From 91ba9a69867153480610bff7a4434d0697e37015 Mon Sep 17 00:00:00 2001 From: jwansek Date: Sat, 21 Feb 2026 17:13:19 +0000 Subject: Updated ffs.md --- edaweb/static/images/PXL_20251109_072147683.jpg | Bin 0 -> 1969656 bytes edaweb/static/images/faceoff.jpg | Bin 0 -> 1547618 bytes ffs.md | 47 ++++++++++++++++++++++-- 3 files changed, 43 insertions(+), 4 deletions(-) create mode 100644 edaweb/static/images/PXL_20251109_072147683.jpg create mode 100644 edaweb/static/images/faceoff.jpg diff --git a/edaweb/static/images/PXL_20251109_072147683.jpg b/edaweb/static/images/PXL_20251109_072147683.jpg new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6c2df9d Binary files /dev/null and b/edaweb/static/images/PXL_20251109_072147683.jpg differ diff --git a/edaweb/static/images/faceoff.jpg b/edaweb/static/images/faceoff.jpg new file mode 100644 index 0000000..a209700 Binary files /dev/null and b/edaweb/static/images/faceoff.jpg differ diff --git a/ffs.md b/ffs.md index 9e8f981..9710cd1 100644 --- a/ffs.md +++ b/ffs.md @@ -3,8 +3,6 @@ Quite a lot of people have asked me questions about my FFS experience, so I don't have to repeat myself, I write this detailed post about how it went for me, the questions to ask, and the recovery process etc. -Once I'm more healed up I will consider adding before/after pictures, but for now there are no pictures. - ## Selecting your surgeon and what procedures to get For me, I was raised on transgender imageboards where surgeons are openly discussed, where people know @@ -62,8 +60,49 @@ Now we know what to look for in a surgeon's results pictures, we can better guag ## My FFS journey +![the results from my nose and forehead](/img/faceoff.jpg?h=400&w=5000) + +*I am extremely pleased with the results from my forehead and nose. At the time of writing it is too soon to see the results from the jaw work.* + +This section discusses my personal experiences, which might be a good way of knowing what to expect during the recovery process. My experiences remain personal, and your recovery could well be different. + +I had wanted to get FFS for years. However, I had always considered it out of reach- I'd even planned my life around moving to America to get it with insurance. After I gave up on trying to get an American work visa, I instead started to look at cheaper european surgeons. Whilst most people shop around with lots of surgeons, my choice was dictated by my budget, so in some ways my choice was easier. I basically had to pick a French surgeon, either Qassemyar or Lachiver. For a long time the most popular european choice was Facialteam in Spain, and once upon a time they were considered a budget option, but nowadays they're not even much cheaper than American surgeons. Moreover, they are often considered overly conservative. Picking a French surgeon was a bit of a strange choice at the time; even though French surgeons are increasing in popularity now, francophone surgeons hadn't had much discussion in english-speaking spaces. I knew people who had been to both surgeons and had excellent results, but I chose Qassemyar over Lachiver because in the before and after pictures on his website, the girls in the after pictures were wearing heavy makeup, which rubbed me the wrong way a little, whereas Qassemyar's instagram pictures were simply taken on the operating table with zero anglefrauding. I also thought Lachiver's results were a bit more inconsistant, although that could have been the patients asking for fewer procedures or for the surgeon to be conservative. + +I procrastinated for a long time before trying to book a consultation. I was a bit nervous because I thought they might have found it rude for a random person speaking english to speak to them out of the blue. Nonetheless, I first messged them on instagram, they sent me an e-mail address, and then a Whatsapp number to message, of his assistant who was going to organize everything. She asked me if I had a recent CT scan, which she said wasn't a problem when I said I hadn't, and asked me to take some pictures of my face. Taking these pictures was really traumatic- I basically had to take non-anglefrauded pictures of myself for the first time in years, specifically highlighting my worst features that I normally try to keep hidden. It made me extremely dysphoric. In the end, I had an online consulation booked for the end of January. The time from first message to consultation was less than two weeks. I now know that nowadays this process takes multiple months because of the increased popularity of the surgeon. When the time for the consultation came, I was pretty nervous, but I knew what I wanted to say. It made me laugh a little that he was two and a half hours late, but I suppose it shows that he takes care of his patients that he's happy to discuss in detail with them for that long. My own consultation was pretty short, it surprised me how fast he started talking about