A Change Of gender And Beyond
Chapter 11
by F.W. Hinton
When Shaun awoke after the operation she was so heavily
bandaged she was certain something awful must have happened
in the theatre. She had read about women who had had their
breasts removed because of cancer. The hideous scars that
went from their armpits right across their chests.
" Please God don't let it happen to me," she whispered.
She remembered someone telling her that breast cancer only
affected women over forty five, and she was nowhere near
that age. Laura she knew, would have nothing to do with her.
The best she could hope for was that she might treat her as
a sister.
She touched the bandage around her chest, felt a sudden
stinging pain, and knew the scars must be horrific.
" Oh God I wish I hadn't had this operation." she said
aloud, " everything was all right before." Even as a man,
she thought, who would want to look at someone's bare chest
covered in scars. How could she go around bare to the waist
like other men. If there are no complications, why am I
bandaged like this?" she asked the nurse who suddenly
appeared and had come to tuck the covers around her.
" Don't worry dear," the nurse said with a smile, " the
surgeon will be along in a moment. Just about through Dr
Cade?" the nurse said as the surgeon walked in, " I have
someone in the other ward that needs watching. All right if
I look in from time to time? Unless you think there is some
respiratory risk."
He shook his head. " No risk, thank you nurse. I'm going to
stay for a few minutes. Just to make sure she doesn't start
trying to move the dressing."
The Surgeon felt Shaun needed reassuring, some one to calm
her, settle her down. When the nurse closed the door he sat
by her bed. He thought Shaun looked more like a child in
sleep than a grown woman. As a plastic surgeon he wondered
why someone who looked so warm, kind and gentle would want
to change their gender.
The mastectomy was only the beginning. Perhaps, he thought,
even hoped that someone, or some thing would eventually
change her mind.
It was Shaun's first day out of bed. She had a feeling of
well-being, happy with her progress and smiled as Laura came
in to see her.
" You're sitting up," Laura observed taking hold of her
hands, " is it all right? Did the doctor say you are
allowed?"
" For meals-and a little while after. He told me not to
touch the dressing. Wish I could they itch like crazy."
" When does the dressing come off?"
" In a day or two. I think I must be badly scarred. Oh
Laura, I'm so scared. I don't want to see my chest. I know
you won't want me near you. If only I had listened to you. I
hate being bound up like this."
Shaun started to cry. When she laid down, Laura comforted
her.
" I'm so sorry," Shaun sobbed, " I feel so mean. If only
things were like they used to be. We were both happy then. I
know we were."
Dr Cade came into Shaun's room a few days later with a nurse
wheeling a trolley.
" This is the morning," he said with a grin.
Shaun's eyes were dark and wide. " It - must it be now?
Today!"
" Don't tell me you want to stay in this place? Your friend
Laura is waiting for you. Now shall we see what's under
this dressing? Scissors, .."
" No! please. I know what's under there I can't bear to
look."
" Be still Shaun," the nurse said sternly, " the scissors
are very sharp, and you're being a silly girl."
The adhesive tape parted. Dr Cade changed the scissors for
forceps to remove the containing crepe and stained wool. He
began to tease away the impregnated gauze. Splits in the
skin he knew were unpredictable. He worried about the one on
the left, even though it had been lifted accurately with his
diathermy knife. The axilla had been drained, but he wished
the arm had been kept raised longer. He lifted the
remainder of the gauze away, dropping it into the receptacle
the nurse held ready. He studied the area he had left bare,
allowed his breath to sigh out in relief as he saw the new
skin.
Shaun opened her eyes, their troubled glance questioning
him.
" Just fine so far, looks like a cover," he smiled, " the
scars are soft and pale-there is just one place, not quite
clear," he frowned, " looks loose. Forceps please nurse."
Shaun closed her eyes. She felt the cold steel touch the
place where her left breast used to be, the hesitation of
the loosened, still clinging residue. Then it was gone.
" Swab."
The dampened swab touched her chest, cleansing it with
gentle movements. It stung, felt cold. Instruments rattled
as the doctor discarded them.
" Now would be a good time to pray," she said to herself.
" You can open your eyes now Shaun," the nurse told her.
She found reassurance in the calmness of her voice. She
looked down at her chest as Dr Cade stood back. The nurse
held a mirror for her.
" Thank God," Shaun whispered. The skin on each side of her
chest showed a fresh pink colouring. She knew that the scars
were so thin that when the colour evened out they would
almost disappear. She looked past the mirror at Dr Cade who
was studying the skin texture through narrowed eyes.
