New life

My stories so far have been about choices, never forced situations, as consent is very important to me. A question was put to me 'what if circumstances made that decision for you?' It made me think. This story considers that situation. Some will argue that there are always choices. This isn't a medical journal or a scientific paper so please forgive me if there are technical errors. This is fiction. Luv Chloe.

No immediate sex. This includes themes of transgender, intersex and surgery. Everyone is over 18 years old.

New life

Consciousness detected. I think therefore I am. I felt disembodied, without physical form: a corporeal ethereal spirit. Inputs not recognised. Outputs not recognised. What were those thoughts? What about my senses?

Smell- recovery in process

Audio -- off line

Touch -- unavailable

Taste -- nothing detected

Vision- error

I think reflecting afterwards somehow my logical basic brain was trying to determine what had happened, to make sense of things. Where was I? What was I: a computer, Artificial Intelligence, robot? What had happened? How long had I been here?

It was dark- not night dark- there were no streetlights, no moon, no stars: it was the complete absence of all light. Maybe I was underground. Entombed? Were my eyes open or closed? Did I have eyes? I was disorientated- which way was up? There were so many questions- with so few answers.

Memory recovery in process: a thousand images flashed through my mind. Was I dying? Was this my end? The last thing I recalled was driving my car in the torrential rain- great British weather. It was late afternoon or may be early evening, it was Winter, February with a sky that was dark and ominous: titanic clouds fought each other and as they crashed together they sparked epic flashes of lightning. And then? Nothing! It was as if the film had just run out.

Smell restored- I could smell disinfectant or antiseptic. Was I in a hospital? Was I being born? Were the thoughts and memories from my previous life? Was this reincarnation?

Audio restored. I heard a loud pronounced beeping that was an echo of my heart beat. There were other sounds- a gentle hiss and an electric hum. Was I a machine? I heard a female voice- it increased in volume moving closer.

"Good morning, how are we today?" she asked.

"I'm okay, but no change here," replied a man's voice to my left.

Hearing things around me was better than nothing, but I wished I could see where I was, what was happening. I was disoriented. May be the universe heard me because the darkness brightened slowly like a sunrise. I felt a warm wet cloth wash my face. I think my senses were slowly recovering.

"I can see some rapid eye movement, let me call the doctor," reported the voice.

I heard movement, as if anticipating the doctor I opened my eyes. I blinked- everything seemed very bright.

"Well hello, welcome back," greeted an Asian female doctor.

She had silky shiny black hair, the darkest eyes with an amazing smile. She was beautiful- the face of an angel. A light was shined in my eyes. I flinched at the brightness. I could move my eyes, but not my body. I tried to speak, but no sound came out. Where had I been and where had I come back to?

"Don't try to speak. Can you blink to confirm you can hear me?"

I consciously blinked- I held it for a second and then reopened my eyes.

"Great, so let's try one blink for yes and two for no. Are you in any pain?"

Two blinks. I felt strangely disconnected from my body. A man's face came into view.

"Hey you, it's good to see you awake, Spud."

Spud? Somewhere in my mind I located the image and the reference. Dad! Only Dad called me Spud. Why couldn't I talk? I was pleased that my senses had returned. I could hear voices in the corridor. The beeping came from behind me. I could see square tiles in the ceiling. The nurse beside me had a lovely perfume, but I didn't recognise it. I had so many questions, but couldn't communicate- I was frustrated. I realised I was thirsty and hungry. I willed my fingers to move, but nothing happened. Would I be trapped like this forever? What had happened to me? Did I even have arms and legs?

"I've called your Mum, she'll be here soon," shared Dad.

One sided conversations would soon drive me crazy. The nurse tipped a little water against my lips, just enough to wet my mouth and to swallow. It tasted metallic, chemical, but was as a fine wine to my palette. Clearly I was nearly horizontal in a bed with a limited view. I closed my eyes briefly to rest them from the bright lights. I think I drifted into sleep.

I awoke to the same ceiling, the same bright lights, the same sounds and smell, well almost; there was a new perfume, it was familiar: it was Mum.

"Mmmmm," I managed.

My tongue felt strange in my mouth. A smiling face came into view to my right- Mum!

"Hi, how do you feel?" she asked touching my face.

"Yuck," I managed followed with a roll of my eyes.

