Dying for Acceptance

"What did you find, Paul?"

"The good news is there's no brain damage and none of his injuries are permanent, but he does have two cracked ribs and a broken nose. The septum was deviated and you're going to have take care of that, Dave."

"What about the eye? Any damage to the bones or the eye itself?"

"No, just the black and blue with the swelling. Look Dave, I'm really sorry about this. If I can help in any way, just let know, okay?"

"Thanks, Paul. I will."

"Oh...I heard the police arrested Grady Sikes."

"Yeah, well jail is exactly where that punk SOB should be," he said bitterly.

David Jamison was a well-respected cosmetic surgeon in the greater Seattle area and his brother, Paul, was an internist who'd been the head of his department for many years at Seattle General. He was the attending for David's son, Eric, who had been badly beaten the night before at an-end-of-the-school-year party.

He didn't know all of the details, but Dave had a pretty good idea what had happened and why. He'd been dealing with this issue for years and it finally came to a head last night and cost his son dearly. Had they not pulled the Sikes boy off of him.... Jamison shuddered to think what might have happened.

"Honey? Paul says we can see him now," his wife Cassandra told him.

They walked into the room and saw their son laying there. His face was black and blue and his small frame looked so fragile and helpless. He was awake and even with the morphine drip, in a lot of pain.

"Hi, honey!" his mom said.

Eric slowly turned his head and tried to focus using his one open eye. "Oh, hey Mom." He didn't acknowledge his dad and that didn't surprise anyone.

"Can we get you anything?" she asked as she stood next to him trying not to cry.

"No. I'm good," he said through his puffy, swollen lips.

She took his small hand in hers and asked him, "Do you want to talk about it?"

Eric looked away and said quietly, "Why? What good would that do? It won't change anything."

"I'm going to have to surgically repair your nose, Eric," his dad said clinically. "The blow you took to it deviated your septum and unless we fix it, you'll have breathing difficulties. I'll take care of it as soon as your Uncle Paul says it's safe to operate."

"Whatever," Eric said.

David Jamison stood next to his wife and said, "Eric? What the hell did you expect would happen? What you were thinking?"

"Yeah, you're right, Dad. I deserved this."

His father blanched at the snide remark and said, "We've been over this a thousand times. You brought this on yourself, Eric. You can't...do that kind of thing and not expect people to react to it."

Still not looking at them Eric said, "So being different is a crime? Oh, okay. Now I get it."

"Honey, what your father means is most people aren't open-minded about this kind of thing. It's...confusing to them. It makes them feel uncomfortable."

"And being uncomfortable gives them the right to beat the crap out of me?" he said flatly.

His father spoke. "No, of course it doesn't, Eric, and Grady Sikes is in jail where he belongs. He's being charged as an adult and I can assure he won't be graduating with your class next year. He'll be in prison where he belongs. But this has got to stop."

"Or what?" Eric asked.

"Or things could get even worse," his father told him.

"Then I don't want to get better," he said without emotion.

"Don't talk that way, Eric!" he mother said, sick with worry. "We'll get through this...together. But you have to get well first."

"So that....what? I can beat the shit beat out of me again?"

His father was getting angry the way this topic always made him upset. "Jesus, Eric! You know why this happened. And your solution is to make it worse? To take this...this thing of yours to a whole new level? That's your solution? Get real, son. I let you grow your hair long and get your ears pierced and that was bad enough. But...this?"

"I get beat up because I'm living in no-man's land, Dad. I have one foot in both worlds, but if I was living in just one, things would change and I can't live in the one you want me to live in. Things would be better if you'd help me live in the other one."

"No. They wouldn't be better. They'd be worse and you know it," his father said almost angrily. "You've got to get this whole idea out of your head and pull your foot out of that other...life once and for all."

"Wow. You're a doctor and yet you sound like someone from 50 years ago who thinks this is just some phase I'm going through. Talk about ignorant."

His dad was balling his hands up into fists as the anger welled up inside him the way it always did whenever this topic came up. "I'm done," he told his wife. "See if you can talk some sense into your son." With that, he strode out of the room and headed off to his own practice in upscale Bellevue.

"Why does Dad hate me?" Eric asked his mom.

