kwester
03-02-04, 12:59 PM
Hello BLO folk
My name is Mark. I was born in 1952, to an unmarried college student, and put up for adoption. My adoptive parents were told that something was different with me, but they decided they wanted me anyway.
I am intersexed, born with a uterus, one ovary, one testicle (undescended, atrophied), and a small penis. It is unclear whether I had any trace of a vagina. My parents (adoptive, but I considered them “real”) were convinced by the doctors that I should have corrective surgery. I had, as a toddler, several surgical procedures, first exploratory in nature, then for reasons I’m certain you all know, what amounted to a hysterectomy. This was followed by a hypospadius repair, full-length in nature.
Before puberty, I had testosterone therapy. One side effect was that my skeleton stopped growing, and I never passed 5’2” in height. A major side effect of the hypospadius surgery still persists: They created a urethral extension by folding the skin under my penis to form a tube to the head. This worked fine until puberty, when I developed pubic hair – on the inside of my penis! This caused chronic bladder and later kidney infections, eight surgical procedures over five years for hair removal, all of which cascaded to kidney stones which required more surgery, which I have still to deal with.
Other complications followed.
After college, I avoided doctors as much as possible. When I was 47, I had to have a kidney stone removed, and was told that I had a low testosterone count, and that I should have been having hormone therapy for all those years. I was also told that I had type 2 diabetes, which was a shock. Side effects of low testosterone levels include high body fat and low muscle mass. This contributes to high blood sugar, which causes diabetes. The diabetes leaves the sugar in the urine, which feeds the kidney infection bacteria with all the food they could want. This causes more kidney stones.
So much for the medical side. The emotional side has been even more interesting. Soon after puberty, as I realized that I was not getting any taller, I started to feel that I was different. This was heightened between phases 1 and 2 of the above-mentioned hair removal. This involved opening the tissue on the underside of the penis to get at the enclosed hair follicles, using electrolysis on all visible traces, and leaving a urethral opening at the base, above the scrotum. I was unable to use the urinals at school during these months, as I had to sit to urinate. I had to be very careful who was around. After phase two, when the urethra was re-sutured, I could again use the urinals.
As a result of low testosterone levels, I didn’t go through the hormone surges common to adolescents. I was reserved, a loner, shy, and never felt that I could look others straight in the eye. I avoided conflict by shying away from it. I also had almost no libido. Sex didn’t interest me, other than as an adjunct to the observed activities of the people around me, the “normal” ones.
My family was a fountain of denial. We rarely hugged, and almost never kissed. Physical contact was best reserved for the bedroom. My situation was mentioned only when it came time to go back to the hospital for another surgery. I’m certain they cared greatly for me, but the subject was never brought to the surface, as that was just not “nice.”
I made a career that allowed me to be alone. I worked in a one-man computer programming shop, in a basement office with no windows. I spent time at home, in front of the tv, watching others have a life.
After I started the hormone therapy several years ago, I had an interesting reaction. I got horny. My reptilian brain was activated, and I felt like I was going through the adolescent libido craze. All I could think of was sex, and that was really frustrating. I had never dated, I had no experience in matters of intimate expression. I had no confidence that I could actually be a functioning sex partner.
I went on a journey of exploration to Nevada, to see if I could road-test my body’s components at a legal bordello. It worked, within limits. I could get an erection, and a dry orgasm. I was very grateful to the professional sex worker, as her attitude was supportive and friendly. I had dreaded the thought of her laughing at me, saying “what is that tiny little thing?”
Once home, I started another quest. Could I find a partner who was compassionate enough to make a life with someone of my age, with my “differentness” and with virtually no experience? Could I even generate the confidence necessary to make overtures in that direction? So far, the answer to those questions is no.
That is one of the reasons that I am grateful to have found this group. Just reading a few of the posts has made me realize that I can be OK, and that there are many others like me. I have felt so alone, so much apart from the rest of humanity, that I indeed had suicidal thoughts. I felt that not only was I not a human, but that I wasn’t even a biological entity, because I could not reproduce. Now I see that there is hope. Others have been through it, and made it to the other side.
