A Transgender Marathon Swimmer makes her Most Difficult Channel Crossing

The chair felt cold through the paper hospital gown. The doctor asked me to put my chin up as he stared directly at me. He leaned forward holding my face firmly in his left hand and began drawing with the sharpie marker. He drew on my forehead, across my brow, down my nose, along my lips and finally under my chin. I knew what each line represented as his hand traveled over my face. We met just 18 hours earlier to discuss aesthetic questions along with more practical matters like when to stop eating and drinking before surgery. My fiancé and I celebrated my last night as a man during dinner the night before, toasting Jerry and all he had been. The father, artist, entrepreneur and athlete.

So few had known of my journey before a few months ago. I’d known in my first conscious moment that something wasn’t right. This feeling was with me every moment of every day. I made enormous efforts to forget or move beyond it, but nothing ever worked. I eventually returned to the mirror making myself up and trying to find clothes that would allow me to appear as the woman I felt inside. Sometimes there would be days in between these visits, sometimes months, sometimes years. No matter what new purge I tried I found she absolutely would not go.

Unfortunately I wasn’t the only person I’d convinced I was just this tall athletic, creative man. My ex-wife felt so betrayed when she found out. Wonderful people abandoned or avoided me after I shared. My precious children were shocked and dis-oriented. Plenty of pain in heaping spoonfuls for all. Delusion was no gift for me or anyone else involved. I finally had to own it. Time to change the exterior to match the person inside before someone else got too close.

The doctor handed me a pill. ‘This will make you drowsy.’ he said. Last chance to back out I thought as I swallowed the Valium. My fiancé kissed me. “See you soon.” she said leaving the room. I felt a surge of love as she walked out the door. The Anesthesiologist helped me onto the crisp paper lined surface of the gurney. She wheeled me down the hall past a few doors and into the well lit surgery room. My eyelids grew heavy. Things were dimming now and the room began to sway. Darkness

The boat rocked in the swell as I adjusted my cap and goggles. I made sure the glow stick was firmly secured. Seth massaged my shoulders as we listened for the signal from inside the cabin. Seth was the captain of the team composed of myself, Scott, John, Felipe and Cindy. Most wouldn’t argue that we were favored to win. ‘Swimmers Ready” came the call on the Walkie Talkie.” I moved to the transom from the stern of the 35′ Cruiser. The cold of the water shot through my feet up my legs and along my spine causing goose bumps to rise on my skin. Only the cap and a slim racing Speedo to keep me warm in the 57 degree water. I began breathing deeply, oxygenating my blood and calming my nerves.

The water was rough. The wind had blown all night. I could see Jane the paddler off the stern fighting to keep position. 2–3’ wind chop. Ugly. “Go Jerry!” She called. I was the lead-off swimmer on a team composed of former college athletes, Olympic trialists, All-Americans and elite triathletes. I was their ringer, their anchor, in a 26 mile race across this open ocean channel.

Booop! Off went the air horn — I jumped from the deck into the water. Whack!! The cold hit my nervous system sucking the air from my lungs and gripping my head in an ice-cold vice. It was dark, so dark, unfeeling and icy.

Cold… Air!! My body screamed as I launched through the surface. Instantly I was buried in another wave, submerged halfway through a stroke. Then whoosh out the back into the air. I choked a half salt water breath as I dropped into the trough and went under again. Every stroke was a fight to move and breathe. Only a glow stick on my cap for my paddler to see me and the same along the rails of her board as we heaved up and then back down again into the darkness.

We continued for what seemed an eternity lurching through the choppy sea together. Sometimes she was there and then I would catch a train of 3–4 waves in a row, submerge and lose her. No rhythm, no pattern, just moving thrashing, fighting through the cold and dark. Each breath a gift and then into the cold, over and over. Seconds became minutes, then hours. Swimmers rotated through the dark and cold. Back in the icy water again and again, the numb creeping towards my core. I began to consider staying under, letting the cold and dark take me.

“Genivieve” I heard from somewhere in the beckoning depth. I sensed warmth and the faintest glow above. I began to see the surface. I took in a breath and opened my eyes. I saw a thin strip of light along the horizon. Is that an island? I could just make out the silhouette. I saw her smile like a sunrise above the nurse’s pitching shoulder. “My sanctuary.” I said feeling suddenly calmed. My fiancé appeared now, her warmth rose to envelope me. Her grasp safe and warm. “You did it Genivieve.” she whispered like a warm autumn breeze. You’ve made the crossing.”