Living Your Dreams.

In tribute to my friends

Dear Nicky & Rebecca

Belated Happy Valentines day

& Congratulations on your wonderful news.

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Who knows what our futures may hold? My dear friends Nicky & Rebecca's heart warming story of two kindred spirits reaching out to each other, from one country to another, is a dream like romance between two true friends. I am so thrilled for them. I hope their blossoming relationship proves to be everlasting & magical. This was such joyous news.
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Poignantly in sharp contrast to my friends exciting future, the British reality television star Jade Goody who I mentioned in an earlier post who is tragically suffering from terminal cancer, is getting married this weekend. Her fiance has received special permission to break his police curfew to attend the honey moon evening. She has sold the story of the wedding to the media to raise funds for her family, for the time when she is gone. She had previously appeared to have lived for her dream of celebrity in the media. Now she has bravely used the media to promote awareness of cervical cancer among young women & also to help her dying wish to come true. I hope her wedding day is the happiest day of her life. My thoughts & prayers are with her & her family. Our dreams if we get the chance to live them are not always quite as we imagine they may be but they can still be very spiritually rewarding.
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On Monday I took over the running of a permanent Art Exhibition at the tourist attraction I have been working at as a volunteer for many years. On Tuesday my first duty found myself running around to arrange the transfer of £4000 worth of paintings from the Exhibition, to the artist who had his own solo exhibition coming up this weekend at the other end of the country in Liverpool. It was great fun to be involved in helping a fellow artist & quite an experience for me to be responsible for the delivery of such excellent & expensive paintings. I have never used the British Postal system to deliver such an expensive parcel before & was very relieved to find it all arrived safely. I had always dreamed of running an art gallery & although this was a voluntary unpaid position it was a good start to my week.
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My day working at the hospital was truly like living a dream. I enjoyed myself so much on Wednesday. After being away from the workplace for far too long this was a huge landmark on my journey. I had always felt my vocation was towards a career in the caring professions & not in warship design. If you believe in a parallel universe this was it. I had crossed a divide into a magical dream scape. A land where Bob had never been or ever dared dreamed of. This was the sweetest little taste of what one day may be part of my regular working life. Wednesday was a day packed full of new experiences, a day so incredibly beautiful for its ordinariness.
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I had a really nice time working with the team in children's out patients. It was just the gentle start I needed. I worked through all the post & letter distribution , did some photo copying & even sharpened some colouring pencils. Perhaps they may seem like simple things, for a simple mind but I loved the whole experience. I was accepted & treated as the person I had always been. This did so much for my soul, my well being. The nurses the whole team could not have been, more friendly.
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As the person I had previously been perceived to be I never fitted in or felt comfortable. To experience my first day working in the hospital in the children’s outpatients evoked many feelings & memories. I have very little experience with children, in fact my only real experience was from my childhood. I could never have a family of my own. I would have loved to have children but that was just not to be. In all honesty I would probably have been an over protective Mum & possibly smothered my children with love. I used to beat myself up a lot for denying my parents the opportunity to be Grandparents. I also decided in my teens during puberty I could never ever face the very real prospect of losing my loved ones, my wife & children if I ever needed to transition. My heart goes out to my friends who are faced with this awful situation. It felt a sad existence to realise I could never have a loving relationship, a family because I was some how different, at an age which should have been so fulfilling. As a child I had to visit the old children’s hospital quite regularly. It carried many traumatic memories of the medical problems I had with my deformity down below & kidney infections. To this day I get nervous just driving by the site where it once stood. In my other existence as Bob I had learned as an adult it was safer to distance myself from all contact with children. This avoided all emotional pain but also the very real possibility with the world the way it sadly is now, as I was perceived as a single male, that I may be unfairly considered a potential pedophile, a threat. That was then.
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Here in this parallel world I was the real me. The patients care & experience while in the hospital is of paramount importance. I thought of how frightened the young children may be coming to the outpatients today. How concerned their devoted families must be. I watched the families, the children, the anxious Mums, often accompanied by their grandparents, with slightly tearful eyes. I had so much respect & admiration for the dedicated nursing staff & doctors. I was only helping out with admin but one day who knows what dream I may be living.
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Always being referred to as Debbie with the correct gender nouns was music to my ears. One of the leading nurses was also called Debbie which occasionally caused some amusing confusion. I eventually run out of work to do & was invited to look after the nursery. Help the children play if the parents needed any help. Being asked to put out drawings which they/we could colour in was so surreal, for me an artist who had been struggling with painters block. Everything was so wonderfully different in this alternative universe. I really enjoyed the experience.
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The reality of my work & life experiences, as well as the devotion I feel towards caring for my elderly parents is a challenge. I was feeling pulled in all directions & was very concerned I might be a burden to the hospital volunteer team. I wanted to provide useful help. The reality of being so lucky to still have my beloved elderly parent is something I cherish. In the time we have left together, every moment I can care for them, as they have always done for me, is so precious. It is a big adjustment for my beloved Mum & Dad & for me. The day was great. The issues of my responsibilities as a carer & the challenge of coming up with a work schedule that suits my parents, my employer all be it voluntary & me was/is rather tricky. I felt really awkward & guilty at trying tentatively to try to go back to work. We are so close & at times perhaps too reliant & needy of each other, to a point that to others may seem unhealthy. I just love them with all my heart & am devoted to them, as they are to me. My thoughts are with two kind friends who have recently sadly lost their beloved Mums this week.
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Wednesday was a very special day for me. The recent news that Jo is feeling brighter & the lovely news about my friends Nicky & Rebecca have got my weekend off to a great start. My Dads football team are winning 3-0 & for the first time in quite a while, in with a chance of winning, so he is going to be happy too. Miracles can happen. Your dreams can come true. Take care my friends & may your weekend bring everything you wish for.
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Love
Debbie