"He doesn't hate you, sweetie. He just doesn't understand you. That's all."

He turned toward his mother and asked, "Do you? Do you understand me?"

"You need to get some rest, honey. I'm gonna go back home for a while then I'll come back and see you again, okay?" she said sympathetically patting his hand.

"Yeah, sure. See you later then," he said turning back away.

His mother kissed him on the forehead then walked out. As she left, she nearly bumped into Trent Callum, Eric's best friend up through the sixth grade. "Oh, hi there, Trent!" she said cheerfully. "Eric will be so glad to see you."

"I'm not so sure about that, Mrs. Jamison. Is he okay?"

She explained his injuries and told him about Grady's arrest. He just nodded and thanked her before walking into Eric's room.

"Hey," he said when Eric saw him.

"What are you doing here?" Eric asked.

"I wanted to see if you're okay," he told him.

"I'm alive," Eric replied.

"I'm really sorry, man," Eric said with his head down.

"Why? You didn't hit me."

"No, but I just...stood there and didn't try and stop him."

"Yeah, that might have cost the best-looking, most popular kid in school some points," Eric said sarcastically.

"Look man. I said I'm sorry. But you gotta know what doing that kind of thing does to guys like Grady."

"Well, now I do," Eric told him. "And so do you. Look, you made your decision in 7th grade. We're not friends anymore. At least not since you...."

"Shut up! Don't talk about that. Ever! You hear me?" Trent looked around then lowered his voice. "It was just that one time and it was all so...confusing with you dressed like that."

"You weren't confused," Eric told him. "You liked what you saw and you acted on it."

"That's bullshit!" Trent hissed. "You practically begged me to."

"That's not how I remember it. I was just sitting there and you leaned over and...."

"Goddamn you! You fucking asshole! I only did that because you looked exactly like...."

"Like a pretty girl?" he said finishing Trent's sentence.

"Fuck you! I didn't make you put on that dress and makeup. You're fucking sick!"

"Then why did you tell me I was pretty when you did it? Was I? Was I really pretty?"

"Jesus Christ! I'm fucking out of here. That's why we can't be friends, man. This shit has you totally fucked up! I just came by to check on you and then you bring this shit up. I'm done with this. I'm done with you!"

The room was silent except for the beeping of the monitor standing next to him. Eric slowly pulled the top sheet off of himself and wrapped around his neck and pulled it as tight as he could before tying off the end and cinching it as hard as he could. He knew it might not work, but he was so desperate, he didn't care. As his breathing slowed to a dangerous point, an alarm went off summoning the on-call nurse.

As she ran into his room she saw him and said, "Oh, my God." She ran over to him and quickly undid the knot and loosened it. Eric involuntarily gasped for air and in a few seconds the purple color in his face quickly faded.

As he opened his eyes be began to cry while he sadly moaned, "I'm still alive?"

Just an hour later his parents, his Uncle Paul, and the hospital's chief of psychiatry were all assembled in a conference room. "This is clearly a cry for help, David," the psychiatrist told him. "This kind of thing...this kind of desire...doesn't go away. Eric has an obvious case of gender dysmorphia and the only thing that's going to provide any relief is to accept him for who he is."

"Well who the hell is he?" his father snorted. "Is he a boy or girl?"

"It's not always that cut and dried, David. Sometimes gender dysphoria manifests itself in a milder form where the patient doesn't necessarily want to change genders but rather wishes to live in the opposite sex's role. I'm afraid that once this is set in someone's mind, it persists for life."

"So he's just some freakish crossdresser?" he bellowed. "I'm supposed to give up on having a son and let him go to school and live like...that? Like some kind of freak caught between two worlds?" That's when he recalled Eric's comment about one foot in both worlds. The man in him couldn't accept that, but the doctor in him was finally speaking up and making his presence known. What if there was no other alternative? What if Eric's mind was so firmly in the female camp he no longer wanted to live as a traditional male? But why then would he not want to follow through surgically and become a female? As hard as it might be to accept, the psychiatrist had just given him the answer. It was his unwillingness to accept it that might be the real problem.

"David? Did you hear me?" the psychiatrist said.

