On this unfamiliar dawn large cloud formations lit by a pale sun formed a purple mass over the city. Motionless, the clouds could have been solid matter, rocky peaks, and mountains afloat in the sky. On it's descent the plane was suddenly buffeted like a kite in a wind tunnel.
Shaun Maclaren anxious to see Professor Gaisford at the appointed time was among the first passengers to leave the Boeing 747. He entered the stuffy terminal, passed quickly through customs and immigration, where his much used passport caused the immigration officer to make a mild joke about how he should have a season ticket to his city. Shaun, too concerned to reply, smiled, rushed outside and took a cab, with a cheerful driver to the hospital.
Professor Gaisford sat in his office overlooking the elegant gardens of the hospital grounds. He stared at the door, absent-mindedly, waiting for Shaun Maclaren to arrive. He had made a long and detailed study of the sex-reassignment program, now he was forced to tell -his favourite patient that a manufactured penile prosthesis could not be implanted.
He had read, re-read, all the reports, and history before, and after Shaun's Vagus nerve operation. The report on the removal of the tumour, on which he had insisted. It was obvious that his bladder had been weakened and any attempt at implanting a solid penile prosthesis, would almost certainly be rejected by Shaun's body.
Shaun listened to the Professor's explanation but all he could think of was Macia's cruel, harsh words. In one blow, all his hopes of ever becoming a complete whole man, gone. He stared at the Professor Gaisford, his face a ghost like white. He seemed incapable of speaking.
His disappointment turned slowly to anger. This was the second time his dreams, his hopes had been shattered. He knew it wasn't the Professor's fault. But to have suffered the agony of having a pedicle raised. To have worked so hard to cover all the expenses, only to find out it was all in vain. That because of an operation Maureen had forced him into and an Army doctor had performed, he, Shaun Maclaren would now never be a whole man.
He stood up, wanting to leave the hospital. He wanted to Run, run like hell, get away, from the Professor, everything, run away and die. Tears welled up behind his eyes. "I am a man," he screamed inwardly trying to fight back the tears, "Real men,..they don't cry." Professor Gaisford looked closely at his patient.
"Cry Shaun," he said with a smile. "I know you're a man. Let go Shaun. Men they cry. There is no shame in releasing your pent-up feelings. There is hope. There's always hope."
"Hope! No!" Shaun retorted angrily, "because of an unnecessary operation, you have told me my body will reject an implant. What's left? Macia called me a useless neuter. I know now she was right. Why go on? I can't live with just hope. Please, leave me alone, allow me to die."
"Maclaren! Sit down and listen to me," the Professor said angrily.
"There is hope. We do have an alternative, but it is an experiment, one, that my colleagues and I firmly believe has a ninety percent chance of being successful. The procedure has been tried in other laboratories with limited success. Here, in this hospital another method has been developed. For us it will be a first, and I know with your help we will succeed. It will help so many other people, not only transexuals like yourself."
"An experiment! A first. Me, a guinea-pig." the minutes of silence seemed unending.
Suddenly Shaun realized there was hope, a chance, a reason for living, if only to prove Macia and all those others wrong. He knew in his heart that all he had to cling to was the ability of Professor Gaisford.
"How?" he asked as he returned to his seat. "Why? When?"
"Before your salpingo-oophorectomy, and from your records," the Professor began, "we have found that after your Vagus operation you were given hormone treatment, which in your case caused super ovulation. It is not clear, why at that
stage you were given hormone therapy, but a large number of
eggs from your ovaries were collected and frozen. We have
been able to acquire them and have taken some of them
through various experiments with outstanding results.
With your consent, I will take a section of erectile tissue
from your clitoris. From your vaginal canal, which consists
of a muscular coat, a layer of erectile tissue and an
internal coat of squamous epithelium, which are cells,
rather like an shell I will take another section.
