Monika: What were the pre-surgery preparations like once you were in the hospital?
Tina: Another thing that struck me was just how petite these Thai nurses really are compared to the people I see in my day-to-day life. It was 2:45 pm when a nurse brought in a container for a urine sample. After that, I felt a little tired and soon found myself dozing on the bed. Just as I was drifting off, another nurse came in five minutes later with a kidney-shaped bowl containing a razor. I couldn’t fully understand her Thai, but eventually I got the gist, she wanted to shave my lower perineum area. This would end up being the first of two times it would be done while I was in the hospital. She told me to lay back and open my legs wide, smiling because she could see I had already trimmed most of the hair. She put on latex gloves and carefully finished shaving the area very close.
Next came a bag of liquid, and she instructed me to roll over onto my tummy. After saying “1-2-3,” she slid a pipe up my lower rectum. The liquid went in easily, and the bag soon emptied. I asked what would happen next, and she said, “Stay near the bathroom.” Sure enough, moments later, I had to make my first dash to the toilet. I barely had time to remove my lower garment before emptying my bowels, accompanied by a gurgling noise. I sat there for about 15 minutes as the liquid continued to work its way out. I tried to return to my bed, but soon had to dash to the bathroom again. After a couple more trips, things began to settle down somewhat. Feeling a bit exhausted, I finally tried to lay back and rest.
Monika: What happened during the night and the early morning before your surgery?
Tina: It was 3:30 am and I was feeling pretty calm, just laying there waiting for the next surprise. At 4:30, a couple of nurses came in and told me I was changing rooms. After a short chat, they brought a shopping trolley and a wheelchair. Even though I had unpacked and settled in, they started putting my things into large white bags, loaded them onto the trolley, and told me to get into the wheelchair. So, I was moving to a new room. Thank goodness the toilet situation was under control, or there might have been a mess en route. We took the lift to another floor on the other side of the hospital, and the new room was 1010. Once inside, I unpacked again and put everything away.
Soon after, another nurse came in with a glass of some liquid. I instantly knew what it was, and she confirmed it, the dreaded SWIFT drink. She smiled and told me to drink it all. I asked how long it would take to work, and she said, “Maybe 15 minutes.” She was right, anything remaining inside me soon came out, and I felt completely void of anything in my system.
Monika: And the final moment arrived …
Tina: Wednesday, the 25th of January 2006. I was awoken from a deep sleep by two nurses saying, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” It was only 6 am, and they were there to check my pulse, blood pressure, and temperature. I must have looked startled, being woken from the sleep I desperately needed. Shortly after, a nurse came in carrying the kidney-shaped dish and razor again. My first thought was, “Omg, another shaving down below.” I stretched out and let her do it, and her lightheartedness helped take my mind off what was about to happen.
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| In The Tiger Temple in Thailand. |
Knowing I wouldn’t get much sleep afterward, I went to the bathroom to wash, brush my teeth, and freshen up. While there, I noticed two tiny red ants walking around my toiletries, they had found a way in through a tiny hole in the corner near the washbasin. I decided not to let it worry me and carried on with my morning.
By 10:50 am, a nurse and porter came to my room, loaded me into a wheelchair, and took me to the operating theatre. My mind was racing, this mammoth moment was finally happening. After negotiating several corridors, rooms, and a lift, we arrived at the theatre. I lay there, hardly daring to open my eyes. A man gently squeezed my hand and reassured me: “We are going to put a needle in your hand and also into your spine.” I nodded, took a deep gulp of air, and said, “Yes, I’m ready, go for it.”
A few seconds later, the valve on the pipe in my arm was undone, and I was in oblivion, completely gone into a world of endless sleep. My SRS had begun.
Monika: What do you remember from those first days after you woke up?
Tina: A couple of days later, my sister Paula from Dallas, Texas, was the first at my side. She had brought extra supplies for me, and although I looked rough, I reminded myself I had just been through a major operation. I lifted the bed sheets so she could see all the tubes and pipes coming out of me and asked her to stay as long as possible, which helped the time pass.
