The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 2231 by Angharad Copyright © 2013 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

“You wanted to speak with me,” Sam Rose reminded me.

“Yes. I still don’t know if Danni is transgendered.”

“Oh dear, in which case she could be stuck with a lifestyle that is going to prove wrong for her.”

“That’s my worry.”

“How long has she lived in role?”

“A few months.”

“And she’s now effectively post op?”

“Yes, frightening isn’t it?”

“What does Stephanie say?”

“She isn’t sure either.”

“So she could find herself as a female to male transperson?”

“That is my nightmare.”

“Oh dear. I don’t know what to say.”

“There is nothing to say. Mr O’Rourke had no option but to go for the vaginoplasty because that was what Pia intended.”

“It’s a pain when being outmanoeuvred by a thirteen year old.”

“Try a nine year old,” I suggested.

“Ah no. I know my limitations. Why d’you think I palmed her off on you?”

“Obviously not for the reasons I thought it was.”

He smirked. “She’s done well with you.”

“I suppose she has. Have I done well with her though?”

“I think you’ve done remarkably well with her and by her. She’s a challenge but I think you’re one of the few people who could cope with it. You truly are a tzidkanit, aren’t you?”

“Didn’t you call me that once before?”

“I did, and I stand by it. I’ll also tell you that I’ve only ever called one other person it, and she died in a refugee camp in Jordan trying to save the lives of others.”

“Compared to her, I’m not worthy.”

“Who said I was comparing you? I was complimenting you. Now go and look after your newest daughter, but do it proudly as a tzidkanit–as a special one.”

I hugged him and went back into Danni’s room where the nurse was finishing washing her. “Here’s your mum, she can wash your hair for you.”

“Will you, Mummy?”

“Wash your hair?”

“Yeah, I know it’s short but it’s all greasy and ’orrible.”

“How about I ask Phoebe or Julie to do it for you tonight and to bring in a hairdryer to tidy it up?”

“Can’t you do it?”

“I didn’t bring any shampoo with me, darling.”

“Oh all right, ask Julie tonight.”

A woman police officer poked her head round the door, “Is this the boy that was castrated?”

I glared at her but Danni shrugged and said, “I haven’t seen any boys in here, have you, Mummy?”

“No I haven’t, darling,” I said refusing to break eye contact with this latest incarnation of plod mentality.

“The ward sister said he was in this room,” she blushed.

“This is a female ward, isn’t it?” I asked her.

“This end is, so is he up the other end?”

“How would I know?” I replied.

Okay, thanks.” She wandered off. I knew she’d be back and would be ratty but I didn’t like her attitude and would tell her so.

“Is she looking for me, d’you reckon?” asked Danni.

“Almost certainly. I doubt that yours is a common injury.”

“Me neither.”

I combed out Danni’s hair while we waited. She bumbled back in looking very grumpy. “Very funny–I don’t think.”

I shrugged, “You were looking for a boy, this is a girl.”

“Now, by all accounts. I’ve come to take a statement, if he/she can remember.”

“I think that from now on, the only pronoun that will be apposite for Danielle is a feminine one.”

“Okay, will it be all right if I take a statement from her.

“Ask her, not me.”

“You’re her mother?”

“Yes, but she’s thirteen and therefore able to tell you if she feels up to talking about it.”

“Do you, Danielle?”

“If you like.”

“I would like, we need to decide if there is enough evidence to prosecute your little friend with the scalpel.”

“Didn’t her parents make a statement?”

“I have no idea, I’ve only been told to speak with you.”

Danni agreed to talk to her and I intervened saying that this was still a very emotional subject to discuss and if I considered she was in too much distress, she would have to leave. She agreed but with reluctance.

She was there about an hour by which time Danni was flagging and I was getting ready to throw her out when she announced she had enough. She also apologised for her earlier insensitivity and told Danni she made a pretty girl and wished her good luck. Danni went off to sleep beaming with pride.

I’m sure that quite a significant number of people think transgender folk are like drag queens or have two heads. They seem genuinely surprised that we’re as normal as anyone else and just as nice.

A nurse came round with cups of tea and I took one gratefully. Danni had one too. When the nurse had gone, I said to her, “I didn’t think you liked tea?”

“I don’t, this is for you.” She handed me the cup, so I had to drink two cups of tea–but I think I was up to it.

She eventually had to give in to sleep and I made my escape leaving her to snooze and recover some of her strength. I did a little shopping on the way home worrying what we were going to give as presents this year–oh shit–I hadn’t done my cards even. I felt really dejected by the time I got home and it must have been obvious because Jacquie noticed it.

I was tired, stressed and too close to Christmas for comfort. I admitted that I hadn’t done my cards and she offered to help me. After a quick lunch we set to and I wrote the cards while she addressed them. Next year, I determined to do a label set up on the computer–a job for Sammi while she’s recovering, perhaps.

Later, I posted the cards on the way to hospital. Danni was sleeping so I went to see Sammi whose boyfriend was there so I spoke briefly to them and went off to see Danni again. She was still sleeping so I just sent her love as I sat down beside her. After a few minutes she called out my name, although still asleep. I answered her and she settled down again. Some five minutes later she woke up and said, “I was dreaming you were here, everything was covered in this blue light, so I knew you were about.”

“I think it was just a dream, darling.”

“No, because you were here when I woke up.”

“I think that would disprove your argument, wouldn’t it?”

“I dunno,” she said, “I’m too tired to argue.” She looked at me and said, “I still can’t believe I’m really a girl, I really can’t.”

“It takes more than having a vagina to be a girl, darling.”

“Yeah, I know that, but it like helps, doesn’t it?”

“Of course it does.”

“I means I’ve got to sit to wee an’ things.”

I wasn’t sure how I felt about her superficial understanding of being female. However I gave her the benefit of the doubt. She was after all still recovering from a general anaesthetic and a very powerful and emotional experience, not to mention a traumatic one. It was therefore not the time or place to judge her, and in doing so, myself.