my face. In my previous surgery, my VFS, the surgeon asked me a bunch of canned questions about if I was dysphoric about my voice etc., how long I'd been a tranny for etc., I guess to guage if I was a real tranny or not. In this case however, the only question in this regard he asked me was if I'd been on hormones for over two years, which I replied in the affirmation. I suppose this question could also have been interpreted as being about facial changes from hormones. Nonetheless, neither of the surgeons tried to gatekeep me or asked for letters from psychiatrists etc. He asked me about my facial features I disliked, I talked about my jawline, my adam's apple, and the size of my forehead despite having no hair loss. In this time he nodded undersandingly. I said I wasn't sure if I needed brow work or a rhinoplasty, and asked him for his opinion if I needed work there or not. FFS consultations are pretty funny when you think about it. You basically send pictures of yourself to some guy, and he makes eye contact with you and politely describes everything wrong with your face. I felt validated that he agreed with me about what was wrong with my face, and described how he thought brow work and rhinoplasty would be good for me. At the time, I'd hardly even thought about my nose, since I'd been most brainwormed about my jawline instead. I consider that the consultation is sorta a balancing act between hiding your power level that you know all of the techical terms and don't appear BDD, and appearing to be not sufficiently dysphoric and leading the surgeon to not take you seriously. I think in this consultation I was too far on the latter of this scale- my consulation was only 20-30 minutes long where I think most are longer. How was it possible that something I hate this much, I could only talk about for that short amount of time? It rubbed me the wrong way a little bit that we didn't discuss surgery risks etc. in the first consultation like I did with my VFS, I put this down to differences in the English and French medical systems. + +I recieved a quote for the surgery soon after, containing a list of the procedures he'd recommend and an according price. I signed it and sent it off, and paid my deposit 2 days later. I felt a bit strange that I only had a consultation with one surgeon, but as I said earlier, my choices were rather limited and I'd probably choose him anyway. The assistant asked me if I had a date I wanted for the surgery, I said any time after mid-May. They replied to me with a date at the start of November, 11 months after my initial consultation. I was pretty upset with how long I had to wait for. Perhaps it was because I said I wanted a date after mid-May, but I think waiting times for Qassemyar are entirely arbitrary and random. People who had consultations *after* me got surgery dates in July. I probably could have gotten an earlier date if I asked for one, but I was too polite to do so. Waiting for the surgery was pretty hard. Of course I'd wanted to get FFS for years, but with a specific date to it now, I felt like I'd never wanted anything as much in my life before. I had an app in my phone that counted down the number of days, and looked at it multiple times a day for the 250+ days. I felt like such a loser. In the upcoming months, I paid off the rest of the surgery plenty early, since I had no reason to do otherwise. As early as I could, I also booked tickets on the eurostar to Paris. I knew I was going to get the Eurostar over an aeroplane, since it worked out the same price with baggage since I didn't want to deal with airport security whilst in a post-FFS recovery state. A few months before the surgery, my friend and her bf (who I am also friends with) asked if they could join me in Paris, I of course agreed, since the more people taking care of me the better. Qassemyar patients often use a 'villa' for their recovery, but with these additional people joining me, I instead opted to just use an AirBNB instead, which actually worked out cheaper anyway. My surgery date was on Saturday, with a CT scan and pre-op appointment the day before on Friday, and a post-op appointment on the Friday next week. So I booked the eurostar tickets accordingly, traveling from Norwich to London and London to Paris on Thursday, and back a week later on the Friday after my post-op. I found it funny that the price of the train ticket from Norwich to London was cheaper than the ticket from London to Paris. In the months I was waiting for my surgery date, I found myself becoming even more dysphoric about my facial features, especially the ones the surgeon had pointed out to me, like my nose, but at least this time I had something to look forward to. I was also terrified of being dissapointed with the results as I was for my VFS, but this time I improved my mental attitude, saying to myself that after this, there will be realistically speaking nothing more