"I'm sorry, doctor. I was doing some thinking. I apologize. What did you say?"

"I said the answer may very well be 'yes' to your question. You may indeed need to embrace your son's desires and let him express himself as he feels he must. Either that or you run the very real risk of the next attempt being successful."

Cassandra gasped, "Next attempt? Oh, my God!!! No! There can't be a next attempt. David? I've supported you through this for years, but I will not lose my son over this."

He turned to his wife and said, "Honey? Either way we've lost our son. We either accept him as our..." He almost choked saying the word, but it finally did come out. "Daughter or...well, I guess there isn't an 'or.'"

Cassandra shook her head violently. "No, no, NO! I don't care what it takes or what we have to do. I will not bury my child, David. I will not!"

The psychiatrist said, "I want to examine Eric. I know he's seen therapists before, but I want to do a full work up and find out exactly where he is. I can do most of that in one session and that will give us a baseline from which to work. And I suggest we do that this week—tomorrow if possible."

"Yes, absolutely!" his mother said before Dr. Jamison could speak. "Whatever you need to do, do it."

The following afternoon they met again and the psychiatrist explained his findings. "Eric does indeed have a moderately strong case of gender dysphoria. As I suspected, he doesn't present as a transsexual, although that may be possible at some point down the line. For now, he sees himself as a girl in terms of how he dresses, acts, and relates to others. He therefore wishes to present to the rest of the world as a female and although he isn't interested in taking female hormones at this point, he has expressed a desire to suppress any further effects of testosterone on his still-developing body."

"What effects?" his father interjected. "He just turned 18 and he doesn't even shave. He's by far the smallest kid in his entire high school and with his hair as long as it and his facial features, I don't see any masculinizing effects."

"Even so, he wants to be put on a regimen of spironolactone to block the effects of testosterone. As a legal adult, he doesn't need your permission. Paying for it however, is an entirely different matter."

"We'll take care of that," Cassandra said. "In fact, we'll take care of everything from here on out, doctor. Thank you so much for your help."

She turned to her husband and said, "David, you and I need to talk."

The next day, both of them went to see their son. "Your Uncle Paul says your well enough now for me to repair your deviated septum." He stood there silently for a while noting that Eric didn't respond. "I was thinking maybe...you know, while I'm doing this we could um...reshape your nose a little bit to give it the kind of appearance you'd like it to have."

Eric turned over and stared at his dad. "Are you serious?"

Dr. Jamison took his wife's hand and said, "Yes, I am. Eric, your mother spent most of the day yesterday discussing this whole...issue...and we've made some decisions."

Eric tried to sit up but his ribs were still very sore. "You have? What kind of decisions?"

His parents spent the better part of the next hour explaining the results of his psychiatric evaluation, the effects of his suicide attempt, and how much they loved him. "I know I haven't always shown that, Eric," his dad said, "but I've never stopped loving you. I just...I just wanted a son who wanted to be...you know, a man's man." He looked his son in the eye and said, "Now I just want my son—my child—to be happy. Even if that means saying goodbye to him as my son."

For the first time in as long as either of them could remember, Eric smiled at his father and said, "Thank you for understanding. I love you too, Dad."

His father bent down and hugged his son and told him, "I'll do my best to adjust to all the changes, but please be patient with me, okay? Can you promise me you'll do that?"

Eric nodded as tears fell from eyes. "Of course I will," he told him. "I just can't believe this is happening. It feels like I just woke up from a terrible nightmare then fell back asleep in the most beautiful dream ever."

"At least now I understand why you were wearing a bra under your shirt when...this happened to you. From now on, you won't have to hide who you are and we're all hoping that having both feet in one world will make the world able to accept you for who you are."

The following morning, Dave Jamison repaired the deviated septum and reshaped his son's nose to give it a very feminine appearance. For the first time in his life, he was able to look at Eric's face and not only note his features were feminine, but admit that he really did look very much like a girl already. Other than his nose, which wasn't really that big for a boy's to begin with, there was nothing about his son's face that looked masculine in any way. From the long, dark hair to the naturally long, thick eyelashes to the high cheekbones to the soft, full lips to the teeth made perfect by braces, he really did have a very female-looking face. And at just under 5 '7" inches and 115 pounds, he had a very slight, very slender build making him look even more feminine.