During her visit, they came in to do one of the many daily checks, blood pressure, pulse, and temperature. The equipment seemed a bit out of the ordinary, but it did its job. Honestly, if I hadn’t written notes at the time, I probably wouldn’t remember much. The first couple of days after SRS were mostly a blur, whether from the morphine or other drugs. My mind simply didn’t store those early moments.
Monika: What was it like in the days after your SRS, from the visits you had to finally leaving the hospital?
Tina: Paula had brought champagne with her, along with my SRS ring and necklace, but we decided to postpone the celebratory drink and jewelry presentation until I was in better shape. I suggested we throw a little party in our room after leaving the hospital. My next visitor wasn’t long in coming, it was my friend Claudia Kenworthy, a transsexual doctor from the USA who was there supporting Sherri, another friend having SRS the day after me, just a few rooms down the corridor.
One of the next experiences was the statutory bed bath, a wipe-down with a large bowl of water and a cloth. It freshened me up somewhat, although I wasn’t allowed out of bed, and with only liquid passing through me, it was all rather routine. Another visitor was Ruth, a lady who had undergone her SRS before me and was well into recovery. She was incredibly brave, coming from the UK to endure SRS alone, and she later helped me herself.
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| With Dr Chet and the dragon boat I gave him. |
Monika: When did you first get medical reassurance that everything had gone well?
Tina: Around 11:45 am, Dr. Chettawut came to check on me. He said my SRS had taken 7.5 hours, and apart from blood loss, there were no complications. I was relieved he didn’t have to take extra skin from my tummy. He explained that the pipes and catheter would be removed later in the week, probably Monday, which would also be my hospital discharge day.
By Saturday morning, it was 5:30 am, and the nurses were tidying up and doing stats. I was hoping to get out of bed soon. Yogurt for my meal felt like a treat after a week of liquids, which cheered me up. Later, Dr. Chettawut came and said my vaginal packing could be removed in the next day or so, but insisted I take it very easy.
Monika: What was the moment of leaving the hospital like for you?
Tina: Monday morning, 5:30 am, I dozed on and off as two nurses checked my pulse, temperature, and emptied my catheter. I was ready for some action. Dr. Chettawut, his staff, and a nurse came to remove the packing and pipes, including the catheter. The catheter removal wasn’t bad, but taking out the other tubes shot pain through me. Then came the words I’d been waiting for: lay back, take it easy, and if I could urinate, I could leave later that day.
With legs like jelly, I made my way to the bathroom and eventually managed my first urination as a female. I called Paula, who was thrilled. I packed my little case, double-checked the room, and soon Paula arrived, gave me a hug, and said, “Sis, you did it. I’m proud of you.” We waited to be collected in a wheelchair to go through the hospital to the car park. Finally, I could say goodbye to the room I had stayed in for over a week.
Monika: Did you experience any unexpected complications after your SRS recovery in Thailand?
Tina: About two days before I was due to fly home, I had quite a shock. After arriving at Dr. Chettawut’s clinic, I was told to go upstairs and change into a robe. Then I was escorted into the small surgery room at the back, helped onto the operating couch with my legs in stirrups, and given a local anesthetic. Shortly afterward, Dr. Chettawut arrived and explained he was going to remove an area of skin that had died between my vagina and anus. I was told this had likely happened because I had been too active too soon after the SRS surgery.
I lay there, feeling pretty shocked, but tried to relax and let him get on with the procedure. About 20 minutes later, it was all done. After collecting my SRS certificate, I was driven back to the Baan Siri Hotel. My main concern now was that, being so close to flying back to the UK on an 11-hour flight, I was sore and uncomfortable below.
Monika: What was the journey home like for you physically and emotionally?
Tina: The day of departure came, I saw Paula into a taxi to the airport, and finished my last-minute packing. Right on time, Dr. Chettawut’s driver collected me and took me to the airport. The flight home was long and uncomfortable, cramped in the aircraft seat and sore below, but I counted the hours down and kept myself going. After about 11 hours, we landed at Heathrow Airport, collected all my luggage, and then headed to the central bus station to catch the National Express coach back to Nottingham. Monika: How has your experience of living as a woman shaped your perspective on life, both the joys and the challenges? Tina: Being a woman is truly wonderful, at least when it’s who you really are. Finally feeling at home in both my body and my social expression has been amazing. And what’s beautiful is that the feeling only deepens as the years go by.