The smell of burning martyr

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The smell of

burning martyr! ....................................................................................My opportunity for a new working life

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This is a positive post, honest! As one door for now remains closed, another one has opened. I am returning to the work place after 4 years, in a completely new role, with a completely new life.

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I owe my family & my friends a big apology. Everything I have thought, seen, written & tasted recently has been tainted by the stench of burning martyr. No one likes self pity. No one likes a moaner. Unfortunately being born with a dysphoric voice perhaps gives me an unwanted advantage & a very good chance of an Olympic Gold for whinging, if one ever existed!

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My parents, my doctors & I had been delighted with my progress last year. I had set myself a goal of doing some voluntary work & try to target a position of paid employment this year. I had attended my first mock job interview late last year & decided I would really like to try & find some voluntary work at my local hospital. A completely new challenge, for a completely new life.

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Realising I am something of an emotional sponge & can at times let my compassion get the better of me, a job directly involved in the front line of the caring professions is something I need to be cautious about at this stage in my recovery. Long before my referral refusal I had applied for an administration position & finally been invited for an interview at the end of last month. It was a wonderful positive experience & went really well. It felt like a great step forward for me.

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I was just myself, my T stuff was of no relevance & inconsequential at the interview just as it should be. It was never mentioned. To just be my true self felt so incredibly empowering & so good. My nerves soon went & I was able to present myself to the best of my abilities. The interview went really well. It presented the ideal opportunity for some one like me who was trying to get back to the workplace to rebuild their confidence, gain new skills & help others. They had lots of different jobs available. It seemed a situation which could be mutually advantageous.

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I had to go through some security checks to gain clearance & also had to attend an interview with occupational health. This part of the enrolment process was much more complicated. How much of my history should I disclose? Mental illness carries a great stigma with some employers but even though this was a hospital they have to be so careful their staff are suitable. When I had lost my job through ill health I had chosen foolishly not to let the occupational health people know about the underlying reason behind my ill health. As I did not wish to let anyone down especially when dealing with those who themselves are vulnerable & in need of the correct care & respect I decided to be honest. My health had been improving & remained stable through out last year. Being honest I felt I had to explain my recent health issues which were relevant, my panic attacks & sleepless nights as a result of my referral refusal for my GRS. At this point the doctor excused himself to consult a colleague. For 15 minutes he disappeared & so I feared had a really good opportunity to improve my well being & perhaps be able to give just a little back to an organisation I have so much respect & gratitude for. Thankfully he & his colleagues decided my reaction was understandable & agreed I could be taken on. I was asked my full inoculation history & given some blood tests as I may come into direct contact with patients should I be asked to carry out surveys & other minor duties.