Eric had also asked his father to shave his trachea so that he would no longer have any hint of an Adam's apple and he'd willingly agreed . He knew that even if his son were to ever want to live in a male role again, not having an Adam's apple wouldn't matter while having one while living as a female would be a major issue.

But the most remarkable and as far as David Jamison was concerned, the most difficult to accept, were the breast implants. Eric told his parents he would rather die than spend one more day living a life he hated. He said he had no desire to have gender reassignment surgery, but he wanted breasts as much as he wanted anything else. After another long discussion with Cassandra, Dr. Jamison gave in. After sewing up the incision where he'd inserted a full C saline breast form on each side of his son's chest, the procedure was finished. With that done, Eric was wheeled into recovery where his mother would be waiting for him to wake up.

An hour later, he opened his eyes and Cassandra was right there to take his hand. "Shhh! Don't try to talk," she told him. "Everything went great. I don't want to show you your face until the swelling goes down, but you're going to be so beautiful when all goes down."

She reached into her purse and got out of pen and a small pad. She held the pad in front of him and handed him the pen. "I forgot to ask you something, sweetheart. What do you want us to call you from now on?"

He tried to smile as he weakly raised his frail arm and very shakily wrote: E-R-I-K-A.

"Erika with a 'k'? Oh, that's a very pretty name and it's close to your old name. Okay. Erika it is."

Still somewhat disoriented, she managed to find the edge of the sheet laying over her body. She slowly lifted it up and looked down. When she saw the two large mounds on her chest, she let go of the sheet and began to cry.

His mother stood up and hugged her. "Everything is done, sweetheart. You have the body you want now. Shhh. It's okay. It's okay."

After another 24 hours of recovery time, Eric Jamison, the name on his paperwork, was discharged and allowed to go home even though it was Erika Jamison his mother took home.

When they got to her bedroom her mother said, "I bought you a few things, honey. Just to kind of get us started. We can go buy whatever you like when you're better, but we wanted to show our support from the minute you came home. We can also redecorate your room, if you'd like. Maybe paint it pink? Oh, and Erika, honey? Don't ever be embarrassed as you learn how to be a girl. It's going to take time and practice and patience on everyone's part. You're going to make mistakes and that's okay. Just keep trying and we'll get there."

She took a deep breath then opened the door for new daughter. "So are you ready to get started?"

Laying on the bed were several bags from various stores like Macys, Nordstroms, The Gap, and The Limited.

"I don't know what your preferred style is, so I just got a little of this and a little of that until we can go together and get you all new things for your senior year." Eric had been held back in first grade as he'd been not only physically much smaller but socially and mentally not quite ready to move on with his peers who had just graduated. So he'd turned 18 during his junior year but was still the smallest student in his class and quite possibly the smallest boy in the entire school.

"Oh, Mom! I love them!" Erika quickly looked through the bags and loved what she saw.

"So they're okay?" her mother asked with concern.

"Everything is perfect! Thank you so much! What should I wear first?" she asked with genuine excitement.

"Well that's up to you, honey. You're just going to be sitting around home recovering for another week while the swelling goes down in your nose and your ribs and breast incisions continue to heal. So I'd suggest something loose and comfortable, but you can wear anything you like. But first, you need to go take a real shower and shampoo and blow dry your pretty hair so I can help you style it." She walked toward her daughter and put her arms on her shoulders as she said, "Honey? I just wanted you to know I've wanted this for you for a very long time. It just took your father a lot longer to come around. Please don't blame him, okay?" Erika nodded as her eyes lit up and she smiled the happiest smile she could muster.

"And I'll show you how to do your nails, too, okay?" Her mom hugged her new daughter and said, "We are going to have SO much fun together doing all of the girl things we could never do before."

"Thank you so much, Momma. And Daddy, too. I love you both so much!"

"We love you too...Erika. But this isn't always going to be easy. You understand that, right? Jerks don't stop being jerks overnight. So just be prepared for the worst while hoping for the best, okay?"

"The worst would be having to spend one more day as Eric so no matter what happens, it can't be worse than that because...well, you know why."