To be me, or not to be me?

The following is the transcription of a recording. Warning! It ends abruptly and you'll have to fill in the gaps.

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The first successful brain transplant, read the headlines. I don't remember much. One minute we were in the car, the next we were flying through the air. My lover was driving and was lucky enough to walk away with just a few bruises. I, on the other hand, well, my body was broken. Literally. There was no other option for me, but this pioneering medical act. Since I have no close relatives, the decision had to be made by my partner. It must not have been easy, but still I wonder whether the decision was not a bit easier due to some weird sexual fantasy. After the surgery, when I woke up and looked in the mirror, even though I had looked in the mirror thousands of times before, it felt like the first time. The image I was used to see, was no longer there, replaced by this usurper. What does one do, when one wakes up after cheating death and realizes one is the opposite sex? I'm the usurper. But I'm alive. That's what I do now: I live and I usurp. My donor was an athlete, and this body is amazing, but holy shit, how am I supposed to get used to living in the body of a...?

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