Last Thursday I was asked to attend a volunteer induction day at the Hospital. I should have been raring to go & thrilled to have the opportunity but with my health as it has been recently times had changed. I had finally agreed with my consultant to send off my appeal on Wednesday which for reasons I had to trust him with, failed to contain my fundamental reason for my distress. Now this is where the acrid smell of burning martyr may begin to smoke. For a transsexual to have completed all that was asked of her by her doctors & honestly genuinely believed to be only a few months away from her surgery, to alleviate a life long deformity, to suddenly be told that surgery will not now happen for years as opposed to months, causes an escalation of their gender dysphoria that possibly only another person suffering the same condition could possibly fully comprehend. I say this with sincere apologies & gratitude to those kind compassionate friends who are non trans here. It is only surgery, it is not the news, the terrible news that that some people receive that their condition is terminal. I need to get over it & regain my perspective but for me my dysphoria had once more become almost unlivable. It dominates my every thoughts, I feel sickened by my body, I felt like a freak. At the same time I knew how lucky I was & what a wonderful opportunity to return to the workplace this would be.
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The secretary of my consultant has become like a friend to me. I had recently become a very needy nuisance of a patient & possibly tainted our friendship with burning martyr, too. I had thanked her profusely & bought her a small box of chocolates as a gift for putting up with me while my dysphoria & depression had raged so badly. She replied with great sincerity, “Thank you for the chocolates that was very kind of you. I know it is not quite the way you thought things were going to go, but please look on the positive side, there are many more people out there worse of than you. You have your health and parents who care for you a lot, and the team here are here to support you. Take care”. Wise words with which I totally agree accept that (here comes that awful burning martyr smell again) I do not have my health as it was. Not at all. I may look the same. I certainly know how lucky I am but my body has never felt more in conflict with my brain, my soul. So on Thursday morning this week I faced a huge dilemma, a cross roads.

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As my friend Alan had kindly suggested, Somehow I had to get through all of this, whether it's despite them (the commissioning panel who shattered my dreams) or to spite them! I was emotionally right on the edge. One kind word, one thought & I could have burst into tears. It was so early I could not take our doggy out for his walk, for the first time since my parents so kindly let me have him. His soulful eyes followed my every move. I had to stay strong. Dam it, I was going to grit my teeth & do this. Scraping the ice off my car windows just like the rest of the poor commuters travelling to work I rejoined the rat race.
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As I drove to work for the first time in four years I flitted between freakiness’, Marta Dom & pride & determination. As I approached the hospital entrance that overriding magical feeling that comes from being true to my heart washed over me. I joined a quite diverse group of some sixty new volunteer colleagues in the lecture theatre. We were from all different backgrounds, ages, genders, races, and religions. We were all there representing a random cross section of humanity all there to help others, freely giving of our time & in the process perhaps improve our own well being as well. It was a great thrill & privilege to be given a chance to work alongside such hard working dedicated staff, as a volunteer. I have to be 110% sure I can concentrate fully on the care & needs of the patients before I can consider trying to take on any significant role in their wellfare. Until then it will have to be be admin work & may be patient surveys. What ever duty I do I will always try to do it a with a smile & kindness. A smile costs nothing but can mean so much. One day, who knows, my dream to work in the caring profession may one day become true.

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We were made to feel welcome & valued. We had lectures on health & safety, data protection, infection control, chaplaincy & other’s perspective. The last two subjects were enthralling. To help us focus on what really matters most in a hospital, the patients care & respect, we watched a DVD about others perspective. The actress Virginia McKenna played the role of a patient, an elderly Grandma who was suffering from dementia. She was being treated very disrespectfully by actresses demonstrating how not to treat a patient. She was treated like a non person with no dignity or respect. Yet here was a fellow equal, a human being, a young woman, trapped in a frail old body with a mind/memory that was failing her. There was hardly a dry eye in the house. The Reverend who gave the chaplaincy talk struck a raw nerve when he remarked no one likes the smell of burning martyr. He did so in a totally honest humorous self effacing way but boy/girl was he speaking the truth.