"What can I do?"

"Water," I managed to whisper.

I had managed two whole words and it felt like I had crawled up a mountain. The same nurse from earlier helped me with a cup offering me a straw. I closed my eyes, talking a sip and swallowing. The small cup was quickly empty.

"More... please," I managed to gasp.

"Take it slow, your body will need to adjust," counselled the nurse.

"Okay," I managed.

My body was still not responding to my will.

"Am... I... broken?" I asked.

My speech was slow, laboured and difficult.

"Spud, you had a bad car accident. Do you remember anything?" asked my Dad entering my vision to my left.

"Nothing of the accident. Can't move. Arms and legs?"

"You had a lot of injuries, your arms and legs are okay," reported Mum

"How long here?"

"Nearly eight months. You were in a coma," explained Dad.

"It will take some time for your body to recover from the trauma. I know it's hard, but try and rest. Your body will recover," advised the nurse.

I think I slipped into sleep shortly after. I awoke after an undefined time to dimmed lights. I found I could move my head slightly. I lifted my left hand flexing my fingers. Progress! I discovered a series of tubes and wires. I am not a borg: I laughed in my head, I was thinking of several Star Trek episodes involving humans with cybernetic enhancements. I touched my face worried at what I would find. I found smooth soft skin, but couldn't locate any injuries or scars. My right hand and arm seemed stiff and heavy in comparison. I guessed that many of the injuries had healed in the weeks and months following the accident. I had been blissfully unaware of my brush with death.

The next morning the regular nurse visited me.

"Thank you looking after me," I said slowly.

My speech was better, but didn't sound quite right to me. My inner voice always sounded cheerful to me, the sound I heard was less melodic and yet the pitch seemed higher.

"It's so good to see you awake. What can I do for you? A quick wash?"

"Please... and please tell me your name?"

"I'm Teresa," she replied with a smile quickly wiping my face and neck.

"I'm Julian. At least my mind is still working. It takes effort to talk," I admitted speaking much slower than normal.

"Small steps," she said patting my hand.

Teresa was approximately five foot seven, curvy with blonde hair tied in a bun. She had lovely blue grey eyes. I looked forward to seeing her, talking helped pass the time. Her royal blue uniform looked very good on her curvy body. I stole glances at her black hosed legs. I wondered what her lips would taste like. She had a unique perfume, which I would catch when she was close- it wasn't one single smell- it was the combination of: soap, shampoo, the hospital and something I couldn't quantify. I tethered my thoughts- there was no way she would be interested in me- I was a patient and I was far from being datable material. I didn't think of myself as broken, but I had to focus on one thing at a time. I needed to be able to be self-sufficient.

My physiotherapist came to assess me. George was a giant of a man. He was African, I loved his accent and he had the best smile in the world. My left hand and arm responded quite well, but my right arm and lower body remained obstinate. He had exercised my body each day while in the coma.

"Much of the trauma you had is to your right side. Your lower body, both legs and right arm were in casts for a while. I understand that side of your car was the main point of impact. There was just a small shield of metal between you and everything that crashed into your car. The truck clipped you and you were spun around," explained George.

"A truck?" I asked still not aware of the details of my accident.

"As I understand it from what I saw on the news- an articulated lorry carrying a giant digger lost control in the wet conditions, it lost control, jack-knifed and hit your car, the vehicles behind had no way of avoiding you. It took several hours to cut you free."

"Anyone else hurt?" I asked.

"Don't worry about that for now."

"Please tell me."

"Just remember none of what happened was your fault. It was a busy night at the hospital- there were thirty-six casualties and four fatalities. Focus on the now and yourself - get well. You're making good progress. I'll see you tomorrow. I'm so happy to see you awake."

I still had no recollection of the incident. My bed had been tilted so I could see around me. I could see my arms and legs. I exercised my right hand and arm squeezing a small red ball. I caught up on events from the many weeks thanks to TV news reports. So much had happened, but so much had stayed the same. I had missed the entire Spring and Summer. The Prime minister had changed twice, the Queen had died and we had a new King. There were reports from around the world: wars, famines and environmental disasters. My parents visited in the early evening. They were accompanied by three doctors and a lady in a business suit. She introduced herself as a counsellor.

