Dedicated to the acceptance, medical treatment, & legal protection of individuals in the process of correcting the misalignment of their anatomical sex, & supporting their transition into society.
This column is just one part of an extraordinary series.
Part 1: In the beginning … We are the creatures of our families. For us their influence and reaction to our condition is life long, ours and theirs. Sometimes this is burdensome, sometimes very positive. …
Part 2: The Best Made Plans … I had now reached seventeen and concluded that my condition was unique. There could be no one else like me, so resolution was impossible. My certainty that I was a woman was total …
Part 3: Now For Change … I had achieved some of my ambitions in technology and academia, had married Joyce, and acquired two step children. But professionally, I was asking myself, “What next?” …
Part 4: The River Runs By … I said that I was a church organist and a hymn came to mind, “All things bright and beautiful.” They all said “Ahhhh.” I said no, I mean the second verse “The purple headed mountain, the river running by! …
Daventry, Northamptonshire, UK. In 1986 we lived near the Thames valley town of Maidenhead in Berkshire, on a flight path from Heathrow Airport. Peace, the need for a bigger music studio and more office space indicated a move so each weekend we drove on a radial path from London looking at places and property.
By the new year nothing had appeared and we were about to give up when the details of an early 17th century farm house and barn with outbuildings in the midlands appeared. It looked perfect. Only my mother, who had reduced snobbery to a science said with some disapproval, “The Midlands, that’s the Black Country!” [1] We still went to look.
In the farmhouse kitchen was a basket with kittens, outside were horses and Labrador dogs. In ten minutes, I was already having the barn restored for music with the organ across the end and a room on the first floor that could be fitted out as an office. By late 1987 it had all happened.
The down side was that I found it much more difficult to cope with the constraints upon the woman inside in spite of work, our new house and music. The vicar had only taken hours to establish that an organist had arrived!
I determined I needed another piano for the music studio and learned that the mother of a colleague had a giant 1905 concert grand for disposal. We went to look and agreed to buy it.
On the return journey I was struggling as never before.
When we came off the motorway we were 30 minutes from home. The next I knew, we had veered across the carriageway into another vehicle. Joyce said my eyes were fixed wide open but I was totally unconscious of anything. Scans and EEGs that followed showed I was a typical epileptic. I began experiencing these ‘absences’ several times daily but medication soon controlled the seizures.
My wise neurologist felt there must be a reason for this late onset of epilepsy and introduced me to a trauma consultant who spent many hours digging to find a cause. In the end, one morning I said, “I know what it’s all about,” and told him that I was and always had been sure I was female. His expert opinion was that the life long identity trauma had finally caused epilepsy. He consulted colleagues skilled in the area and told me that I must consider reassignment as female if I were to survive.
“Must consider reassignment!” I said, “When can we start?”
I explained it all to Joyce, that morning in a supermarket coffee shop. She said she would do everything to help and support. My mother said it was no surprise, remembering my childhood and quoting the consultation when I was four years old.
So the process started with an additional assessment by an independent psychiatrist who agreed that the change was essential. After having been introduced to another patient who had completed treatment, I started hormone medication; with a full beard, I began complete facial epilation and appropriate genital epilation immediately.
My professional involvement with my work seemed to present a problem in undertaking the essential "living the role" period before surgery. This I solved by changing all aspects, including dress, hair style, cosmetics, and deportment by steps too small to be obvious in isolation. In a few months there I was, looking reasonably female.
I wrote to all my colleagues in industry and government informing them that I would soon be having surgery to complete my physical transformation. I received letters of support from every quarter and not one letter of objection.
I made an appointment for a consultation with a plastic surgeon skilled in the required art. He was just wonderful, opening by saying, “Tell me all about yourself and how you would like me to help you.”
I talked without interruption for more than half an hour. He simply said can you come to the clinic next month? You will be in for about ten days and off work for five weeks. Without exaggeration, this was the greatest day of my life.
While all this was occurring, I was directing the music for the annual pantomime and had a rehearsal that evening. Part way through I was called to the telephone. My surgeon said we have a cancellation, you can come in next week on Thursday and I
will operate on Friday.
The week in which I was making all the needed arrangements passed quickly. When I arrived at the clinic, I was welcomed by the director of nursing who told me, you are now Bernadette; I will show you to your room. I had a wonderful view of the autumn garden and every comfort.
