Unexpected HRT Side-effect #4: Addendum

Orikan: *Rewinds time*

Trazyn: "...A single thread of fact within this tapestry of fiction you have woven."

Orikan: "BASTARD, BASTARD, BASTARD!"

"Stop laughing Trazyn, I have a Gf, she's just from another dynasty"

Unexpected HRT side-effect #2

I can’t really think of a good way of putting this, so: my nipples have rotated!

I know this because I have piercings that precede HRT, and they were fully horizontal when they were put in; now, they slant inwards at almost 45º.

It’s all good - they still look beautiful - but I have to wonder if they will remain this way forever or if they might level out again as the girls fill out...

Darker

If my writing has taken a slight turn towards the darker of late, it’s because of this:

I have a tremendous aptitude for self-denial; specifically when it comes to convincing myself that I am not worthy of focus and attention (and thus by extension my concerns, challenges, and issues).

This is of course most notably exemplified by how I managed to deny the obvious regarding my transgender status for so many years.

When I did finally come to that conclusion however, I was at least thankful that I had escaped a lot of the vicious side-effects that other trans individuals faced: crippling dysphoria; self-loathing; depression; a propensity for being predated on, and so on.

What I’m now recognizing is that I did experience many of these things; but could not express them in terms that made sense to myself (let alone other people). This is a good thing; but it also means exploring those thoughts and memories, and I do a great deal of that work here.

So: nothing to worry about here; just digging through an old Pandora’s Box!

Well woman

A few week’s ago I had an annual check-up; the first in two decades. (Hooray for America’s dysfunctional healthcare system!) I wasn’t particularly concerned ahead of time; but then I received an automated reminder from my provider that had the appointment listed as a “Well Woman Exam”. This lead me down a bit of a rabbit hole as to exactly what that entailed; and then I proceeded to freak the fuck out. Even now, I’m not entirely sure what the problem was - there was definitely some anxiety centered on the more intimate aspects of this kind of exam; but having spent a significant amount in analogous settings (e.g. laser hair removal), I didn’t think this was the issue. (There’s also the matter of my PTSD cranking up in some medical settings; but again, there doesn’t seem to be a particular rhyme or reason as to why and when that fires off... or doesn’t.) A friend suggested that perhaps the issue stemmed from having to speak to my provider, openly and honestly, about my transgender status. My provider is a very nice fellow, and has a fantastic bedside manner (something of a rarity in the US); but even so, transitioning is in many respects a form of magic, and pulling back the curtain on how the trick is performed is not fun. When the actual day rolled around, my heart was racing; and I had to apologize repeatedly to the nurse practitioner for my ridiculous pulse. Thankfully everybody was very understanding; and my provider made the necessary conversations about as straightforward and easy as they could be. (It actually turned out that between various changes in recommended screening guidelines and where I am in my transition, that there’s basically nothing to screen for for the next five years or so; so no poking or prodding there.) I did elect to get caught up on some immunizations while I was there; including getting the HPV vaccine (which is now recommended for everyone, up to the age of forty-five). The administering nurse was perfectly nice; but her technique was slow and methodical (not what you want when getting needled); and the HPV vaccine in particular stung something fierce (which I guess is a known issue with whatever they put in it). In the end, everything worked out okay; but I worry that there will be more of this sort of thing in the near future - I’m out, and as far as the majority of big ticket items are concerned, transitioned; but I feel far from confident in my newfound place in the world as a woman or my ability to pass, and it’s going to be quite some time until that changes.

My friend has a new album in the works; and released a preview of the title song: Sleepyhead. It’s an achingly beautiful piece; go take a listen.

The great chain

(Not to be confused with The Great Chain Of Being or The Great Chain as envisaged by Bioshock antagonist Andrew Ryan; or even Fleetwood Mac’s The Chain (although that is pretty great)!)

The start of my transition was... furtive. I imagine this is a fairly common phenomenon - trans individuals trying to build up a head of steam, as it were, before actually coming out.