"Julian, we need to talk to you," explained my Dad who was very anxious.

Now I was at least awake I had thought people would be more positive.

"Okay, so what's the story? Am I paralysed? Going to be in a wheelchair? Need more surgery?"

I think my speech was improving. The older doctor with white hair tried to smile. He reminded me of the Star Wars character of Yoda.

"Julian, you had extensive injuries following the accident. You have already had many surgeries. In answer to your question- no, I don't think you're paralysed, but your body is still recovering. You may need a wheelchair in the short term. Our hope is that you regain use of your arms and legs."

"But..." I prompted.

"There is no easy way to tell you, your lower body was crushed in the accident. You were in emergency surgery for many hours."

"So I might have some limitations, disabilities?" I tested.

"Yes, but with physiotherapy you will likely improve your mobility, but there are no guarantees."

"Now you are awake you can truly begin the road to recovery," added the second doctor

"Okay, sounds good- still here!" I declared positively.

"But..." interrupted the third doctor.

"There's more?" I asked wondering what else could be wrong with me.

"Somethings, we couldn't fix. Some of the soft tissue in your lower abdomen couldn't be saved."

"Please Doctor, just say what you need to say."

"You had significant trauma to your genitals. We had to remove your testicles. At the moment we have installed a bag so that your waste fluid can be taken away. We can remove the bag now you are awake."

"So I've lost my balls?"

"Yes, you can never father children. I'm so sorry. There are additional complications. You still have your penis, but it might not react as you expect it to. Additionally when we performed a body scan we found that you have internal female organs. You are technically intersex, but as you externally presented as male at birth no-one knew."

"So I'm half girl?" I asked confused by the latest bombshell.

"It's not as simple as that," added the counsellor.

"Right, because now I have no balls I'm less male more female?" I asked trying to understand.

My Dad joined the conversation.

"We can talk about all the details once you have had time to absorb this information. We felt we should tell you as soon as possible so it wasn't a shock, if you, you know looked down. Well I know it's still a shock, but..."

"It's okay Dad. It's a shock, but at the moment it feels less important than being alive."

"We'll take out the catheter tomorrow," explained the doctor.

"Okay, so I will have to sit and pee like a girl?" I managed to say.

"I'm sorry, we had to make some decisions while you were in the coma," admitted my Dad.

"It's okay, half the population manage it, I'm sure I will adapt."

The three doctors talked some more, but I couldn't absorb more information. The counsellor offered her assistance. I could talk to her or a colleague at any time, but I didn't want to talk with a stranger. I didn't need therapy. I was probably in denial. Mum and Dad were more upset by the situation than I was. I think I was still in shock. The hospital staff left us alone in the small room.

"Hey, I'm not dead, sounds like I was close to it, but my guardian angel stepped in," I announced trying to remain cheerful.

"Well, that's one way of looking at it," agreed my Dad with a forced smile.

"When can I eat real food? When can I have a burger?"

"You're amazing," declared my Mum hugging me.

"I'm always hungry, that's not amazing," I joked.

We talked for several hours before they departed for the evening. I couldn't see for the moment what had happened to my lower body- I was still wearing a kind of nappy. Mum kissed my head. I realised my hair was longer, softer and my skin smoother. Once they had left I lay in the bed listening to music with my ear plugs contemplating my plan to recovery. I slept and dreamed of walking on a beach beneath the stars. Weirdly I was wearing a red dress. I felt calm. Was this me dealing with it, accepting my future?

The next morning I talked with George to schedule my learning to walk again. I was eager to be back on my feet.

My nurse brought me breakfast. I ate everything and was still hungry. I considered myself fortunate that I had never had to shave daily, I could get away with twice a week before the accident and then I never had much of a beard. I touched my face.

"Teresa, have you shaved me?"

"No."

"Well my face feels soft and smooth."

"That's one of a side effect of your injuries. You haven't needed to shave in several months."

"Oh, right: no balls."

I don't know why, but I think perhaps the enormity of my situation finally hit home- hot wet tears trailed down my cheeks. Teresa sat and put her arm around me allowing me to cry it out. I felt her hand stroking my longer hair. She didn't say anything and I think that helped. Platitudes wouldn't have relieved the sorrow.

"Sorry, I don't know where that came from," I sniffed.