I can change about my face, so I might as well like it. + +When the time came on the Thursday, after packing my bags the night before, I travelled down to London on the train and met my friend at St. Pancras station. I had actually never used the eurostar before, so I was interested by the experience. It is true that there is less security than at an airport, but there is still some. You go through passport control before you arrive at your destination, and their is x-rays for your luggage. At the London side at least, I didn't need to take anything out of my bag. Once you're through security, you have to wait for ages in a really crammed waiting space. Imagine Eindhoven airport but a million times more hot and crammed. The train journey was pretty cool, its the fastest you can travel on trains in the UK. You can also buy a 'Navigo' Paris metro card on the train so you don't have to do it in Paris. It was fun until the train broke down and we were stuck just outside of Paris for two hours, I was very glad I decided to travel down a day earlier than required. Also, if the train is delayed by more than two hours, you get 50% of the ticket price refunded. We got to the AirBNB pretty late, but all was well in the end. + +The next day we got up to go to my CT scanner appointment. Using public transport in a new city when you don't speak the language can be pretty scary, but we worked it out in the end. We got to the radiology clinic over an hour early, so we just spent a while walking round killing time. + + +I was pretty nervous about interacting with people since I don't speak french very well, but the entire time I had zero issues. I showed my prescription to the desk person and was sent upstairs to wait. The actual CT scan was pretty easy, it only lasted like 5 minutes and I only had to focus on keeping my head straight. MRI scans last much longer I believe. Once that was done I wask shown into another room where the radiologist looked at my scans on this powerful computer. It had a really cool 3D rendering of my face and skull, it was rather surreal seeping my own face up on there. After staring at my face for a while, the radiologist was like "yeah you have a normal skull" (one of the best compliments i've recieved) and sent me out to wait again. i wasn't expecting this but i was handed a huge A3 enveolope of my CT imagery to take with me. + +i left to go and find my boyfriend where he was waiting for me in a cafe, where I had some time to kill until my pre-op. it was very surreal, me walking around paris with a huge envelope of pictures of my skull. Anyway after that it was time for me to go to my appointment. After walking to his office I felt, dare I say, the most mogged i've ever felt in my life. there was all these beautiful dolls and i was out there looking like an autistic sperg loser. I felt very out of place. I was thinking that if you were a chaser you could sit in the cafe outside his office and oogle all of the women going past every day. in the appointment, it was just me sitting across from him and his two assistants. the chair was one of those ones you sink into with the back really far back that I hate, so I just perched on the end and tried to keep my back straight. I'm really insecure in this situation because I've heard horror stories of surgeons not trying hard because they're not attracted to the girl they're working on. the surgeon said a sarcastic joke to try to help me relax but I was so nervous it fell completely flat on my ears. he had the 3D scan of me up and was describing the procedures he was going to do to me, e.g. type III forehead reconstruction because of my forehead sinus. again, I was rather at a loss at what to say: i described the nose style I wanted, a straight nose, pointed up at the end, with the projection reduced a little, with my nostrils smaller too, but besides that I just wanted as much bone reduced as possible. some girls get really specific about the type of jaw and forehead they want, but I simply wanted as much bone removed as possible. I felt as if I hadn't been explicit enough in my previous consultation, so this time I explicitally said basically "yeah, go ham". + +After my pre-op, basically nothing remained but to show up for my surgery. So after a night with little sleep due to nerves, I showed up at the hospital over an hour early. So early in fact that the hospital wasn't open yet. So my and my boyfriend went around on a nice walk. The hospital was close to the viewing area for the effiel tower, so we shared a tender moment there. Walking round Paris in the very early morning was really peaceful and really helped with my nerves. Inside the hospital, I introduced myself and was taken to a side room where they took copies of my identification and I paid for the anaethstatist. Again, in the hospital I felt very out of place. It was very extravigantely decorated and luxourious, nothing at all