All Things Bright And Beautiful. Musical performance by Libera, the boys section of St. Philip's Church choir (South London, UK). Their work integrates classical and traditional music with contemporary sounds. Libera videos are broadcast primarily on the BBCs religious program, Songs of Praise.
Performance: St. Philip's Boys Choir (Libera). Angel Voices Vol.2(3) All Things Bright And Beautiful. Audio CD. Label: Music Club. ASIN: B00000APOO. 12 Aug 1996. Video courtesy Libera.
Time 02:26
All Things Bright And Beautiful
Refrain
All things bright and beautiful,
All creatures great and small,
All things wise and wonderful:
The Lord God made them all.
Each little flower that opens,
Each little bird that sings,
He made their glowing colors,
He made their tiny wings.
Refrain
[Most hymnals omit the following verse]
The rich man in his castle,
The poor man at his gate,
He made them, high or lowly,
And ordered their estate.
Refrain
The purple headed mountains,
The river running by,
The sunset and the morning
That brightens up the sky.
Refrain
The cold wind in the winter,
The pleasant summer sun,
The ripe fruits in the garden,
He made them every one.
Refrain
The tall trees in the greenwood,
The meadows where we play,
The rushes by the water,
To gather every day.
Refrain
He gave us eyes to see them,
And lips that we might tell
How great is God Almighty,
Who has made all things well.
Refrain
There was the visit from the path man for blood samples and then the anaesthetist. He said that he always enjoyed treating reassignment patients as we were all such interesting people.
I slept well and the next morning at eight o’clock in came the surgeon with the consent document. He insisted I read every word of the shopping list: genital ablation, orchidectomy, penile amputation, construction of external female genitalia, and penile inversion vaginaplasty. Down to theatre with the usual anaesthetists quote, “Just a little scratch” and in seconds I was gone.
I awoke in the afternoon with a violent rigor, so I was wrapped in oven foil and sedated. By the evening I awoke again. At the bottom of the bed was the biggest bouquet I had ever seen with a note of dedication from that surgeon.
An assessment showed drips and catheters but no discomfort — that came the following day. My first bath was beautiful with me being mechanically lowered into the tub.
Several days passed, the catheter was removed, and I said to the nurse, “I want to look.” She thought that I should ask the surgeon first but I insisted, asking for a mirror. Pads were removed and there it all was.
I said that I was a church organist and a hymn came to mind, “All things bright and beautiful.” They all said “Ahhhh.” I said no, I mean the second verse “The purple headed mountain, the river running by!” [2]
The week passed; I was fragile but mobile, having learnt a number of new skills including dilation. I arranged that if all went well, I would return in six weeks for a check up.
At home everything had been prepared for my rehabilitation, with a specially made toroidal cushion, cards and more flowers. Visitors trouped in to meet the new Bernie; everyone was congratulatory and assured me of their support.
After a week at home, I tried out the organ stool and agreed to play on the following Sunday, saying, “It was my painful duty.” It was and I followed it with a pantomime rehearsal. All the children in the cast had already received an explanation about the director which they accepted and none of them gave it a second thought.
Soon it was time to take the chair at an important meeting in London. When I entered the room there was an envelope in front of the big chair. Inside the envelope was the key to the ladies’ room. Other than that, and referring to me as ‘Madam Chairman’, things were as they were.
I had weekly sessions with a competent voice therapist, who was also a well known local drama director. I learnt to adapt my vocabulary and perfect my vocal presentation and deportment. I found it interesting relearning ballroom dancing.
Soon it was January and the time for the review by the surgeon. We were all very contented but I had three areas of concern. The first was my voice, which I had analysed having all the audio measuring gear to hand. The basic resonance was not bad but I wanted more emphasis on the higher partials.
There was also a sizeable Adam’s apple. The surgeon said he could modify the larynx and shave off the Adam’s apple. Some rough calculations indicated that this was worthwhile, so it was back to the clinic for a night and a day. I was getting to recognise the ceiling leading to the theatre.
A couple of days later, a passer by said she hoped my thyroid would be better now. I was very pleased with the result.
I grew concerned that my breast development was unbalanced, so the surgeon offered a couple of implants to correct this and give me a figure which had been in my dreams. Finally, I had more than just a nose. As an unkind friend once said, “When Bernie turns round in a hurry, the doors slam.”
