Number 141

 A Rant

The latest assault against transgender folks and our struggle to be treated with fairness, respect, dignity, and, yes, equality, comes from social/religious conservative legislators. In state houses across our country they are working overtime to pass laws that would make it illegal for medical professionals to use the standard methods of care for the treatment of transgender patients under the age of 18. In other words, they want to make it illegal for doctors and therapists to treat their patients using "best practice" methods, i.e. the methods currently recognized by medical professionals as the most effective treatments for any particular healthcare concern. This is pre - fucking - posterous.

"You broke your leg? Nah, no need to set the bone or put your leg in a cast. Just wrap a stick around your leg for a few months."

"Well... we could give you insulin for your diabetes, but we really think all need to do is just chew on some bubble gum when you feel light-headed."

"Yes we could use stitches to close that gaping wound, but we really think wrapping it with a lot of Saran wrap is the better way to go."

I fucking hate social/religious conservatives. These assholes are not happy unless they're sticking their profoundly large noses in other people's business. Their desire to control and legislate the way everybody should live is infuriating. They are utterly incapable of allowing other people to think and live in a manner that is incongruous to theirs. They make all kinds of claims as to why they do this. About how it's because their "religious freedoms" are being compromised, but that's just bullshit. No one is asking them to change how they think or feel. If they wanna be prejudicial racist homophobes that's their choice. All I'm saying is they should not have the right to make things challenging/difficult/illegal for the folks who disagree with them.

Here's the thing when it comes to the treatment of transgender youth that these cognitively disinclined individuals either don't understand or intentionally ignore. By the time it gets to the point where decisions are being made about taking medication to block the onset of puberty or any other medical treatments, that particular kiddo has already traveled a long road. A kid, or their parent(s), can't just go into a doctor's office and say, "I'm think I'm trans, gimme some pills." Any evaluation and treatment of a transgender youth is going to be extensive and carefully managed by multiple people who are experienced in the treatment of gender dysphoria. It's not like the drive-thru window at McDonalds ("I'll take a Big Mac, a Sprite, and a side order of testosterone, please). 

The other spin these ass hats try to foist upon us is the notion that the medical professionals involved in the treatment of transgender folks are intentionally 'pushing' their patients to seek out various gender confirmation procedures. Just like the episode of Ellen DeGeneres's sitcom when she came out, they must think doctors get a new toaster every time they 'convert' someone. It may appear that way because, duh, only people who are already feeling uncertain about their gender identity are seeking out the medical professionals that deal with gender related issues. Go figure.

Oh yeah. I almost forgot. Apparently these idiots are also 'concerned' that the percentage of young people claiming to be trans or non-binary continues to rise. If I understand correctly, they are concerned about teenagers expressing themselves in a way that is so much different than when they were younger. Huh, I've never known teenagers to do that before. (sarcasm intended)

Look. The bottom line here is simple. These legislators are trying to legally mandate the manner in which medical professionals treat patients. That is not only wrong, it is morally repugnant.

Number 140

 An Updated Update of an Updated Non-Updated Update 

So I met with my plastic surgeon recently. He seemed genuinely impressed with the weight I have lost (approximately 40 lbs.). I'm back on the 'to-be-scheduled' surgery list, but I've been down this road before. Though I'm cautiously optimistic it will actually happen "soon-ish;" I also remain skeptical, so as to protect myself from further heartbreak in the future. Getting my hopes up has not worked so well for me in the past. Although I'm fairly open with information regarding my gender confirmation journey overall, I'm going to keep further details about my (hopefully) upcoming 'bottom' surgery to myself for awhile. Thanks. Love to you all.

Number 139

 Mourning Wood

(warning: potential overshare by author, proceed with caution)

As it turns out, I traveled more than one road on my journey of self-discovery that eventually led me to 'Nora.' The particular path that's on my mind at the moment relates to a long history of E.D. I tried to manage in my 'old' life. Spoiler alert: I didn't do a very good job. Now, of course, it makes perfect sense why nothing seemed to work, but it was quite frustrating living through it. I tried all the pills with little success. I met with urologists, and underwent a variety of evaluations and blood tests to try and understand why I couldn't get it up when I wanted to get down. When it was revealed that my levels of testosterone were low (go figure), I began using testosterone hormonal patches. This amuses me a great deal nowadays, as I think to myself that those particular patches were the exact opposite of what I really needed! Nothing worked, which, of course, led to the conclusion that it was all in my head. They say that there are only two things in life that are guaranteed: death and taxes. I'd add one more: hoping for an erection to last is the surest way to ensure it won't.

Currently I no longer have a need for them (thank God!), but until I'm able to undergo my long wished for "bottom" surgery, I'm stuck with this archaic genitalia that does nothing for me but cause my gender dysphoria to spike and ensure that the only swimsuits I wear must come with a proper old lady skirt (so sexy). Unfortunately, that means I'm also stuck with a common physiological response that many cis gender men experience upon waking: morning wood. I finally sucked up the necessary courage to embarrass myself and asked my endocrinologist about this. She assured me that this was somewhat common. Apparently it's a signal from the lizard part of my brain that I have no control over. Still it's quite disconcerting to start a day in this decidedly unladylike manner. My vaginoplasty can't happen soon enough.