like an NHS hospital. Because after all it is a cosmetics-only hospital made for middle aged-french housewives, I felt out of place as a mid-working-class-british tranny. Once my room was ready, I was taken to it and dressed in a fetching blue gown, tied at the waist made my hips look surprisingly good. At some point qassemyar and his assistants came to see me; and they said there would be a minor delay due to some issue with the hospital. I didn't really mind, but I had to wait for an hour or so. When the time came, I kissed goodbye to my boyfriend, which was a very strange moment. It was sort of like saying goodbye to him with my old face, I was shortly going to become a different person. The nurse walked me downstairs to the basement where the operating theatres were. it was a hub of activity, loads of nurses diligently working away. in that moment i felt very vulnerable; naked besides my gown and underwear, not even wearing my glasses, and everyone was speaking a language i didn't understand. walking into the operating room, i recognised the anethetist who smiled at me which made me feel a little more relaxed. the operating table looked pretty scary; it reminded me of those american execution tables, there was a pad for the left arm out to the side, no straps though. i remember the room was freezing cold, but they had my lie on the bed and covered me with a thin blanket. there was a heater blowing near my feet that warmed me up, which I was grateful for. the anaethatatist asked me if i wanted to play music and handed me his iphone with spotify on it, i wondered what his search history would be like so i was a tiny bit nosey and it was all classical music, which relieved me slightly. I didn't think they would appreciate hyperpop, so i selected canon in d. Its traditionally a wedding song but I find its repeating cycles very relaxing. the anasthatist's assistant started working on me. my only other experience with surgery was for my VFS (glottoplasty) which was a different experience. im not sure if it's a language barrier thing, or a culture difference thing, but in england they're always like "im going to put this needle in you now." "im going to put this blood pressure cuff on you". "we're putting this drug in you which will make you feel wierd". whereas here they sorta just... did stuff to you. i suppose I don't really mind; just an interesting observation. when I was poked with a needle, i was thinking ""you'd better man up over this minor pain; you're going to be experiencing a hell of a lot worse pain soon". i smelled my surgeon before i saw or heard him, i could smell his cigarrettes, he tenderly touched me on my shoulder and the combination of that and the smell was just what i needed to comfort me when i was nervous and starting to feel woozy. he said he was just talking to my friend in the smoking area, and that he promised him he would take care of me. i wondered if my body was shown to them when they were putting the monitoring on me, but i figured they wouldn't care either way since they've presumabley seen plenty of trannies' bodies before. i never breathed into a mask like for VFS, i just slowly drifted off to sleep while i felt my surgeon brushing my hair from behind. + ![the last pre-ffs picture of me that exists](/img/PXL_20251108_063442686.MP.jpg?h=400&w=5000) -*The last picture of me that exists pre-FFS* +*The last picture of me that exists pre-FFS* + +when i awoke, i remembered where i was pretty quickly. i remember there was a curtain to my left, and some silvery equipment in the wall in front of me. i was feeling extremely exhausted and tired, and i had nothing else to do but close my eyes and go back to sleep. at this stage, the only pain i had was in my throat, it just felt like a slightly worse VFS. i couldn't feel my face at all. it felt very strange. i awoke again to the feeling of someone shaking my shoulder and asking me for my pain out of ten, i was so high i couldn't even really comprehend the question or speak so i just shrugged my shoulders. i saw the nurses around me really, i only felt and heard them. i remember them yelling the name of a girl next to me trying to get her to wake up. i wondered if they were doing the same to me earlier. i awoke again retching, sitting up violently. at first there was nothing, but soon a paper kidney dish was thrust unto me and i vomited into it. i was at first scared to see that what had just came out of me was brown blood, but the unconcerned reaction of the nurse led me to be unconcerned with this too. i later learned that vomiting blood is fine, its just that the blood from your rhinoplasty and jaw work during surgery going down your throat and into your stomach. it may surprise you to year that i did'nt really mind vomiting that much. for me, the feeling of nausea is a lot worse than the actual act of vomiting. and i did't feel any nauesa at all. its a bit like vomiting