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My Mum, Dad & I were so proud & relieved after the recent worry I had caused them. I had faced another challenge. I do not want to let anyone down. I have come so far from the shy person with such low self esteem I used to be in my other life. I want to be able to do my best & just get on with my life.

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Next Wednesday I start work in the hospitals out patients department, a new beginning, a new & humble life, hopefully one day soon to be free from the blur of dysphoria & self pity.

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I hope you all have a very Happy Valentines day

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(((((((((((positive thoughts)))))))))))

Peace & love

Debbie

Innocent victims!

3 weeks of mental meltdown. "The big fat cats at my primary care trust health authority seem to have been preying on innocent victims, with absolutely no compassion. Cold hearted ghostly Killers who stalk their victims, minds, by day & by night! Perhaps I am just the conduit to allow them to come through from the darkside? There is a link between me & most of the victims, which I need to find the power within me, to close down & move forward".

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All this craziness came about over a decision which had shattered my dream that I possibly may have had my surgery later this year only to find months are very likely to now become years. I had completely lost all perspective. Some poor loves get told by their doctors they do not have that long to live. I am so lucky. I know that but sometimes my dysphoria leads to very obsessive thoughts which is the main reason for me needing this surgery. It just takes over your life & life is too short & too precious to allow that to happen. What do I have to worry about, it is only a broken dream? I am not proud of what follows as I descend into the depths of depression, a living hell.
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My world my hopes & dreams appeared shattered on

