SRS of a friend...

Ohhhhh emmmm geeeeeeee!!!!
I woke up. I looked around. It was this teenager on her cell phone, probably texting. I stared at her for startling me up from my nap. She mouthed the words, “ I’m sorry”. I gave a forgiving smile. Now I can’t go back to sleep. This train ride would end in 20 minutes and I’ll be sleeping on my bed soon. Ahhhh my bed,  I miss it the most. Hotel beds don’t even come close to the comfort my bed brings.
So to kill time, I’ll write something for my blog, which again I have forgotten  to update. I was, the same excuse, very busy. Which seem to be my only excuse when I call overseas to talk to my family. or to visit my friends or even to go see a movie.
I was in Montreal for a few days to give support to a friend who went through SRS. To the common man, that would be Sex Reassignment Surgery. It has been her dream to finally be the woman she always wanted to be. To be free of the restraints and obstacles that her secret has kept her. To be able to wear those skimpy thongs without hardship, or plasters. And on her own words, to stare at her naked reflection without freakiness.
The process for her was a journey in itself. I know for I was there. From her psychological evaluation to her physical examination, I was the friend she can count and rely on. The excitement in her eyes were undescribable. There was  a hint of nervousness and anxiety, happiness and relief.
The day of the surgery came and she was crying. Naked under her hospital gown, on a wheel chair. I said to her, “This is it. This is the moment. There is no turning back.” She just gave me a reassuring nod. That this is what she really wanted. I wiped her tears with my thumb. She grabbed my hand,  gently closed her eyes and said thank you. I held back with my tears. This is not my moment. The nurses finally wheeled her in and the doors closed in between us. I sat there on the bench and waited for her. What seemed to be hours dwindled down to minutes. Before I kew it, I was staring at my friend, still asleep from the anesthesia. All bandaged from the waist down. The inevitable smile is etched on her pretty face though. I hope that smile will hold after the anesthesia wears down.
She went through the surgery well.  She can hold the pain with grace. But not my arm, when she buries her nails there when  I help her up to use the washroom. The stitches are still fresh, but she showed me the molds that she has to use to keep her new pussy open. They are like dildos.
I stayed there for a few more days until her sister came and she can recover in a hotel room.
My thoughts on SRS and would I do it? I’ll let you guys know soon. My train is coming to a complete halt now. And  all I’m thinking right now, is my bed.
J