Using your egg cells, the erectile tissue and a suitable
vehicle we will clone a penis which your body will accept. A
portion of your vaginal lining will be used. The horizontal
folds will help to keep it's shape during growth."
"How will you make it grow?" Shaun asked, trying to disperse the doubts in his mind as to the success of the experiment.
The Professor thought for a moment. "It is a complicated
system Shaun, but broadly speaking, the egg cell from the
ovaries posses a storehouse of nutrients, and these are
needed for development. We are now able to remove the Zona
Pellucida, which promotes normal cell division by using an
enzyme.
Our people feel, that by grafting the erectile tissues,
replacing the nucleus of the egg with the nucleus of some of
the new tissue, and using sodium alginate, a derivative of
seaweed, a novel technique, which has been improved at this
hospital we will provide a substitute for the Zona
Pellucidia. We know that when we put this artificial coating
around the cell they will grow.
With this new coating the cells will be in a solution of
deoxyribonucleic acid, beginning in a large Petri dish. It
will be fed with the genetically engineered growth hormone (BST)."
"I know now that you will be successful," Shaun interrupted excitedly, "how will you manage to keep it erect without a strong blood supply?"
"From our discussions over the past months I realize you
have an understanding of the construction of the normal
penis. As you may know Shaun, it has three cylindrical columns
surrounded by fibrous sheaths. The cylindrical compartments
become divided up into spaces like a honeycomb, capable of
distension by venous blood supply when there is erection
stimulus. The largest columns lie side by side in front. They are as
you know corpora cavernosa. The smaller one, the corpus
spongiosum lies behind and between them. We are going to
clone the penis around three micropipettes, which will keep
them erect. We will use one of the corpora cavernosa
channels as a urethra canal. Eventually it will be joined to
your urethra canal which is about one and a half inches
long. This is a fairly simple operation as your canal is a
quarter inch wide and easy to dilate. At the termination of the penis the pipette we use as a urethra canal will end in the deep grove of the heart shaped portion covering the other two pipettes. We intend to keep
the base flaccid with the folds we take from the internal
section of your vagina.
The head of the clitoris will be buried within the shaft,
and we believe that the thrusting movement of coitus will
stimulate the clitoris sufficiently to bring about sexual
arousal. As I told you before you will be able to avoid
social embarrassment by placing the penis against the
abdominal wall and wearing tight underwear. In your case
when you remove the underwear, the penis will erect
slightly, but because of the blood flow through the erectile
tissue, the penis will increase to a full erection when
stimulated. The closure of the vagina, will as I told you earlier be a
separate operation and will require a lengthy stay in
hospital."
"How long will the experiment take?"
"Bearing in mind that this will be our first attempt Shaun, it is difficult to say with any great accuracy. We all know the full gestation period is forty weeks. I feel a reasonable estimation would be thirty to thirty two weeks."
"After you have taken the tissue for the laboratory, when do you think I should return for the testicular insertion?
Professor Gaisford glanced at his diary. "The operation for the removal of tissue has been booked for tomorrow, providing you agree to the procedure. Perhaps after a few days recovery we could insert the testes. It will reduce the cost of going home and coming out again in a few weeks time. But it does depend on how you perform under the anaesthetic."
"Is there a risk of my body rejecting the testicular prosthesis?" Shaun asked.
"I don't think we will have a problem. As I have already
explained, because you have a weak bladder, a solid implant
could cause damage, and your body would almost certainly
reject it. That is one of the reasons why, the laboratory
staff, including myself are so excited about cloning a penis
from your own cells that we know will not be rejected.
With the testes it is somewhat different. They are as you
know inserted within the lips of your vagina, the Labia
Majora. There is in that area, smooth muscle, fat and skin
and an ample supply of blood and nerve.
I feel it only fair to tell you Shaun, that because of the
nerve endings there will be some discomfort until the wound
has completely healed.
The healing process will take some time. We will of course
be able to ease the discomfort with medication. In the
beginning you will be on morphine, and eventually
Pethidrine."