My wonder man said he could give me a pretty little nose. The post surgery discomfort rivalled that of the big job, but it was so worthwhile. I could now look in the mirror with complete pride.
At this time the media were much taken with older mothers. As ever my mother had the apt comment, “Having a son in her late 50s. That’s nothing! I’ve just had a daughter in my 70s.”
My mother’s name was Rhoda, which has biblical connections that suited her. That Rhoda was a servant in the disciples’ house in Jerusalem but St. Peter was banged up in the nick. [3] A handy angel sprung him and he went back to the house. Rhoda answered the door, slamming it in his face in disbelief. [4]
So I was happy and contented beyond belief. Now to exploit my new life.
[1]The Black Country. This is an area of the English West Midlands. It is located to the north and west of Birmingham, and to the south and east of Wolverhampton, around the South Staffordshire coalfield. Recent estimates place the population at approximately one million.
The Black Country area had become one of the most intensely industrialised in the UK by the late 19th century, with nearly umatched levels of air pollution. The region has a distinctive dialect, with slight variations, that binds residents, who generally claim an identity that is distinct from Birmingham.
[2]All Things Bright And Beautiful. In: Hymns for Little Children. Cecil Frances Alexander. 1848. Text: Cecil Frances Alexander; Music: 17th cent. English melody; arr. by Martin Shaw; Tune: ROYAL OAK, Meter: 76.76 with Refrain.
This is a famous Anglican hymn with ecumenical implications (it is often sung during other Christian services — such as those of the of the Roman Catholic Church). The text was written in 1848 by Cecil F. Alexander as a celebration of the Nicene Creed (NC), an ecumenical Christian statement of faith that is accepted in the Anglican Communion, the Catholic Church, many other forms of Protestantism.
Churches currently rely on an NC version adopted by the First Council of Constantinople (381), revising an original adopted at the First Council of Nicaea (325). The Creed is not part of Scripture, but a distillation of core principles that had the convenient effect of excluding certain heresies of the time. The Latin opening, Credimus in unum Deum Patrem omnipotentem; factorem coeli et terrae, visibilium, is usually rendered in English as We believe in one God the Father Almighty, Maker of heaven and earth, and of all things visible and invisible.
Alexander is thought to have written the lyrics at Markree Castle, near Sligo, Ireland, as a hymn that explained the Nicene Creed to children. However, some congregants intepret the text on several levels, mindful that the faithful must be as children before the Lord.
The piece can be sung to several melodies, in particular the 17th Century English melody Royal Oak, adapted by Martin Shaw, and Bright and Beautiful by William Henry Monk (1823-1889). There have also been other adaptations, such as a full choral piece by John Rutter.
[3](The) nick. Slang for police station, or prison. For instance, "He got banged-up in the nick for 6 months".
[4]King James Bible (KJV), Acts 12:12-17.
12:12 And when he had considered [the thing], he came to the house of Mary the mother of John, whose surname was Mark; where many were gathered together praying.
12:13 And as Peter knocked at the door of the gate, a damsel came to hearken, named Rhoda.
12:14 And when she knew Peter's voice, she opened not the gate for gladness, but ran in, and told how Peter stood before the gate.
12:15 And they said unto her, Thou art mad. But she constantly affirmed that it was even so. Then said they, It is his angel.
12:16 But Peter continued knocking: and when they had opened [the door], and saw him, they were astonished.
12:17 But he, beckoning unto them with the hand to hold their peace, declared unto them how the Lord had brought him out of the prison. And he said, Go shew these things unto James, and to the brethren. And he departed, and went into another place.
Ms. Bernadette Rogers is a retired science advisor, technology professional, and a pioneer of colour television. She is an avid musician who continues as a church organist. Bernadette's signed articles contain her own opinions and do not necessarily convey an official position of TS-Si, its partners, or affiliates.
Bernadette welcomes your comments. You can use the public form below or send private correspondence via the TS-Si Contact Page. We will not divulge any personal details or place you on a mailing list without your permission.
Crazy Sexy Cancer. This is the trailer for a documentary film by Kris Carr about her cancer adventure. It premiered on TLC and Discovery Health (Fall 2007).
Kris also authored two books, Crazy Sexy Cancer Tips and Crazy Sexy Cancer Survivor: More Rebellion and Fire for Your Healing Journey.
Ms. Bernadette Rogers
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