Last year I had srs in Montreal. I shared the hospital room with a trans-woman who was also having srs. She was visited for most of her stay by her wife. With no time to waste, we were given the task of walking around the nurses' station in our slippers and hospital gowns, relying upon the mobile drip stand for support. I was tired and nauseous, looked dishevelled and was free of make-up.
After the second or third marathon around the nurses' station, I again rested back in my hospital bed. I was curtained off from my neighbour, who happened to be in discussion with her wife. My room mate admitted that she was loath to tell me this, but calling to me from behind the curtain she explained what they were in discussion about. Apparently, her wife was curious about the type of surgery I was having at the hospital, was it a breast augmentation or some other cosmetic surgery, for example. It didn't enter her head that I was also a trans-woman and having srs, even though 95% of the current patients were all trans and having some sort of gender reassignment procedure. I just sat back, raised my eyebrows, felt a little astonished, but pleasantly reassured..