The lights over the table glared down. The curt orders of Professor Gaisford and his assistant kept gloved hands moving in and out of the circle of light that showed towels and intent masked faces. Gloved hands that clamped off bleeders with blunt haemostatic forceps, and swabbed away the misting blood.
A new scalpel came into the Professor's hands, exercising delicately as it followed the most difficult part of planning away tissues. He looked for the head nurse in charge of the petri dishes and humid container. With the tissues and linings safely inside, Nurse Wainwright took them to the laboratory on the sixth floor.
The Professor straightened up as the serious faced anaesthetist read the recordings of pulse, pressure and respiration. The patient on the table was normal.
When Professor Gaisford announced that the testicular prosthesis would be inserted immediately, the tension in the theatre mounted. Minutes later, diagrams and X-rays were displayed.
"Ready Doctor?" the Professor asked when the masking tapes were in place.
The doctor nodded. Professor Gaisford looked back from the diagrams. He no longer needed them, they were firmly fixed in his mind.
All thoughts of Shaun Maclaren, his favourite patient faded as he studied the operative area.
"Scalpel!" He recognised Nurse Wainwright's blue eyes behind the mask. Pleased that she had returned so quickly from the lab, he smiled at her. Automatically he felt the weight of the scalpel, then prepared the inner area of the Labia Majora for insertion of the prosthesis. A small bleeder flooded, the assistant bent to clamp.
The testes were inserted and joined. Shaun Maclaren, unknowing snored peacefully with the rise and fall of the bag that the anaesthetist watched carefully.
"Suture."
The Professor turned his wrist and the cutting needle slid through the skin that was surprisingly tough for all it's soft appearance. The needle holder twisted expertly drawing the other end of the suture through the loops that the movement had made. The sutures knotted with a gentle pull. Another threaded needle and holder slapped against his palm.
"Swab! I want a clear field."
The doctor swabbed fast and accurately, the smear of seeping blood gone. The testicular prosthesis inserted, the wound almost closed.
"He's breathing well, pressure near normal," the anaesthetist informed the Professor, "I'm bringing him back to the first plane of anaesthesia now."
The operation was drawing to a close. The anaesthetist gave the final reading of blood pressure and respiration. He watched the heavily breathing patient, turned off the valves and logged the time on the chart.
"Take him to the observation room," the doctor said wearily, "normal post-operative procedure."
Professor Gaisford smiled reassuringly at Shaun Maclaren who was trying to see him through the fading mists of anaesthesia.
"Feel all right Shaun?"
"All right-?" came back the weak whisper of a reply. He felt sick. It was hard to remember.
"The testes --I have them?" he asked, trying to grin, "now I'm a man."
"Nurse Wainwright will be looking after you."
As the Professor left Shaun whispered his thanks and tried to smile.
There was neither night or day in the windowless room, only the cold, unfriendly glare of the fluorescent tubes. The white walls and the hiss of oxygen near a bed.
Shaun was aware of Nurse Wainwright from time to time standing beside his bed, whether day or night he had no way of knowing. The Nurse was sterile--capped and masked. When she bent over him he thought she was like a wind-blown flower, with attentive, caring blue eyes.
"Please," he whispered, "hold my hand; it will make the pain more bearable when it comes back, please help me."
Leah Wainwright held his hand. Shaun squeezed it. Seconds later he squeezed it again as if to underline the onset of a sharper, deeper pain.
Leah pressed the trigger that released a shot of pain-killing morphine into his system. Slowly his hand slid out of hers.
He tried to piece it altogether, seeking where he could , in the narrow slits of clarity, lying between great oceans of pain, hurtling back into the past, where it no longer hurt. Oceans, unbounded regions of pain, that having been experienced and endured could hurt no more. Yet they still had to be pushed away to make room for new experiences of pain that made him - were being constantly kneed in the groin.