Friday 23rd Jan 2009:-
Since receiving my bad news about my funding for GRS at Brighton with Mr Thomas on the 23rd January I have faced the most difficult time of my new life. The clock is now ticking as I only have until the 19th February to ask my consultant to mount an appeal. I have been surviving but only just. I feel my family & I are the innocent victims of a one size fits all agreement/system that simply cannot deal with or accept the exceptional case of someone with 12 years specialist gender care. We are not the only victims.
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My new life, my recovery to better health, my future attempts to get back to the work place, have been in meltdown. My creativity seems more far away than ever. My brushes have sadly not touched paint this year. I keep having panic attacks & sleepless nights caused by all the worry. I wake up crying most mornings & when I found out my Mum was also being badly effected in a similar way, it ripped at my heart even more. We had been through so much together. Our life was just showing signs of returning to normal, what ever that is. My head feels like its being pushed under water by all my worries, I am drowning & on my last breath of air, then some how my family & friends & my new found spirit, drag me back up to the surface. I am trying so hard to survive, to not think like a victim. My heart is willing but........................
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I have no control over these faceless peoples decision but I can chose not to let them effect how I feel. I have to hold onto that thought but it is a perilous grip. I have been at my weakest & found out just how strong I am now. Not very but.............!
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I have been blessed by so much love & support from my dear parents & friends some of whom have only recently kindly made contact with me. A dear lady called Caroline who had a very bad experience with a consultation some 40 years ago posted a reply on my blog. Her story was heart breaking but quite familiar for how Charring Cross used to treat their patients. If I had gone through the experience she must have gone through quite simply I would have been dead before I was twenty. The cruel arrogant phobic bullies who used to play games with gender dysphoric patients lives were monsters. ChX would have pushed me through hoops that would have quickly become a noose. I hope she can some how heal enough to be true to her heart. Bless you my friend. There but for the grace of God go I. How many innocent victims have been lost thanks to the cruel system that is supposedly there to help them with their health care, for all kinds of conditions? How do these people, chose who to save?
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Wednesday 4th February 2009:-
I had a meeting with my consultant psychiatrist to discus my appeal on Wednesday afternoon. My dear Mum actually came along to support me for the first time at such a meeting to do with my gender issues. She had actually gone from praying I never transitioned & begging me not to transition while they were alive to praying I could receive this surgery because she knew how right it was for me. What more proof do these people need?
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I had received a rather sinister phone call on the Wednesday morning from a person I had naively believed to be neutral, a complaints manager. She was actually working purely for the SCPCT & attempted to pressurise me into blaming my consultant & not the Trust over the lack of communicating an agreement which has thrown my care plan into utter turmoil & wrecked my health. I will never bite the hand that has fed me. My consultant has been so supportive. It was quickly apparent he to had received a similar threatening call to tow the company line. He had never had to deal with a rejection & make an appeal before, which speaks volumes about my case. I broke down in tears & had a massive panic attack. I had to beg him to speak to my counsellor as I became too distressed to speak. He kindly quickly arranged to write a very supportive letter detailing the effects to my health but nothing that would cause friction with his bosses. How sad that he too, such a kind compassionate doctor, had also become an innocent victim . He was very frustrated at the way the NHS is now run by managers & financial people. Gone were the days when consultants ruled the medical world. He too is powerless to do the job he joined the NHS for, which was to help & care for his patients. A wall of faceless managers now blocked his goodwill. My Mum was an Angel beside me. My appeal seems doomed to failure & very likely to end up in a legal battle, possibly even a judicial review. I am not sure I have the stomach for such a long drawn out process but I have come too far to give up now.I am beginning to see this distressing cruel verdict is perhaps not so much about transphobia & possibly more about some on the commissioning panel being concerned about funding going out of the NHS to a private hospital.
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Wednesday evening we were all shattered & my Mum our pet corgi & I all fell asleep on our settee. My dear Mum woke up in tears as all her old fears resurfaced. She was worried about a court case & bad publicity, that thugs would attack us & find out where we lived. How I wish I had not put her through such an ordeal. It was heartbreaking & the last thing I wanted to happen, was to see my dear parents under such pressure. Thankfully she settled down & some how managed to sleep. She too had become another innocent victim.
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This journey for me is about the human spirit. We are not alone with the challenges we face. I have really struggled with depression since the awful news I received but I am so lucky. I am at my most vulnerable mental state since the most wonderful year of my life. Julia has been keeping my spirits up. Another kind friend Jessica had warned me not to let this appeal business eat me up & set me back to where I had started. I should have listened to her wise advice. When you are ill yourself & too embroiled in turmoil your clarity is completely lost.
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Thursday 5th February 2009:-
I nearly died last Thursday in a car crash but for the brilliant quick reactions of the driver coming the other way onto a mini roundabout. I dare say had Bob been driving he would have dragged me out of the car & killed me himself. All he saw was me an hysterical woman driver. I ow this guy my life. It was totally my fault. In a dysphoric haze fuelled by the onset of a depression which had been in remission for over a year, I had driven away from the hospital where I had just gone to pick up my appeal letter to review. By a cruel twist of fate a report of my previous routine appointment prior to my receiving the bad news had arrived in the post the same day. It was so positive. I had finally seemed to have my life back on track & now my emotions were all over the place again. My care plan, my future lay in ruins. The staff, as always were so compassionate, so kind to me. The comforted me as I broke down with yet another panic attack. I stayed their in bits tears rolling down my cheeks until I thought my emotions had subsided. Alas I was wrong. I tried to drive home, & got no more than 500 yards from the hospital exit. I was not concentrating on the present. I was stuck between my past & what seemed a bleak future. A large black 4 x 4 jeep was turning right & was going correctly round the roundabout. I never saw it, I was blinded by dysphoria & worry. That was no excuse. I had come very very close to leaving this world, possibly taking the family in the car I nearly crashed into with me. Yet more Innocent victims. I would never have forgiven myself. The rampaging dysphoria has only just started to ease this weekend. How I wish I could just turn off that wailing voice for ever!
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Friday 6th February 2009:-
Out of great sadness something remarkable happened. On Friday Mum & Dad kindly offered to part fund my surgery. OMG! They could not bare to see their new daughter suffer such mental cruelty & were desperately offering money they simply could ill afford; such was their now totally unconditional love. You just cannot equate money with love. Their love & support is beyond any material wealth & absolutely priceless. What more could a daughter ask for? I have to get well. I have to fight off my demons once more; I cannot let my parents down or give them any more cause to worry.
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Saturday 7th February 2009:-
Even my darling little doggy has been traumatised by the recent atmosphere. Animals have feelings too. I strongly believe they have a soul. They certainly have more soul than some of the humans that have the unenviable job of playing God with peoples futures. My little fury friend seemed to feel the negative energy. He too was another victim. At last this weekend I can feel a calmness returning, hopefully not the calm before the storm. I have learned what is most important to me, my family & my friends!I am determined not to let those soulless financial people steal my dreams, but is so hard so very very hard just now.
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Monday 9th February 2009:-
Realisation day. The theraputic value of blogging & the wise words of a far away friend give me the wake up call I desperately needed. I have become completely obsessed & I need to stop this becoming the blog & the life of a mad woman. Thanks to my friend Alan who kindly posted a reply to this mad rambling cry in the dark, I can perhaps see light again.