Number 138

A Birthday Tale

 So this happened the other day. January 9th to be precise; which, coincidentally, happens to be my birthday. It was 7:00 AM, and I had just woken up. Bleary-eyed and wanting to stay under the warm covers just a little bit longer, I nonetheless stood up - I had an obligation at 7:30 I needed to get ready for. The next thing I know, I'm laying on the floor at the foot of my bed fuzzily trying to make sense of, well... anything. I had passed out to the point that even my bladder let go. I felt tingly all over, I had the shakes, and I felt incredibly weak, as well as vaguely nauseous. My partner put in a call to 911.

Here's what I knew as I lay on the floor, taking hesitant sips of water and waiting for the EMTs to arrive. As part of my hormone replacement therapy (HRT), I take a drug called spironolactone ("spiro" for short), because it inhibits the production and distribution of testosterone in my body, which, in turns, causes "feminizing" effects. Unfortunately, it was originally developed to help treat those folks with high blood pressure, which I don't have. As a result, I have grown used to the light-headedness I often feel when I go from laying down to standing. I will grab a hold of whatever's nearby, and after a few seconds the feeling predictably goes away. Obviously, in my foggy state upon waking, I had neglected to brace myself when I got out of bed. Simple, right? Wrong. This time there was a little more to it.

You see, over the past 2.5 months I have been hardcore dieting. In that time I have lost approximately 40 lbs. (It's OK if you take a moment and say, "You go, girl!"). I have done this, in part, by pushing the parameters of my diet plan, as it turns out, to dangerous levels. In short, I was eating even less than I was supposed to. I knew I shouldn't be doing that, but stepping on the scale and seeing a lower number each time proved to be intoxicating. Also, I stopped being vigilant about ensuring that I was getting enough water each day. Plus, I was doing my best to maintain my pre-diet workout despite a drop off in available energy.

When the EMTs arrived the first thing they discovered was that my blood pressure was really low. The next thing they discovered was that my dehydrated blood vessels - very shy at the best of times - couldn't be accessed. Oh well, off to the ER then. I wish I could tell you how exciting the ride was, but that would be a lie. I may not have been unconscious, but I surely wasn't very alert. In any event, I can cross "ride in an ambulance" off my bucket list.

Long story short (or in my case, short story getting too long, time to nip it in the bud), I was extremely dehydrated, my current dosage of spiro was still based on my old weight, and I was completely fatigued from my extreme dieting. After a few scans to rule things out, as well as a tasty bag of IV fluids, they kicked me out (well... they discharged me). Since then, my prescription has been amended, and I'm being more prudent/less fanatical when it comes to my diet plan. And water - I'm drinking plenty of water. All in all, I was never in serious danger, but it was scary enough in the moment. On the bright side, I'll always remember what I did for my 55th birthday.

Postscript: This all took place at the same ER/hospital where Rebecca died one weekend, almost five years ago; but that was only mildly disconcerting. The point I wish to make concerns nursing care. On the day Rebecca passed, one memory that I choose to hold on to is the care she received from the ICU nurses assigned to her. Though she was never conscious, they treated her with kindness and respect. They spoke to her and explained things to her as they did the things they needed to do. They were exceedingly professional, but they never lost sight of Rebecca's humanity. It was an act of love, and I remain as grateful for it today, as I did back on that horrible day. In my case last Saturday, I was only there for a minor, very solvable problem; but my nurse treated me with the same level of professionalism and kindness. Of course, Rebecca herself was a nurse, so I'm a bit biased, but I just gotta say, "Nurses rock."

Number 137

A Playlist for DJT or Don't Let the Door Hit Your Ass on the Way Out

Did you realize I loathe Donald Trump? Have I made that clear yet? After the insurrectionist anarchy of January 6th, fueled by his narcissistic, election fraud wet dreams, and lit by the match of his inflamed rhetoric; I decided to put together a little playlist in his honor as the civilized people of this country get ready to celebrate seeing his tail lights fade away in the distance.

Won't Get Fooled Again  The Who "...Cause I know that the hypnotized never lie."

I'm a Loser  The Beatles "I'm a loser, and I'm not what I appear to be..."

War Pigs  Black Sabbath (with very slight editorial revisions from me): "Day of judgement, God is calling. On [his] knees, the war pig crawling. Begging mercy for [his] sins. Satan laughing, spreads his wings." (Okay, a tad dark, I admit, but have I explained how much I despise this man?)

Don't Go Away Mad  Motley Crew "Don't Go Away Mad... Just Go Away"

Blackened  Metallica "Fire is the outcome of hypocrisy. Darkest potency in the exit of humanity. Color our world blackened. Blackened."

Liar Three Dog Night (Uhh.. I think the title says it all.)

Crazy  Guns 'n' Roses "I said you're crazy, oh you're crazy, you know you're crazy. Well, you're crazy. You know you're crazy, oh, you know you are. Bring it down. You're fuckin' crazy." (Redundant perhaps, but maybe by the end, he'd finally get the point.)