There were two other stretchers in the room with a body on each of them. He recognised the face of the one who was turned towards him. He had seen it in the transexual wing, when he was being prepared for surgery.
Shaun reasoned that he must have been in the recovery room for a few days. He remembered one or two people walking around in dressing gowns who had opened the door and stared at him. Through the half-open door he had seen someone doing exercises under the guidance of the physiotherapist in a white coat.
He found it disturbing when he tried to fix his thoughts on peace and quietness, a form of therapy, it always turned into something else. There was, he thought no place to hide. No shield of peace or quietness. No sheltering bell of light he had found in the Convent as a child. Now there was nowhere to hide. Nowhere at all.
Shaun lay for a long time in this timeless area that was concerned only with pain. Yet he lay beyond the reality of pain. He listened to the hushed voices of the nurses, and at times their soft laughter. He remembered Lorraine, her laugh when he tried speaking Italian. He wondered if Nurse Wainwright, under that cap and mask looked anything like her.
He remembered the 'Revelation of the Lamb' The beautiful landscape. The Fountain of Life, and the towers of Jerusalem. Once more he saw Christ as King. John the Baptist and the Virgin Mary.
The sheets of pain moved as if there was something inside him pushing it out. At first in the shadowy clefts and dark places, he remembered the Outback, Macia, and the enormous Red Rock. Later they vanished to make room for the clarity of the 'Revelation.'
It was with a special clarity, he saw clearly the red-cloaked figure of Jesus wearing The Crown of Thorns. Of Mary Magdalene, clothed in a beautiful soft blue gown nursing the body of Christ. He saw the alter bearing the massive crucifix, and the ornate pulpit which still fascinated him.
This time, he was not frightened, or horrified. In all that he saw, and tried so hard to touch, he found a peaceful, contented tranquillity. In this place, within the cold and bleak, rough stone walls of the dungeon, Shaun Maclaren felt no pain. When he awoke in his hand was his postcard of the 'Ecce Homo.'
Professor Gaisford insisted that Shaun either, remain in the hospital, or reside close by for at least another month, so that his daily intake of testosterone and Pethidine could be monitored. Adding that if the wound did break down, an immediate repair could be effected.
It was Nurse Wainwright who came to the rescue. She suggested that, providing the Professor agreed he could stay at her flat, a few blocks from the hospital.
To Shaun it seemed that Leah Wainwright was taking a special interest in him. He wondered if it was the Professor's idea, or, as he hoped, that Leah genuinely cared for him.
It was Shaun's last day at the hospital. The Professor knowing he would be in safe hands signed the discharge papers. He sat up in bed in his room in the transexual wing and saw Nurse Wainwright standing at the window.
For a long time he looked at her. Out of uniform he thought she was even more attractive. She was so different from Maureen, Macia, or Lorraine. Shaun believed she had a special beauty all of her own. Her light brown hair worn, long and loose. Her legs shapely, her figure lithe and slim. The time spent in hospital had not deprived her of the golden tan he admired so much.
As she turned he saw a few freckles, like neglected pools left by a receding tide of tan that framed the blue of her exceptional eyes. He had been told that Leah Wainwright was, until her sex-reassignment a male nurse at the hospital. The surgery having been supervised by the Professor a year ago.
She had been asked by the board to continue working at the hospital, eventually becoming Professor Gaisford's Head of Nursing, and Shaun thought as she smiled at him she was a remarkable woman.
After the doctor's final examination Shaun walked slowly to the room where Leah Wainwright was waiting. She held out her hands to help him. Shaun could feel the chemistry between them, as in silence they drove to her flat.
Leah put the exhausted Shaun Maclaren to bed. His hands reached for hers. It wasn't much of a kiss, only the touch of the lips, just as his mother might have kissed him good-night. But Shaun found it more satisfying than any kiss of greater intensity.
There was the touch of her hands as she tucked in the covers. Her nearness, and the look in her eyes.