Decidedly Obscure Human Complaints.

As I mentioned in my most recent post, I'm not able to update this as often as I really want to. I absolutely love blogging, but by the time I'm done with my graduate school tasks for the day, I become a collapsed puddle of human, incapable of uttering a single word. But I had to log on this once to share some incredibly exciting news. Earlier yesterday I learned that my insurance (through the marketplace) has preauthorized me FOR A HYSTERECTOMY IN EARLY AUGUST.  For over six years now I've been struggling through years of no insurance coverage as a student and then one trans-exclusive, discriminatory policy after another. Even as a federal employee. Yet finally, at long last, this is actually happening. It doesn't feel real yet, but I'm beyond ecstatic. I'm actually scheduled for surgery!  Whaaaa??? There are a gazillion risks reduced and benefits from having this done, one of which will be lowering my dose of testosterone post surgery, which is ...

Be forewarned: I am about to launch into a whiny spiel about how stressful it has been meeting with trans-unaware OB-GYNs while I'm insured in hopes that they won't a) refer to me as a "post-menopausal woman" and b) will, at the very least, listen to me about my preventative interest in an oophorectomy (removal of ovaries) and a hysterectomy (removal of the uterus). But before said spiel, a brief update is in order. As a reminder since it's been a minute, I am presently living in Maryland to complete my federal service "payback" as an NIH (National Institutes of Health) Undergraduate Scholarship post-baccalaureate (i.e. 4-year college graduate) research fellow. Throughout the duration of my payback I have been nervous about blogging after I signed a gazillion + 1 forms about not representing myself as the NIH or a federal employee. So, quick disclaimer before I proceed: I am not blogging on behalf of the NIH or as a federal employee. Alright, now w...

I had a pap smear on October 22nd, which I refer to as a "paptastic appointment of sedative-laden doom". The  first one I had was in January of 2009. I procrastinated the inevitable as long as I could muster, but the worry of not knowing what's up with my innards caught up with me and overrode the aversion. So I cracked, and decided 'fine, I'm uninsured, but I need to get my hormone levels checked and I need a pap smear. So just, go in, do it, and figure out the cost part of it later. My hormone levels are higher than they should be, so my doctor reduced my bi-weekly dose from 0.7 mL to 0.5 mL. Then in pap-ville, my doctor slotted our appointment as her first of the day. Learning from the last time I had this done, she injected me with a massive amount of pregnant lady sedative first thing (I scribbled the name of it down after my appointment, but have no idea where these scribbles are).

I woke up this morning trying hard not to feel anxiety about today's pap smear appointment. The last appointment was "successful" after being heavily sedated. And the two times I had attempted with doctors prior to that were fails. With the first attempt, after just a few minutes the doctor stopped and told me, "You know, we don't have to do this.", and, not anticipating it would be -that- awful, I agreed and we stopped. With the second attempt, I told the doctor about how horrible the first attempt was. She told me that since I'd never had intercourse, paps weren't necessary for me. Whether this was true or not, I liked the answer and rationalized that she was correct and ran with it. For years and years I accepted this logic and had resolved to never get a pap, ever - until I went in to meet my current doctor for the first time . Clearly, she's had a lot of experience with trans men avoiding the necessary health inevitable. Right off the bat...

On the 23rd, a Thursday, my dad and I bicycled together downtown, stopping for coffee as we do pretty much every morning. It's this fun, addictive routine that, to my surprise, has actually morphed me into a morning person. I'll get all giddy the night before about prepping my bicycle outfit and waking up to peddle.peddle.peddle , then relax and hang out for a bit before my 8am class or 10am class. It's messed up. I know it. After our peddling and coffee, I went in to the Social Security office right by 9am. Unlike the last time I meandered in , this time it was completely packed with people - so I whimpered internally and grabbed a number. Fortunate for me, the employee who had helped me the first time around was there at her window, so I chose a seat she'd hopefully spot me in. And when she finished up with the current individuals at her window, she waved me over. I thanked her profusely for making the whole process as painless as possible. She got my name updated...

I hit a vein yesterday during my bi-weekly injection for the first time since starting hormone therapy in '08. Everything was going to honky dory until I removed the needle - and immediately a faucet of blood turned on and welled up from the injection site. Surprised, I immediately dabbed it with an alcohol wipe, which was instantly soaked. The blood flowed down my thigh and dripped on to the floor. Once I had all of the blood soaked up, I noticed what appeared to be a partially swollen vein. Not knowing what else to do, I covered it with a bandage. Ahhhh ha, so this is what it's like to hit a vein , I thought. I would have been more anxious about this situation, but I remember bringing this concern up with my doctor before injecting for the first time. She reassured me that I don't need to fret if it happens; that I wouldn't die and nothing horrible should happen. My leg didn't hurt and I took the bandage off last night to discover that the vein was no longer...

My visit to the doctor last Friday wasn't as satisfying as I'd anticipated. Essentially, she's incredibly blunt and honest. She doesn't do the usual " don't worry " vague doctor shindig, but instead opts to tell me how it is. This is a good thing and I appreciate it, but, on the toss side, the news is rarely encouraging or what I'd prefer to hear. For example, I explained to her how I actually want to attempt to preserve a semblance of functioning and health in my reproductive organs throughout this process. She instantly assumed that I wanted to remain fertile (Gah! NO!), so I tried to clarify that I only care about not having them atrophy into my stomach or something - and, more importantly, to be able to function enough that they'll produce hormones and menstruate when I stop testosterone therapy. I suspect she's not used to necessarily caring about the preservation or monitoring of a trans guy's ovaries and uterus since, in most t...

I'm no longer feeling like the grime mopped off a slaughterhouse floor to make hot dogs. I'm not entirely the most energetic yet, but I'm definitely feeling my mind clicking back into action and my body feels like peddling around furiously, even in today's snow storm. This is a good thing. I canceled today's appointment with my hormone doctor after it dawned on me that my prescription allows for more refills. I'm not really hip to the prescribed medicine jive yet, see. Getting the hang of it. Still, I wanted an appointment for the prescription, but also to talk about my concerns surrounding a predicted buildup of endometrial tissue (which is usually shed during menstruation - I believe this most recent one was my last, or very near to last), especially during the first few years. I want to ask her about taking progesterone every so often to shed the excess endometrial tissue as a preventative measure. It's a bit tricky, trying to achieve a compromise ...

As I mentioned in my first post - and the entire reason it's taken me so long to start testosterone hormone therapy - I'm a bit of a prematurely aged safety nut. I've never tried alcohol (unless NyQuil counts). I've never tried recreational drugs. I'm vegan. I bicycle as my main form of transportation year-round. I try to work out every day. I weaning off sugar and soda pop. Moral of the story being, now that I have started hormone therapy, I've been very concerned about the immediate and long-term future here in regards to my uterus and ovaries. Despite having my transition plan that entails taking T for a max of 5 years, I'm anxious about increasing any long-term risks of liver damage or cancer of my completely unnecessary and obnoxious reproductive organs (uterus/endometrium, cervix, and/or ovaries). Hopefully I'm just being too cautious and there really isn't anything to worry about. Still, I am who I am, and this is what I do. The reality i...