" Does it please you Shaun Maclaren?"
Gingerly she touched her chest.
" Very much. It makes me feel so much better."
" You can go home in a day or two," he told her as he left
the room.
" Home," she said softly, " I thought today. Someone said
Laura was waiting."
" Doctor wants you to stay here for at least another day.
You must lie down now and rest," the nurse added giving her
an injection.
Laura will never love me again," she said as she closed her
eyes.
This was the first time Laura had lived without Shaun for
three years. She threw herself into her work, and though her
period of chronic alcoholism now seemed like an incredible
nightmare she continued to attend the monthly meetings of
the A. A. She realized that if she wanted to avoid another
mistake, they were going to be a part of her life forever.
Shaun came home from the hospital spent the first few days
crying, and the nights sobbing in her sleep. Dr Cade told
Laura it could happen and referred to it as 'Post-operative
Blues'. Laura moved Shaun's things back into the empty
quarters and treated her like a troublesome sister. Not once
inquiring as to how she was feeling or managing.
Shaun dismissed her disappointment at first, but slowly she
became conscious of Laura's tight-lipped indignation. She
knew she must leave the apartment.
The months she had spent at the University made Shaun feel
she was capable of doing something more with her life than
chauffeuring people around. She bought a flat down the
coast, decided on the tourist industry and took an intensive
six months course learning the language of the Japanese.
In the beginning it appeared an impossible subject to
master. But determined to succeed she studied every night,
until the small hours. Received professional tuition every
day becoming, fluent, quick and accurate. She accepted as
many translation contracts from tourist Agents as she could
handle and tried to blot Laura out of her mind.
Shaun quickly made new male friends within the industry, A
world wide agency asked her to act as a guide for their
Japanese clients which gave her a continuity of work. The
first weeks of tourist guiding was a delight to Shaun
Maclaren. She relished the power the position gave her. She
was accepted as a man by everyone. She liked the excitement
of drawing the coachload of tourists into an entity through
the force of her own personality and enthusiasm.
She was flattered by their attention when she described the
passing sights, and revelled in their laughter at her jokes.
She felt all important when she stepped down from the coach
with all their passports in her hand ready to give to the
Hotel receptionist.
A month after guiding by day and translating in the evenings
she found herself in need of some form of relaxation. She
had become friendly with one of the male tour guides who was
studying for his degree. He was reserved, tall, slim and
considered by many of the female agency staff as a real
dish. Occasionally they went to a hotel for a drink and a
laugh, but he had been given an address and did not want to
go there alone.
" It's quite safe," he told Shaun in confidence, " medically
inspected, reasonable prices. We could have the time of our
lives."
Shaun made all sorts of excuses, finding it impossible to
refuse. She couldn't tell him she was really a female who'd
had a mastectomy to make her look like a man.
Later that week, when her charges had been settled in their
hotel, her friend knocked on her door demanding she go with
him. They went to a cafe that somehow suggested a cross
between a shop and a private residence. Her mind raced as
the Madame showed them to a table and gave them a drink.
Minutes later they were shown into a windowless room on the
left of the hallway. In a corner, at the far end of the
room was a stage. Madame clapped her hands. A door opened
and onto the stage trooped four women. All dressed alike in
clinging blue gowns that were split on one side up to their
thighs. They smiled and arranged themselves in a
semi-circle. Shaun's friend found it difficult to chose.
Eventually he picked a girl with long black hair, a lean
nondescript woman whose friendly smile was marred by
irregular teeth. As they left the room Shaun breathed a sigh
of relief.
" Well! Which one?" Madame asked turning to Shaun.
Shaun gasped in amazement.
" Well!" Madame asked again, minutes later.
" Eh-the- -the blonde," she spluttered at last.
She followed the girl into a deep-piled carpeted room. with
mythological obscenities painted on a dark wallpaper. There
was a wash-basin, a divan with a mauve cover and tasselled
pillows.
As soon as the door was closed the girl took off the gown
which was her sole garment. For a brief moment Shaun's mind
faltered, she thought she was looking at a little girl who
had opened her dressing gown.
" Look," Shaun said, " I have a problem. Here's fifty, for
your time."
" Wait Mr," the girl said, " use the fire escape, go out of
the window."
Shaun felt that part of her had been cut off since leaving
Laura and the city, and longed to tell someone about her
guiding experiences. She had made a few friends, all of them
male. When, under protest they persuaded her to visit the
local hotel as one of the boys, she became concerned in case
she drunk too much and revealed her true identity.