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| Tina with her mother. |
Monika: Was it always easy to live openly in that truth?
Tina: No, not at all. Hiding my past, trying to conceal my transsexuality, became increasingly painful over time. It left me feeling repressed, silenced, invisible, and sometimes full of self-loathing. Living in fear of being discovered takes a toll, yet being out all the time isn’t the answer either, that would be exhausting and potentially dangerous. Somewhere in between is a balance: honoring the truth of my life while still keeping myself safe and accepted.
Social limitations are part of life for everyone, but as a transgender woman, I’ve learned to pick my battles. Some injustices can be challenged, while others have to be endured until the time is right. And there’s a sadness that never fully goes away, the loss of a childhood I never really had, the inability to birth a child or experience what society calls a “normal” life. That shadow follows me, but it doesn’t define me.
Monika: What has this experience ultimately given you?
Tina: The wisdom I’ve gained from this journey is invaluable. It’s given me insight, awareness, and appreciation for things that many people take for granted. Even sixteen years post-operative, I know transition is never really “over,” because life itself is a constant process of change.
When I look back, I have no regrets about the things I could realistically control. My only regrets are about the things beyond my reach, time, circumstances of my birth, and the societal bigotry I faced. But I am so grateful to live in an era where hormones and surgery were possible, where I could become the woman I am today. Sixteen years later, I am profoundly grateful for my transition. Every year that passes reinforces that it was worth every price I paid, and then some.
Monika: One of the most powerful things you’ve written is your belief that you didn’t become a woman, you simply revealed who you always were. Can you talk about that revelation and what it truly meant for you?
Tina: For me, this was never about becoming something new. I was born a woman, I was just labeled male because of the wrong physical appendage. I spent decades trying to live with that mismatch, trying to force myself into a role that never fit. Eventually, I fixed what was wrong. People call that transitioning, but I don’t see it that way. I didn’t become a woman, I always was one.
Monika: So what was it that actually changed?
Tina: What changed was my willingness to accept that truth. It was a revelation, one that took me a long time to embrace. Once I finally accepted it and shared it with friends and family, they were the ones who had to transition their view of me. In that sense, revelation is what transgender people do; transitioning is what the world around us does in response. People often misunderstand sex and gender. They think it’s about what you see on the outside, but sex is dominated by the brain. Aligning my body with who I already was inside wasn’t cosmetic, it was life-saving. Bringing those two parts into harmony is, without exaggeration, probably what saved my life.
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| "My journey lasted many years, and it was a roller coaster." |
Monika: Did you realize at the time just how big that journey would be?
Tina: My journey lasted many years, and it was a roller coaster, difficult, exhausting, magical, and transformative in ways only someone who’s lived it can truly understand. When I started, I didn’t know where it would lead. I only hoped it would give me the life I had always wanted and allow the person trapped inside to finally exist in the world.
Life after transition? Quite simply, great. That doesn’t mean perfect, but authentic. People outside the trans experience often struggle to understand just how immense this process is. No one would ever choose this unless they were driven by an overwhelming inner need. I followed specific steps, yes, but it never felt like a real choice. It felt necessary.
Monika: Looking back now, how do you understand that necessity?
Tina: There was a time when the only alternative I could see was not continuing at all. I don’t say that lightly. Transition wasn’t about convenience or preference, it was about survival. Today, I don’t need to think that way anymore. My life as a trans woman works. I cannot go back to living as a man any more than I can stop breathing. This is how I stay alive. Truly, it is.
And if my story helps even one person realize that change is possible, that they can chase their own dreams, then everything I went through was worth it. As I like to say, how does one become a butterfly? You must want to fly so badly that you’re willing to give up being a caterpillar.
END OF PART 4
All photos: courtesy of Tina Marie Phillips.
© 2025 - Monika Kowalska
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