when you're drunk. or high. which i suppose i was. i think the anaeshtatist did a good job in making me know what to expect; i knew that i would be taken to a recovery room before back to my room, and would vomit a lot. i think my experience would have been a lot worse if he didnt tell me what to expect beforehand. the nurse again asked me for my pain out of ten, i said four because my pain was mild. honestly over the whole time the pain was manageable, it mostly just felt uncomfortable. i was always breathing through my mouth. i knew i wouldn't be able to breathe through my nose, so i didnt try. + +my next memory was back in my room being ushered to wiggle my bum onto my bed from the trolley bed. i was surprised in myself that i was able to move, but the action made me vomit again. i saw my boyfriend across the room from me looking at my phone, which made me feel nice. outside it was pitch dark, which was the only indication that a lot of time had passed. i later learned that my surgery was eight hours long. it was only supposed to be six, but my surgeon said that everything was normal, he just spent that extra time trying to remove as much extra bone as possible from my jaw. i also learned that the first thing he did after he finished workin g on me was to call another one of his patients to comfort her. i really got the impression that he went to do as much as possible for people. at this stage i was going through this stage of waking up needing to vomit, and being exhaused and going back to sleep straight away. at some point my boyfriend told me that he was leaving, i didn't really mind because i was mostly sleeping anyway. the next time i woke i was happy to see my phone on charge next to me. at one point i tried to read the messages on my phone, but even the act of sitting up and reading made me feel so exhausted. i supposed this was what chronic fatigue syndrome was like, it really wasn't nice. it is a wierd thing to vomit when you cant really open your mouth, it covers your lips and chin in blood. but i couldn't feel any of my face anyway. because i was breathing through my mouth, it felt extremely dry. like as dry as the sahara desert. this was the main source of discomfort for the next few weeks, it was really bad. i would awake with my mouth feeling insanely dry, vomit, and the blood would dry on my lips. i had no sensation in my face at all, like i had no sensation when i touched it and had no sensation of the bandages and gauze on my face. if i touched where i thought where my mouth would be, i didn't recognise what i was touching, which was my very swollen up bottom lip area. i spent the next few hours in this cycle of waking up, puking, and lying back with my eyes closed in this fugue-like state between conciousness and unconciousness. at some point i could no longer ignore the fact i needed to urinate, and asked the nurse to help me use the toilet. she undid the compression things on my legs, and undid my drip so i could use the toilet. throughout this whole stage my voice was extremely fucked up, i could barely speak. so later i gave up on trying to speak at all for the next few days and just communicated with my phone or by gesturing and pointing. i inadvertantly saw my face in the mirror and was aghast at what looked back at me, i looked bloodied and bruised and was wearing bandages i didn't realize i was wearing. the actual act of peeing was pretty strange. i assume its something to do with being on a drip, but like the pressure was really low, and it took a long time to get everything out. i wasn't sure if i should leave the door to the bathroom open or closed. i decided to leave it open whilst i peed in case i passed out or something. i felt so awful any normal politeness i would normally be concerned of no longer mattered to me. I cant really overstate how awful the drymouth was. it was certainly the most uncomfortable part of ffs for me. once i got back into bed i vomited a lot more blood. i figured the movement was making me motionsick, so i tried not to move at all. the nurse left me a big stack of kidney dishes on the side for me to vomit into. i awoke every few hours, but mostly just tried to sleep through the worst of it. + +![the only picture i have after the first day](/img/PXL_20251109_072147683.jpg?h=400&w=5000) + +*the only picture i have in the first day. interestingly my surgeon doesn't seem to go for the big thick bandages other surgeons do, only this white bandage that was removed after the first night plus the compression garment.* + + + + + + + + + + -This section discusses my personal experiences, which might be a good way of knowing what to expect during the recovery process. I write it in the first person present tense because I've been reading a lot of fiction like that recently. Nonetheless, my experiences remain personal, and your recovery could well be different. +**To be continued...** -- cgit v1.2.3