Laura, feeling lonely, needing love and a friend to confide
in, invited Shaun to dinner. Delighted she accepted,
ignoring the premonition that this was probably the last
time she would ever see Laura Finch.
It was obvious that very little cooking had been done in the
apartment, and Shaun suggested that it might be more
convenient if they dined at their favourite restaurant.
Laura became incensed, demanding they eat in her home,
having bought veal chops, salad and fresh cheddar cheese.
From the cupboard she brought two bottles of red wine,
neglecting to tell Shaun that she had bought a large bottle
of gin.
Careful not to drink too much by filling her glass only a
quarter full then waiting for Shaun to finish before
refilling her own. Laura thought she could prove to Shaun
she could now handle her drinking and was in full control.
Shaun spoke about Uncle John, who she thought had now become
Aunt Nicole, asked Laura what she looked like and whether
she still attended the Community Church Fellowship.
Indignant, Laura got up from the table. " All you're
interested in Shaun Maclaren is Aunt Nicole. You don't want
to listen to any of my problems," she told her angrily, "
you are becoming a typical male. I hate men. Those who try
to be like them are obviously no different."
Shaun, not wanting to argue with Laura left the apartment
immediately.
Left on her own Laura burst into tears, vowed never to touch
another drop of gin and smashed the bottle in the sink. She
sat in the chair and drank the second bottle of wine. In the
morning she suffered not only a headache but self-accusation
and swore she would never have anything to do with Shaun
Maclaren again.
Worried about Laura, Shaun telephoned Dr Mitchell the
following day asking for an appointment.
" Come round this evening for a chat," the doctor suggested,
" we can talk about Laura, Nicole and your problems."
Shaun accepted the invitation, and eager for company Kerry
Michell made her welcome. Over coffee, Shaun told her about
Laura and asked about Aunt Nicole. The doctor burst into
peels of laughter when Shaun told her about her experience
at the brothel.
Eventually the conversation came around to Shaun's problems.
" I really think I need a tonic," Shaun told her, " I feel
so tired. It's causing my work to suffer. My periods are my
main problem."
" Is the flow extensive?" Kerry Mitchell asked.
" Yes!" Shaun admitted, " I don't like talking about it, but
it is making life difficult."
" Are you constipated?"
" Most of the time. I've been having some real bad
migraine. Sometimes it affects my sight."
Dr Mitchell thought for a moment. " You know Shaun, it's
probably the testosterone therapy fighting the bodies
natural hormones. I think it's time for the next step
towards your sex-reassignment."
" What would that be?"
" A hysterectomy. I'll have a chat to Dr O'Donnell. If he
can get his team to agree I'll get things moving."
Delighted with her suggestion, Shaun thanked her and got up
to leave.
" It's a long drive to the coast," Kerry Mitchell observed,
" perhaps you should stay the night."
Listening to the rain, thinking about the wet roads, her
flat, where she knew she would worry about Laura Finch,
Shaun accepted.
" Nightie-or pyjamas?" Kerry asked as she took Shaun by the
hand and led her upstairs, " and when you're ready I'll
check that mastectomy-make sure there's no problem with the
scars."
During the past months Shaun had managed to control the
inner feelings that the testosterone therapy was creating.
Now laying on the bed and being examined by Kerry Mitchell,
who wore only a short dressing gown they began to surface
more strongly than ever before.
Encouraged by Kerry Mitchell, she gave full vent to her
feelings as they made love, a new kind of love. A love that
was different, lasting longer, more fulfilling than Shaun
had ever experienced before. During the night Shaun awoke
with bad cramping pains. She rolled from side to side. Her
knees drawn up and down in spasm. She clutched Kerry's hand
as the spiral of pain increased. The pain, trapped inside
her, struggling to escape, swelling and tearing it's way
across her body. Shaun felt as if she were going to die.
Kerry gave her a pain-killing injection and drew a blanket
close around Shaun's shivering body.
" Has this happened before?" Kerry Mitchell asked after she
had phoned for an ambulance. " Only when I get my periods.
Usually I get lucky and pass out. When I wake up the pain
has gone."
Shaun woke up in St James's Central Hospital. For hours she
lay weak and speechless, aware only of the drip in her arm.
A nurse came in, smiled straightened the bed.
" Doctor will be along in a moment," she told Shaun as she
left the ward.
Dr Mitchell sat by her bed, comforted her, spoke soft words
and stroked her forehead. She felt her examine her legs. The
left one was painful, and heavy.