Positively 4th Street  Bob Dylan "I wish that for just one time you could stand inside my shoes, and just for that one moment I could be you. Yes, I wish that for just one time you could stand inside my shoes. You'd know what a drag it is to see you."

Gimme Some Truth  John Lennon "I've had enough of watching scenes of a schizophrenic egocentric paranoid prima donna. Just give me the truth, just give me some truth.

We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together  Taylor Swift  (Once again, the title says it all)

(I Hate) Everything About You  Ugly Kid Joe (Again, fairly self-explanatory)

And, of course, the all-time favorite when some asshole get's his comeuppance...

Na Na Hey Hey, Kiss Him Goodbye  Steam (Go ahead and start singing the chorus now, it feels good.)

See ya later Donnie, you slimy piece of excrement. [fart noise]

Number 136

My Ersatz Life

 ersatz: 1. (of a product) made or used as a substitute, typically an inferior one, for something else; 2. not real or genuine.

A few posts ago (AtRP #133: Laying Low or I've Gone AWOL), I tried to explain why I've disappeared off so many different radars. It was a short post - not intentionally - but after one paragraph, I couldn't get any further. After three days, I decided to publish it as it was because the rest of what I wanted to write remained blocked. In its own way, that episode of writer's block exemplified what was going on in my life - a serendipitous coincidence, if you will. Believe me, I'm not clever enough to come up with a plan like that on purpose. In any event, I've decided to try again. There are so many of you who deserve an explanation as to why I've been ignoring my responsibilities.

The short explanation goes something like this: Depression, Gender Dysphoria, and Covid, when mixed together in equal shares, is a potent motherfucker. And, I guess, as far as any discussion about the cause of my disappearance is concerned, that about sums it up.

But it doesn't get to why I've felt the need to abandon my family, my friends, and my responsibilities so completely. Really, the heart of the matter is self-preservation. The circumstances of my current life are such that I had to choose between my sanity or closing myself off from everyone to live an ersatz life - an inferior life that vaguely resembles my old one, but with precious little spark or joy present. I chose to protect myself. I can't help but wonder if I made the correct choice.

Let me give you a few examples and maybe what I'm trying to say will make more sense.

1. I have always really hated talking on the phone. It's almost, but not quite, phobic. I can do it when I need to, and I'm not bad handling business over the phone if I have to, but I really don't like it. Heck, I don't even communicate with my mother as often as I should because of my distaste for talking on the phone. If I have something here in town to accomplish, I'm just as likely to drive across town and handle it in person as I am to pick up the phone and handling the same thing it in a fraction of the time.

What's that have to do with right now? Well, as much as I dislike phone calls, I fucking hate Zoom meetings. I don't find them "mildly annoying" as most people do. I seriously loathe them. "Bob, you need to unmute;" "Do you have the login info?;" or the jiggling screen when someone's kid or dog decides to join a meeting drive me up a fucking wall. Rational? Perhaps not, but that's the way it feels. They are an inferior form of group communication. I really miss gathering together to work on things. Or getting together with friends and family. And don't even get me started on virtual therapy sessions...

2. Everything's closed. I'm a weird kind of introvert. While I do derive energy from being alone, I enjoy being alone among a group of people. Usually this means I'm working on stuff at the local coffee shop. It's a wonderful environment, filled with wonderful people that's been shut off from me for the last ten months. They are open for take out, but that's just a tease. You barely get to say "Hi", and you're out the door. Definitely a substandard coffee shop experience. My solution? I don't go in at all. It hurts too much not being able to stay. On the other hand, I'm so fucking sick of my house I just want to spit. Now that it's winter, it's only gotten worse.

3. There are a few specific things, too. Managing dysphoria when all you can really do is lay around the house is really hard. So too, is having gender confirmation surgery canceled six days beforehand - seemingly out of the blue - because my weight was too high. Ultimately, this was caused by a very avoidable communication mistake. I believe my particular case has become a "teachable moment" for the professionals managing my care. Whoopee! I'm famous. I'd rather have the vagina.

4. Then there's my diet that's basically supervised starvation. The good news is I've lost the weight I needed to. The bad news is the gnawing hunger I feel almost constantly as a result. Not to mention the overwhelming feeling of fatigue that accompanies the dietary program I'm on. It has left my affect flatter than a corn field in Illinois. Except for the hormonal medication that I'm on that also lowers my blood pressure. Every time I stand up, I experience a head rush. I'm left feeling winded after walking a single flight of stairs. Really inspirational stuff. trust me.

5. And finally, Trump's two month long, post election temper tantrum. 

What's a depressive, famished and fatigued, liberal trans woman, who's trying to navigate the gender confirmation process supposed to do under these circumstances? This one chose to live an inferior, less risky life for the time being. I'm far from proud of it, but I've learned over a lifetime of trial and error that I need to pay attention to myself when I'm feeling fragile, scared and wounded. I keep thinking that the time for my re-emergence is just around the corner, but that particular moment has proven difficult to pin down. Hopefully, I'll see you soon.