Time approaches for me to catch my flight to Montreal.  I was too excited and didn't sleep
most of the night.  I'm up at 4:15 AM and getting ready.  My flight leaves the Rock Springs
(Wyoming) airport at 6:40 AM.  I'll fly to Denver, Chicago and then finally Montreal.  I've had
my things packed for a week.

The flight to Denver is on a small shuttle plane.  Twenty of the 22 seats were taken. The
calm morning skies reveal snow-covered mountains below.  It's all so peaceful.  After I
arrive in Denver I have a several hour lay over.  I write Jeri a short letter and mail it.  I
already miss her.

Trouble seems to be brewing on the horizon.  My flight from Denver to Chicago is delayed
50 minutes due to severe weather conditions in Chicago.

In contrast to the small commuter plane I took out of Rock Springs, the flight to Chicago is
on a DC-10.  It's only about a third full and I have a window seat.  They're showing movies
but I'm lost in thought, thinking of Jeri and the kids and how I wish they could have
accompanied me on this journey.

We arrive at O'Hare International Airport in Chicago and the weather is terrible.  Heavy
snow, strong winds and freezing cold.  Many flights are delayed and many more cancelled.  
My flight to Montreal is delayed one and a half hours but I'm thankful it wasn't cancelled.

My flight to Montreal is on a DC-9 jetliner which sparks another memory.  Just a few months
prior I had my oldest daughter in the pilot's seat of a DC-9 and, as a joke, had caused one of
the jet engines to whine and startle her every time she touched a control.  I thought back
to that day just two months prior.

My excitement gives way to weariness at being on airplanes and waiting in airports for
such long periods of time.  I had departed Rock Springs at 6:40 AM Mountain Standard Time
and it's now 8:25 PM Eastern Standard Time and we're still going.  I begin to worry if I will
miss my connections in Montreal.

It's snowing, cold and late when I finally arrive in Montreal.  No problem at customs.  My
concerns fade when I find Robert Clark, limousine driver, waiting for me at the airport.  
Robert is friendly, proper and distinguished looking.  Robert stated he had been waiting for
some time and was concerned if I would arrive due to the weather conditions.  Robert
drives me to Dr. Menard's residential care unit on this cold, snowy day, giving me a tour of
the area in the process.  Robert talks with both knowledge and pride of the Montreal area
while having an interest in where I am from too.  As I hazily survey the snow draped
scenery from the rear of the limousine, there is the illusion of a fantasy world beyond the
glass of my window.  I think it is a fantasy, my dreams come true.  It's still hard to believe
everything is becoming a reality.

We arrive at the residence at 11:20 PM.  I am quite surprised to find the accommodations to
be a large modern house in a residential neighborhood.  The night housekeeper, Lydia,
meets me at the door.  I discover she has immigrated to Canada from Russia several years
prior.  We hit it off quite will; Lydia is a very wonderful and friendly person.

Arriving so late it would be expected that it would be time to turn in for the night.  Surprise!  
There were several people waiting for my arrival in the dining room. First there was
Brittany, a post-op from Arizona who was scheduled to have some supplemental surgery
done.  Carley was there, a beautiful girl with blond hair and a charming personality.  Carley
was originally from Pittsburgh so we found common ground right away as I grew up in the
Pittsburgh area.  Carley is now from Las Vegas and is accompanied by her boyfriend
Cheyenne.

All the girls swooned over Cheyenne. He  had a wonderful personality, a body builder with a
neatly trimmed beard, dark complexion and was quite interested in all the girls and their
stories.  Cheyenne was always the gentleman and made everyone feel so feminine.  I was
certainly impressed.  Even at my size Cheyenne picked me up like I was nothing and held
me in his arms.
Next there is Annette, a 24 year old Hispanic girl from Chicago who is loud, crude, and
boisterous. Annette makes me laugh and I love her attitude along with her sense of humor.
booty. Despite the picture I paint of Annette she is a very neat person being honest,
straightforward and open. We get along very well.

Michelle is another one of the post-ops. She is a thin black girl from Las Angeles who is a
writer for a popular television series. She is tired but always friendly, soft spoken with a smile
for everyone. Michelle seems to have problems following the surgery and appears weak and
frail.

Finally there is one other post-op girl named Michelle who is from Florida and worked at
Disney world.  Michelle and Annette frequently clash and I wonder if Michelle has made the
right decision in pursing GRS.

In the evening I finally have my long awaited consultation with Dr. Menard. I have studied
GRS in depth and have very few questions. Dr. Menard seems like a very warm person
genuinely interested in the transsexuals whom he treats. I complain to Dr. Menard that there
isn't any firewood  for the living room fireplace.

Dr. Menard's wife, Sylvia, is a nurse and is frequently in and out of the residence. On one
occasion Sylvia might be in as a nurse, later she might just drop by for lunch or to chat. Sylvia
is quite friendly and oversees care of the patients as well as the day to day operations of the
residence.
stories.  I am quite open and they listen
intently to my account of love and support
from my souse and children as I relate my
gender journey.  We all have such fascinating
stories and share the details, some which are
very intimate.

A snowstorm hits and adds feet of snow to the
inches already present. I have a beautiful view
of this winter wonderland out my bedroom
window. I spend most of my day in anticipation
of consulting with Dr. Menard about the details
of my pending GRS. To my dismay Dr. Menard
is being delayed by the snowstorm.

That afternoon the post-op girls begin to return
from the hospital for their recovery at the
residence. They seem to walk ever so slowly
and take deliberate steps. After they get
settled back into the residence we have the
chance to become acquainted.

First, there is Mikela. A young oriental girl from
Montreal who is very pretty and refined. Mikela
works as a hairdresser and make-up person for
television and movies in New York City.
Linda's Experience in Montreal
Linda Anne Simpson
January 1, 1997
January 9, 1997
Friday January 10, 1997
Linda  Simpson and Cheyenne
Well,here it is. A new year and only nine days until I leave for Montreal, Quebec, Canada for
GRS (Gender Reassignment Surgery) to be completed by Dr. Menard. I have dreamt of this
reality.

The only apprehension I feel is being unfamiliar with hospitals, as I've never had such a
major surgery and have only been hospitalized three times before. I want to talk about
everything associated with going to Montreal but no one at home wants to talk. I've
probably talked so much of this pending journey that there isn't anything new left to
discuss without being repetitious.

It seems like just yesterday that I was growing up, such a reality as the approaching day
was never conceived as possible. Endless years more spent fighting and denying the
feeling I knew were my true self. Even when I did accept the woman that I am, I was afraid
I was too big, with too many male features (testosterone poisoning), and too old to every
undergo such a transformation. I thought such a transformation would cost exorbitant
amounts, beyond any means I was capable of obtaining. Hundreds of thousands of dollars
and only done by some obscure surgeon in Sweden.

I think back a dozen years when I tried to tell my spouse Jeri of my feelings and how, when
I finally did she embraced my gender dysphoria and helped me become who I am. I look
back at the first time I did a full dress in clothing that actually fit and was coordinated,
with Jeri's help, of course. We spent hours putting on make-up and getting everything just
right. I felt so pretty. I felt so feminine and so natural.

We videotaped this first experience. When I looked at the videotape, I was horrified! I was
now certain that I could never transition. With all that help, coordination and make-up, I
was but a man in a dress. How depressing. I could never pass; I could never realize my
dreams.

As it was, I did not know about hormones and their effects on the body. I didn't know about
electrolysis or many other things. How funny it seems now. Even at six feet two and one
half inches, I always pass now and how rare it is to have an experience where I don't pass.
Now it's only days away from GRS.

I have come a long way on this journey.