When she awoke again someone was telling her to draw up her
knees. To Shaun Maclaren it all seemed to be some sort of
terrible dream. Then she heard Kerry, telling her that the
hysterectomy had been successful.
A week later she obtained her discharge from St James's
Hospital on the condition that she remain in the care of Dr
Mitchell. Shaun felt exhausted, unutterably sad and at a
loss to understand her reactions, when she knew she should
be happy taking the next step towards her gender change.
She stayed with Kerry Mitchell for a few days, but
desperately wanted to be on her own in her flat at the
coast. Eventually Dr Mitchell agreed telling her she must
write, and telephone her at least once a week.
On her own Shaun stayed in bed, unwilling to answer the
telephone or open the door, and when anyone knocked or rang
she burst into a fit of crying. After a few days she decided
to go to the shops. Unable to be amongst people she returned
to the flat as quickly as she could. Shaun Maclaren knew
perfectly well that she was very lucky, with absolutely no
reason to feel sorry for herself. She felt anxious about the
melancholia that was overtaking her, locked her self in the
flat, hoping that with large doses of pain-killers and sleep
the mood would pass.
Dr Michell unable to contact her by phone or letter was
worried. at a Community Church Fellowship meeting she saw
Nicole. Her gender change had been an outstanding success.
Kerry Mitchell spoke to her about Shaun and asked her to
help.
With a friend from the church, Nicole arrived at Shaun's
flat the next day. They rang the bell and banged on the door
without result. Nicole thought she heard a moaning sound and
forced open the door.
The flat smelt of stale air. The sink in the kitchen was
full of dirty crockery, including pots and pans. There was
litter and newspapers everywhere, and in one corner of the
lounge room a pile of unwashed clothing.
A moaning sound came from the bedroom and they found Shaun
laying naked on her bed as if in some sort of coma. Nicole
was amazed to see how strangely Shaun Maclaren had changed,
and stood staring at her, remembering how she had looked at
the Holy Union. Gone was her hard pronounced shapliness. In
place of the firm arrogant breasts were two very small, very
flat nipples with a thin, almost invisible scar close to
them. Instead of her curved well-fed belly, a flat
depression stretched down between the two protruding bones
of her pelvis. Two ungainly looking sticks replaced her once
fine muscular legs.
The biggest change, Nicole thought was in her face. It was
white, emaciated, dominated by eyes that her thinness made
enormous. Beneath them etched furrows of fatigue. Her
mouth, as Nicole remembered, once a natural, never needing,
make-up pink was now an enlarged dark mass with fine hairs
on her top lip. Her whole body gave off a strange impression
of liquefaction, like a candle consumed by it's own flame.
Nicole remarked to her friend that Shaun Maclaren, hadn't so
much slimmed as melted. They stayed the night. Cleaned up
the flat. Bathed Shaun, and forced her to eat some cereals.
The following morning they fed Shaun again while she sat
limply in a chair. Forced her to drink black coffee, then
dressed her in slacks and the only clean shirt that could be
found. They took her to Dr Mitchell, who, after examining
her, made arrangements for her to go into the Community
Church Nursing Home.
Olive Cotton was a dark, plump widow with the shadow of a
moustache and trotting feet in small shoes. She was Matron
of the nursing home with a special interest in diet and
psychiatry.
From the start Matron Cotton was the one who focused for
Shaun Maclaren the complicated nursing home scene when she
arrived stiff and speechless. She helped Shaun put away her
things. Showed her the island of her property, bed, chair,
rug, and locker in the long dormitory that immediately
reminded her of the Convent, causing her to scream out in
terror. Shaun suffered badly from nightmares. She knew so
clearly what was happening to her. Understood her own
gradation from the first numbness of the realization that
she had had an hysterectomy, to a most awful pity and
self-accusation. ( If I had not run across the road at
Westhill Casey Ann would not have died ).
Through sleeplessness, and then sleeping to escape. Through
all these, in a long, long slide to a dark sombre place,
where at last depression closed around her like a curtain.
She had dreams of falling, of crashing down cellar stairs.
She remembered her mother talking about her Grandfather,
John Carlyle. She could still see his photograph in her
mother's locket.
She opened a door, stepped into an elevator shaft. She could
hear her own screams borne away on the wind of a fall. She
had nightmares of stairs, interminable stairs. This time
going up. Coming out on top to stand on a narrow ledge,
trying to reach a light that flickered, a light that was
impossible to reach. Waking up in a cold sweat of terror.