She smiled kindly and wiped my eyes with a tissue.

"You've had a lot happening to you, it's a lot to process, I think you just needed to release some of the emotions."

"Thank you. May I ask a favour?"

"Sure, ask away."

"Do you have a mirror?"

"Give me a few minutes and I'll find one, but please don't worry- your beautiful face is still there. Do you want me to call the counsellor?" she asked.

"No, I don't want to talk to them, but thank you for the thought."

"Well you let me know if you need to talk- you can talk to me at any time while I am on shift," she said patting my hand.

I realised I had lost some muscle definition and some weight while I had been in the coma. I had never been big, muscular or fat, but I felt smaller, diminished somehow. I moved my hands over my body and found small scars on my waist. I think my boobs looked bigger, but maybe that was my imagination messing with me having accepted I was intersex. I wondered what other changes I would have?

Teresa returned with a small mirror. She placed it on my lap and held my hand. I was apprehensive, afraid even of what I would find. Teresa had called me beautiful, I didn't think she would lie to me, but what if I hideous? I slowly lifted it until my face came into view. I was still me, but with my longer hair I looked... different. I turned my head a little. My face was unblemished and I sighed with relief. I'm not a vain person, but I had seen how some people reacted to birth marks, burns or scarring.

"See I told you, still beautiful," she reiterated.

"Thanks, two eyes, two ears, a nose and a mouth. All accounted for."

That was the second time she had called me beautiful. She took the mirror and left me to contemplate my face. So I was still twenty four years old, but I think I looked younger than I remembered. My dark brown eyes were the same, my brown hair colour the same, just longer and shinier, but it felt silky in my fingers. My lips appeared fuller. I still found hearing my voice strange.

I ate my lunch with no complaints, but still felt hungry. I was craving burgers, pasta, pizza, chips, a baked potato with baked beans and strangely peaches. Mum called by, we talked about the accident and everything that had happened in the missing six months.

"Does your chest hurt?" she asked after we talked for nearly two hours.

"No, I feel strange, it's not painful, but it feels swollen and sensitive," I revealed blushing that she had caught me touching my boobs.

"Do you want me to call the doctor or the nurse?"

"No, I'm fine. I'm not in pain."

Our discussion was thankfully interrupted as friends called to visit me. Everyone was happy to see me. They distracted me from thinking too much about my body or my future. My best friend James told me that he and my Dad had read Lord of the Rings to me while I was in the coma. It was good to see him. He told me to call him if I needed anything. Melissa my ex-neighbour and old school friend hugged me. We had grown up together, attended the same school and played together during our adolescent years. She was a solicitor now.

"You let me know if you want me to sue that idiot that put you here," she declared.

"I'm not sure that would help, but thanks."

"You should claim for everything you can."

"Okay, see what I can claim for. I'll need some money to buy a new car."

"I'm on it. I'm really happy you're okay. Once you escape from here I'll take you out for dinner."

My head found the memory of the "Wooden Horse", a story of prisoners in World War Two, tunnelling to escape the POW camp. I hoped that I wouldn't need to resort to drastic measures.

"I can't wait. Listen, any chance you can sneak something in. I'm in desperate need for a burger- it's a medical emergency."

She laughed and squeezed my hand.

"I'll see what I can do. You need grapes?"

"No, but some peaches would be amazing."

"I'll see what I can arrange. I'm going to run, there is a queue forming for people wanting to see you. Be safe, see you soon."

Patrick and Jake from my work were next. They filled me in on work things. It was much the same, but they had missed me being on several new projects. We would meet up once I was home- they would bring pizza and beer.

My doctors were mostly happy with my progress and impressed with my rate of healing. My counsellor was concerned with my positive attitude which only made me laugh. She thought I was being too optimistic. I admitted that I had unusual mood changes.

The catheter was removed and I saw my body for the first time. There was a web of fine lines from below my belly button to my crotch. My penis was still there, but it looked strange, deformed even, and without my testicles it seemed alien. I visited the bathroom for the first time and felt relief that I could still pee. Having passed this 'test' I was allowed to move around a bit in my wheelchair. My right arm wasn't amazing, but with the continued exercise it felt better. I was exercising every minute I was awake, it wasn't weight lifting or running marathons, but I hoped that every little effort made a difference.