace made his stomach twist in a way he didn’t like.

12 notes · View notes

woodsfae · 10 months

Text

Adjusting to my longed-for hysterectomy has continued to be surprising and rewarding. The vastly reduced endometriosis symptoms are almost the least of it. I know how to adjust to pain. The impact of being sterile and no longer menstruating has a much stronger effect on me. My ease with my own body and inhabiting it is much smoother. My body dysmorphia and dysphoria is no longer cyclically-devastating. It's clear to me now that I had a cycle of dread and suicidal ideation tied to my menstrual cycle. Now that I no longer bleed or have most menstrual symptoms, I no longer have a week or two month to wind up up up into intolerable devastation and then need to spend another week or so winding down from my distress.

I am happier. I cry more easily. I recognize the specifics of what I'm feeling and process the emotions much more readily. I am still sleeping more than usual, and much more than usual when I have exercised that day. I still feel funny twinges and pulls in my abdomen. I still have pelvic floor sensitivity. My PT exercises for those lingering surgical effects are enough, and recovering from surgery does not distress me.

Being profoundly weaker than before surgery is an interesting exercise in feeling vulnerable. I rarely felt physically vulnerable pre-op. I have always been very strong, and almost limitless. I had the strength to do anything and the stamina to do it as much as I'd wish. Now I regularly have the disconcerting experience of running out of energy. Like a car out of gas, instead of a slow, winding-down of ability with rising clumsiness as a warning that tomorrow I will be slow and sore. The effect is more like running out of energy when I'm sick with a fever than the process of tiredness I am more used to.

But it doesn't distress me. I was distressed most of the time, before. Endo flares would leave me furious, feeling sick in my soul, betrayed, and hopeless. And in agony, of course. I was in pain most of the time.

I dream of being pregnant so much more lately than I ever have before. But instead of being trapped in a syrupy nightmare of unwilling gestation, now I realize in my sleep that this is impossible. I'm sterile. and the dream changes in a blink of an eye to something totally innocuous.

I have fewer nightmares now, and I remember my dreams more. Usually I don't even remember that I have dreamed. Now I often wake up with linger flashes of awareness that I was dreaming, and a little knowledge of the context that fades quickly. I know that I dream almost every night, instead of only knowing that I had a nightmare once every few months.

So many interesting, unforeseen effects. I wish I had been able to have a hysterectomy when I was fourteen, and started having menstruation so painful I curled into the fetal position and was unable to straighten for days on end. What a different life I would have had! Free, for nearly all my adolesence. From the first time I learned what menstrution was, I was horrified and sickened by the idea of being subjected to it. And it was truly horrible. Free now, and free to reclaim as much of the childhood I wanted, now. But grieving the years of being medically suffocated and physically tortured by my incurable and previously untreated condition.

Sometimes I feel like I was so disgusted by being cursed with a uterus and breasts that my body turned on me and made me suffer in turn. For many years, that thought was one of my regular torments. Now I can turn that thought away. Another change.

#8 months post-op #hysterectomy #endometriosis #genderqueer #queer #chronic illness #chronic pain #dysmenorrhea #recovery #woodsfae #menstruation #menstrual cycle #post-op

11 notes · View notes