Breaking out into a bout of hypoglycaemia, where she became
dizzy. She twitched and began to itch all over. She felt the
prick of a syringe as sleep overcame her.
Under Matron Cotton's supervision Shaun slowly gained
weight. Although the nightmares had disappeared she still
dreamt of Laura. Of herself as a complete, whole, useful
man. She dreamt of beautiful women who would fight for her
company. After six weeks she was allowed to return to her
flat providing she attend Dr O'Donnell's rooms once a week.
The time spent with the Psychiatrist went easily, with none
of the raw moments the doctor had expected. He thought
Shaun had become a somewhat religious hysteric who did not
appear to be harmful to herself or others. He was not
cynical about what he had always recognized in Shaun
Maclaren as a pilgrimage away from an unsatisfactory life.
After lengthy consultations with his colleagues and Dr
Mitchell. Dr O'Donnell made arrangements for Shaun to
complete her sex-reassignment assessment. The Psychiatric
unit at the Community Church Hospital, was he decided the
best place for her to stay, for the two week assessment
period.
Shaun remembered the hospital, which she still thought
looked like a mad giant's castle outside, and a giant
anthill within. The psychiatric ward was no different from
any other ward. The same kind of furniture. The same kind of
people, sitting, staring, shuffling about, or lying on their
beds with their toes turned up in little rooms off the
corridor. The meals were the same. The orderly brought round
the medicine on the same kind of tray. The same kind of
music came out of the headphones.
During tea on the second day a woman doctor came into her
room and told her she would be examined in the morning,
after rounds and medication. That there would be an aptitude
test. The clock in the corridor struck eleven when she went
to the Psychiatrist's office and opened the door.
The doctor looked up from her desk and motioned Shaun to sit
opposite her.
She felt suddenly tense, not at all relaxed the way she did
with Dr O'Donnell. This doctor she thought would give her
no reassurance as she clenched her teeth making her jaws
ache.
" What are your thoughts?" the doctor asked, taken by the
intensity of Shaun's stare out the window.
" Of Westhill. The cottage opposite, the beach where we
stayed, and I would become the Captain of a huge sailing
ship. Then Casey Ann went away and everyone said it was my
fault. But why am I telling you all this? Is it the tablets
the orderly forced me to take this morning before
breakfast?"
" Do you still enjoy the fantasies about being a ship's
captain?" The psychiatrist wanted to continue this train of
thought, even though Shaun had made a long pause.
" No I don't think about that any more. I don't have that
much imagination. Sometimes I think about Casey Ann. Mostly
I think about being a man. That's because I am a man,
trapped in this body, which through the fault of your
doctors is neither male or female."
" You give me the impression of being- -perhaps haunted. Are
you? By your-twin sister?" " Perhaps I am." There was a long
pause. " Tell me about it," the psychiatrist asked. " Oh, I
don't really know. I don't think I should."
" Why won't you tell me about it Shaun?"
" I will if you tell me about the medication your orderly
forced me to take this morning, after I told him I didn't
need it."
" You were not forced Shaun. You were given a relaxant. I
thought it would help you to talk about things more easily.
It was a short acting hypnotic drug. Mogodon ( Nitrazepam )
which I doubt would mean anything to you."
There was another long pause. Shaun found it difficult to
concentrate.
" Can't you be haunted by what you've not done?" Shaun
asked, " can you lie and dream of what you are fated to do?"
she continued without waiting for an answer, " then wake and
find yourself not strong enough to do it? Don't you know the
nightmare of feeling there is something you have to do-you
can't tell what.
It may be to get somewhere, find something, or warn
someone-all the time knowing that you can't get it done.
Your feet are clogged. Something with a smiling, sinister
face is catching you up, at the end-"
" You wake up, sobbing, and it isn't done," the Psychiatrist
added.
" Always," returned Shaun. " I am a man. I was born a man.
Now I am trapped. Sometimes I dream a dream through to the
finish."
" It is difficult for one to accept. Can you help me as a
doctor to understand?"
" Some people," Shaun continued, ignoring the doctor's
interruptions, " say one dream merges into another, so that
you only end it by waking. Some say no one ever dreams their
own death-dying-yes, and trembling with fear, but not dead-I
do. I dream my dream out, then quite logically-I dream that
I am a man-a complete, whole man- -or dead."
" And the dream itself Shaun?"
" Oh no," she answered with a laugh, " that belongs to
another world, where not even you as a doctor are admitted."
" But I could find out," the Psychiatrist threatened, " so
why not tell me?"