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Friends make such a difference. I am inspired by the incredible spirit of so many of my special friends. A spirit typified by the ability of dear Jo to scrape herself up off the floor weighed down by real heartbreaking emotion, to fight for her future, supported by magical friends. Every town should have a Doris world! A place full of true friends! So many of you, who kindly pop by from time to time from all over the world, with all kinds of different lives, inspire me to keep going.
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So many of you took the trouble to reach out & touch my heart. Kind remarks like yours make such a difference. I try in my own humble way to do the same but recently my mind has been selfishly blinkered by dysphoria. I feel I have been neglecting my family, my friends & my plans for my future. Everything is shrouded in dysphoria & negativity. That is exactly why I need my surgery, to finally get well & just be able to get on with my life.
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I thank you all, with all my heart. May your problems be small & all your hopes & dreams come true.
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Love
Debbie

Reality TV

My heart goes out to Reality TV celebrity Jade Goody. I am not a great fan of reality Tv shows but her plight which is being played out in public as she battles terminal cancer is very moving.
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She had a dream she craved for. When chance gave her that opportunity to live the life she had longed for, her world seemed perfect. Being a celebrity had become an obsession. She was not the brightest button in the tin. She achieved her wished for dream & her life style seemed perfect to her. She was still the same person inside but in a different place. She was loved by the press & the public. Her star burned bright but as that star began to wane & her limited talents became exposed, the very people who had built her up set her up to fail. Through her own innocence, life experiences & insecurities, some perhaps cruelly described as short sited ignorance she never saw the fall coming. There is no excuse for prejudice but in my humble opinion the race row that caused her dreams to be shattered was possibly due more to simple class envy than a deep routed racist outlook. How many of us really know the truth about her or even cared. We if we were interested at all could only go by media coverage, the very same media coverage that made & broke her. After the race row it appeared open season on her in the media, as crude cruel remarks rained down on her. The dream career/life she had built on paper thin foundations evaporated over night. She had probably felt like her world had ended. She appeared to have only lived for a life of celebrity on TV. Her previous employers/puppet masters had used & abused her. Finally condemning her to what she thought was oblivion.
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As fate cruelly gave her the hardest lesson of all when she was struck down with cancer, her fickle friend celebrity returned, with all the trimmings. I cannot imagine what the poor love has been through. Suddenly all those disgusting jokes at her expense left a very nasty taste. She had been a very easy target. Now she will always be remembered, her life as a celebrity assured but not for the reasons she had dreamed for. Her every anguish is recorded by the hungry media pack for society to dissect, as if they actually care. She is understandably scared like we all would be when faced with our impending mortality. For one so young it is a tragedy. She has no choice but to face up to the news her cancer is now terminal. She is a simple human being like any one of us, who now has to become courageous. A Mum with children, who feels her best way to provide for her loved ones is to allow the camera’s to intrude on the most private & personal aspects of her remaining days on earth. I was very moved by recent television footage but at the same time I felt very uncomfortable. The frustration & grief at their plight etched upon their faces was both haunting & humbling. The scenes as her mother tried to comfort her as her hair fell out, the tears they must have shared & the poignancy of a door being closed on the prying eyes of the camera. No one deserves this fate.
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In many ways perhaps you only find out how strong you are when you are at your weakest. It would be insensitive & totally wrong of me to compare my condition. My use of the word "tragic" in the title of my last blog post now seems totally inappropriate & full of self pity. There is no real comparison with her situation but with recent events in my life I cannot help but think of the saying “Be careful what you wish for!”
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My dear friend who has MS has had to wait until yesterday morning to find out if her breast cancer has been caught in time. Her news today was wonderful. They have caught her in time before the cancer spread. She was out walking her doggy again this morning along the freezing river bank. She really is a star, a truly inspirational friend ,with her determination in such adversity & an amazing positive outlook on life. My thoughts & prayers are with any person & family trying to come to terms with cancer.

Love
Debbie