I did my surgical residency at Vanderbilt University back in the late 1970s to early 80s. Vanderbilt, like most well known schools had a gender program. It was while I was there that they discontinued it. But in my second year of residency I was covering general surgery for the hospital. I was called to the emergency room to see a patient from the gender program one evening. I heard that the patient was having some bleeding and was concerned about that and infection and had 'sex change surgery' just 2 weeks before.
I finished what I was doing and went to the ER. At this time I was not even cross dressing. I knew that mixing transition and a surgery residency would likely cause me to fail both. I'll never forget going to the ER that evening. The nurses were talking to me in unusual hushed tones and they were apologetic about having to call me to see this patient. I recall they avoided any pronouns. They were rarely apologetic about calling doctors in the residency staff. After all, we made much less per hour than the nurse, and thus had a mixed status relative to them. They knew we would make more money than them later and that we had the worse hours.
After seeing 2 nurses and an xray tech (no films were made or needed, but she guided me to the room) I introduced myself to the patient who was sitting on a gyn table. I confirmed she had surgery 2 weeks ago and was concerned about drainage. She had the pack out a few days before and was dilating as instructed. I examined her and noted somewhat raw tissue typical of a surgical procedure 2 weeks before. I was very careful with the speculum. There was some swelling but I thought everything was within the normal and so reasured her.
I noticed that this woman was barely passable. This was before the era of facial feminizing surgery. I felt sorry for her and I reaffirmed that I was better off not transitioning. At this time I was 28 years old and would not transition for another 25 years. I wanted the normal life and I knew that transition would end that quest. I had two opposing dreams. One was being conventionally successful and the other was to be the women I knew I was. But I was able to be convincing enough as a male, even if a short one with a voice too high for a man. I wore a mustache to be sure there was not question of it.