Thank You all for reading my rambling. I know I have much work to do. But now, I think I have at least a partial handle on it.
kwester
My name is Mark. I was born in 1952, to an unmarried college student, and put up for adoption. My adoptive parents were told that something was different with me, but they decided they wanted me anyway.
I am intersexed, born with a uterus, one ovary, one testicle (undescended, atrophied), and a small penis. It is unclear whether I had any trace of a vagina. My parents (adoptive, but I considered them “real”) were convinced by the doctors that I should have corrective surgery. I had, as a toddler, several surgical procedures, first exploratory in nature, then for reasons I’m certain you all know, what amounted to a hysterectomy. This was followed by a hypospadius repair, full-length in nature.
Before puberty, I had testosterone therapy. One side effect was that my skeleton stopped growing, and I never passed 5’2” in height. A major side effect of the hypospadius surgery still persists: They created a urethral extension by folding the skin under my penis to form a tube to the head. This worked fine until puberty, when I developed pubic hair – on the inside of my penis! This caused chronic bladder and later kidney infections, eight surgical procedures over five years for hair removal, all of which cascaded to kidney stones which required more surgery, which I have still to deal with.
Other complications followed.
After college, I avoided doctors as much as possible. When I was 47, I had to have a kidney stone removed, and was told that I had a low testosterone count, and that I should have been having hormone therapy for all those years. I was also told that I had type 2 diabetes, which was a shock. Side effects of low testosterone levels include high body fat and low muscle mass. This contributes to high blood sugar, which causes diabetes. The diabetes leaves the sugar in the urine, which feeds the kidney infection bacteria with all the food they could want. This causes more kidney stones.
So much for the medical side. The emotional side has been even more interesting. Soon after puberty, as I realized that I was not getting any taller, I started to feel that I was different. This was heightened between phases 1 and 2 of the above-mentioned hair removal. This involved opening the tissue on the underside of the penis to get at the enclosed hair follicles, using electrolysis on all visible traces, and leaving a urethral opening at the base, above the scrotum. I was unable to use the urinals at school during these months, as I had to sit to urinate. I had to be very careful who was around. After phase two, when the urethra was re-sutured, I could again use the urinals.
As a result of low testosterone levels, I didn’t go through the hormone surges common to adolescents. I was reserved, a loner, shy, and never felt that I could look others straight in the eye. I avoided conflict by shying away from it. I also had almost no libido. Sex didn’t interest me, other than as an adjunct to the observed activities of the people around me, the “normal” ones.
My family was a fountain of denial. We rarely hugged, and almost never kissed. Physical contact was best reserved for the bedroom. My situation was mentioned only when it came time to go back to the hospital for another surgery. I’m certain they cared greatly for me, but the subject was never brought to the surface, as that was just not “nice.”
I made a career that allowed me to be alone. I worked in a one-man computer programming shop, in a basement office with no windows. I spent time at home, in front of the tv, watching others have a life.
After I started the hormone therapy several years ago, I had an interesting reaction. I got horny. My reptilian brain was activated, and I felt like I was going through the adolescent libido craze. All I could think of was sex, and that was really frustrating. I had never dated, I had no experience in matters of intimate expression. I had no confidence that I could actually be a functioning sex partner.
I went on a journey of exploration to Nevada, to see if I could road-test my body’s components at a legal bordello. It worked, within limits. I could get an erection, and a dry orgasm. I was very grateful to the professional sex worker, as her attitude was supportive and friendly. I had dreaded the thought of her laughing at me, saying “what is that tiny little thing?”
Once home, I started another quest. Could I find a partner who was compassionate enough to make a life with someone of my age, with my “differentness” and with virtually no experience? Could I even generate the confidence necessary to make overtures in that direction? So far, the answer to those questions is no.
That is one of the reasons that I am grateful to have found this group. Just reading a few of the posts has made me realize that I can be OK, and that there are many others like me. I have felt so alone, so much apart from the rest of humanity, that I indeed had suicidal thoughts. I felt that not only was I not a human, but that I wasn’t even a biological entity, because I could not reproduce. Now I see that there is hope. Others have been through it, and made it to the other side.
Thank You all for reading my rambling. I know I have much work to do. But now, I think I have at least a partial handle on it.
kwester