facebook twitter email | link
February 2022
Home country



Breast Reduction


I had planned to write this post after I completed my surgery, but I didn’t. Simple as that! I will try to make this palatable for at least most of my readers although I will forewarn you that I have a tendency at times to provide too much unnecessary information to get my point across.

This story begins when I first woke up from the anesthesia for my GRS in my hospital bed in my assigned suite which, besides my bed had a couch,  a coffee table and a dining table and chairs so that a family member could stay with a patient overnight during the recovery period. I also had a small fridge and microwave oven so that I wouldn’t need to subsist only on hospital food, which compared to hospital food in the US, would be considered gourmet by American standards. GRS, for those who don’t know, is an acronym for a variety of descriptions of this type of surgery, my own favorite choice being Gender Re-affirmation Surgery. I looked down south to see bandages with a large tube emerging which I had been told before hand would allow me to relieve myself of excess fluid stored in my bladder. More simply put, it was there so that I could pee into a bag which I could hide under my gown for walks outside my room and even to visit Le Bon Pain (The Good Bread in French) in the main lobby, which is part of a chain of restaurants all over town that bakes their own wonderful confections to die for.

testimonial banner 1 mobile
testimonial banner 1 mobile

I had been warned about the possible risk of a post-op complication where the urethra could remained blocked after the catheter is removed. Fortunately for me, that was not the case. In fact, on the first two occasions after my catheter had been removed on Day 3 or4, twice I didn’t make it to my toilet in time to prevent soaking my entire lower body, not to mention flooding the bathroom floor.  I felt a little embarrassed but realized that this was likely to be a common occurrence with newly post-op trans ladies like myself. It was actually hilarious, if you ask me.

On post-op Day 5, I was released to return to my hotel where I was allowed to stow my belongings in a storage closet by the front desk so I wouldn’t need to pay for a room while I was away. I had been allowed to do the same when I took a 3-day side trip to visit  the Angkor Wat Temple Complex near Siem Reap, Cambodia before my surgery.  For my post op self care, I was given instructions to douche myself with a Betadine solution twice daily and was scheduled for a followup visit to the PAI Clinic two days later.  I had taken a number of selfies with my cellphone in the hospital before and after after my initial unveiling and a few days later when the swelling had subsided. Everything was still swollen from the surgery so there was really not much to see, nor did I care to look until later when I had my first post-op followup with Dr. B after I had returned to my hotel which became my home until I returned home to the U.S. two weeks later.

As it was when I first visited the Preecha Aesthetic Institute for my pre-op consultation with Dr. Burin, on the morning of the second day following my release, I was picked up by the courtesy driver from the clinic and taken the kilometer and a half to the PAI  , to which I was easily able to walk unaided a few days later.  Before I could sit in the waiting room I was escorted to an examination room where I was instructed to undress from the waist down and put on a gown.  Dr. Burin came in a few moments later after the assistant had helped me up into stirrups for the first time in my entire life, save for during the surgery itself.  I had already been presented with a cute little zipper bag  containing two dilators in two diameters made of wax, a pack of condoms which I could use to sheath them if I needed, two bottles of Betadine with which I was to douche twice daily in solution, a rubber applicator with bulb and a tube of K-Y jelly, euphemistically known as a personal lubricant.

The first thing Dr B. wanted to know was my vaginal depth as did I, so he inserted gently the smaller diameter dilator as far as it would go, made a mark and then measured the dilator with a ruler after he had withdrawn it, as it really goes without saying.  My depth was a full six inches with the scrotal skin graft alone without having to graft a portion of my sigmoid colon which would have added another $2500 to the cost of surgery but which I fortunately did not require.  I was as pleased as I was relieved that I had at least an average depth for a natal female adult when aroused. Of course, I don’t have a cervix into which a penis could crash during intercourse nor do I have the ability to lengthen my vagina during arousal. Anyway, who cares? It works!

Next Dr. B demonstrated douching my new body cavity with the Betadine solution which I was to administer twice daily in the shower after dilation.  At the same time he would point out so that I could see in a mirror the labia majora and minora, urethra opening and my new clitoris, complete with hood. Before coming to Bangkok I had made a thorough study at home before hand and I was well familiar with my plumbing beyond that of many natal women.  I forgot to ask him for how long I should continue twice daily dilation or about resuming my hormone therapy.  Looking back I now realize that those questions were best asked of my own Primary Care Physician once I returned home.  I knew I must continue  taking Estriadol for life but unfortunately, I had presumed that I could stop taking the T-blockers as I no longer had the primary production facility for Testosterone and I didn’t have ovaries or a uterus for the production of estrogen.  I had been warned by a patient I met who had undergone her GRS a year earlier that she had experienced an increase of T during the months following surgery.