" You are welcome to find out-if you think you can. At
present I am regarded as sane and harmless, while I live in
the real world of a female. But the moment another soul
entered my dream-world, the only world I know as a real man
I should be mocked and reviled."
Shaun suddenly felt very tired. She laid down on the couch
and watched the psychiatrist through half-closed eyes.
The doctor decided that a little well-timed opposition, a
chance question or patronizing display of interest would be
sufficient to loosen her tongue. Perhaps unlock a stream of
words, even an inexhaustible flow of ideas. The bait was
taken. A hint or a challenge and the psychiatrist knew
Shaun Maclaren would begin to talk, slowly, differentially,
calm, judicial, perhaps restrained. She clicked her fingers.
Suddenly Shaun's eyes brightened, her face grew animated as
an unexpected avenue of thought opened to her view. She
raced down it, trying to drag the doctor in breathless
pursuit
Whimsical, picturesque, winged with paradox and flashing
epigram, the ideas crowded and jostled each other till her
brain grew dizzy with the sight of fantastic dream -figures
made startlingly real.
The soft eager voice of the psychiatrist, rising and falling
in musical cadence lost it's deliberate intonation and took
on a speed and gentleness she had not known.
At times the doctor watched her pause, hesitate as the
possibilities of a new theory of gender change unfolded
themselves, and then piece by piece arrange the setting of
the tableau.
The richness and strength of Shaun Maclaren's mind
communicated to the doctor's as they talked. The
psychiatrist's brain grew clearer, bolder, more penetrating
as Shaun moved in a finer air and felt the doctor's
intellect yielding her of it's best.
The awakening came with the cruel abruptness of a broken
dream, as once again the psychiatrist snapped her fingers.
Shaun's mind went flat like the slack string of a violin.
The reaction making her vow never to enter into the charmed
circle again.
Tomorrow, Shaun knew would be her last day at the hospital.
She had been there ten days. After her last consultation,
the doctor informed her she would be writing up her report
for the panel of psychiatrists who would interview her in
the morning. Shaun asked if the report would be favourable,
but the doctor told her she could not discuss it at that
time.
Deep into the night Shaun lay listening to the noises of the
other sleeping patients. The pallid light of day was
already sifting out the sky before sleep overtook her.
Smartly dressed in shirt, tie, and tailored suit, Shaun
Maclaren entered the room where the panel of three
psychiatrists were sitting at a long table in the centre.
She was motioned to sit in front of them, reminding her of
her Army days when she was informed of her discharge. Dr
Beauchamp sat in the center of the panel. Shaun thought he
looked like another Dr O'Donnell, and wondered if all male
psychiatrists had a similar look.
" Ah!" he said with a false smile, " you are-er Shaun
Maclaren," he paused, glance at the doctors on either side
of him, " we, my colleagues and I have studied the report
and are pleased that you have fulfilled the criteria
required for sex-reassignment."
There was along pause. The silence, agonizing as they sat
staring at her.
" However," he continued, as he raised his horn-rimmed
glasses to the back of his head,
" we find that we are not able to recommend that you have
the operations necessary for a change of gender. The main
problem being, that you are not, and have not for some
considerable time, been in a stable relationship. This
being the ruling factor. With regard to your medical
condition, tests have shown that there are traces of blood
in your urine, which suggests you could have a tumour. But
as I have indicated, the main factor is an unstable
relationship."
Shaun Maclaren was devastated. The silence unbearable.
" What!" she shouted, rising from the chair.
" You sit there in judgement and have the audacity to tell
me that because I do not have a stable relationship, that I
Shaun Maclaren cannot become a man. Who gave you the right
to become judge and jury? You and your band of high and
mighty religious cohorts have forced me to have a
mastectomy, a hysterectomy, untold misery and a series of
nightmarish dreams. Furthermore, you and your panel of
so-called psychiatrists, without my permission forced me
into a state of hypnosis. Which I feel could reasonably be
construed into an act for malpractice.
Because of you," Shaun continued, " I am at this moment,
neither man or woman. But instead I am as your staff, and
possibly you so laughingly put it, nothing more than a
neuter." " But we-" spluttered Dr Beauchamp. " That is my
colleagues and I."
" I can tell you here and now," Shaun roared angrily,
ignoring his attempt at protesting, " I am a man. I will
become a complete man, and I do not require your ridiculous
assessment. And Dr Johnathan Beauchamp, I might add, I will
become a man, which, in spite of your balls is something you
will never be, and in future you will refer to me as Mr
Shaun Maclaren."