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I used to live in a home for war invalids.
The families were chosen to live there, if their father had been handicapped in the war.
There ware men with amputated legs, hands or other handicaps.
So as a child, I got used to people being different.
That was a good lesson to learn.
I lived in a very different sort of place, a residential neighborhood near a small town.
Everything was normal, there was no talk of being different.
At least no awareness of transsexuality what so ever.
Even though I felt that I'm *** when I was very small,
I was afraid to take the subject up even with my parents.
When I already had a family and children, I wished I could be a transvestite,
that I could reserve my girly moments to certain times, and be a man and a father at others.
It didn't work out in practice. The return to being a man after a weekend was horribly difficult.
When I was forty, I suddenly fell feverishly in love with this girl.
I contacted Seta, and asked if they had a group where I could meet and talk with others.
Jaana was there, and that's how it caught wind. We've been together for twenty years.
Deary me, when I'll go to a pensioners home, I'll probably be well and truly demented and vulnerable.
I wonder how will they take me?
That's what I hope from the community we'll be going to,
that the nurses would be knowledgeable, that they'd relate with us.
And truly know to be on our side,
because we need that support.
And that we manage to move to the same home.
It's very important for me to hold hands with Jaana,
that we're near to each other.
That's the most important.