In my case, I let my hair down; replaced my wardrobe with somewhat androgynous items from the women‘s section; began the process of facial laser hair removal; and painted my nails.

And it worked! These were all major milestones for me; but ones that went relatively unnoticed. (The one exception were my nails, which ended up breaking the ice with three particularly attentive colleagues.)

The first person to put all the pieces together was a barista at Starbucks. It was fascinating to experience: he had just taken our order, and was most of the way through the sentence “Have a good day-” before his eyes locked on to the crystal bracelet I was wearing and smoothly segued into “-ladies!” without missing a beat.

Later on I discovered that one of his fellow baristas was trans. At the time I really struggling with summoning the confidence to be out; and it was this particular barista that, by example, lead me to the solution: stop caring what other people think.

(Placing too much emphasis on the expectations of others is how I got into this mess in the first place!)

I make a point of thanking the people that help and inspire me (whether they are aware of it or not); and was both surprised and delighted to discover that I was now the fourth trans individual that this girl had aided.

Now that I am quite out to the world, I’m trying to pay this kindness forwards. There are trans girls I’ve run into in the wild, and I always compliment them; trans guys that have picked just the most awesome names and deserve to hear it!

There’s a young trans girl that I’ve taken under my wing, and I try to pass to her and her friends the knowledge that I’ve accumulated so far in my own journey.

I spoke with my friend Abigail about this (another individual that has done so much to help me personally); and she made the observation that one of the beautiful things about the trans community is its close-knit nature; how those that have already walked the path offer guidance to those behind them, and so on, and so on.

This is the great chain I speak of: stretching from past to future; each link a trans individual, clasped hand in hand with those before and those after them. I am so appreciative of those that paved the way ahead of me; and could not be more pleased to do my part and shepherd those that follow.

I am absolutely astonished that someone else knows this song; let alone in the year 2024!

(That bass line! The audacity to rhyme ‘empire’ with ‘vampire’ in a mock-Transylvanian accent! Absolutely spectacular on all fronts; 10/10, no notes!)

Song of the day is Bloodsucker by Paralyzed age teehee

Questionnaire

When I set up my MRI appointment, the scheduler needed me to answer a twenty-five point questionnaire. This is very understandable: an MRI machine is one of the most powerful magnetic devices an individual might interact with in their life; and if that individual happens to have in or about their person items that react strongly to a magnetic field, Consequences Might Ensue.

You can reasonably guess the sort of questions asked:

“Do you have a pacemaker?”

“Do you have any implanted electrodes, pumps, or catheters?”

“Do you have any artificial joints, plates, bone screws?”

Now this is all good and well - until we get to the use of contrast. Under some circumstances, patients can be injected with a special fluid that will highlight the inner workings of the area being imaged. This is generally harmless...

...Unless you a pregnant.

This is why the questions veer towards:

“Are you pregnant, or have reason to believe you might be pregnant?”

“When was your last menstrual period?”

I clocked pretty quickly why I was being asked these questions; and answered with “Definitely not” and “Never” in short order. “Never?”, responded the scheduler. “Yep; I can’t get pregnant and I’ve never had a period. Crazy, right?”

(I suppose I could have cited the time I had menstrual cramps; or perhaps the five days of rampant bleeding that followed the installation of a genital piercing during my younger days. I’m not sure this would have clarified matters any, however.)

Once everything was set up, my health system’s very fancy patient portal sprung into action; letting me know that I had... a pre-MRI questionnaire to fill out. I dutifully did so; trusting that providing a date of “N/A” was enough to get the point across.

Yesterday I had a phone call from a very nice scheduling person; reminding me that my appointment was coming up and covering a couple of last minute items. One of these was that she needed to know whether or not I might be pregnant; and if I happened to know the approximate date of my last menstrual period.

Again, I stated that the answer was “Never”, and she responded incredulously, and I gently explained that I was a trans woman and that as much as I would like to be the proud owner of my very own uterus, medical science hadn’t quite come that far yet.

I might come across as a touch bothered by the repeated inquiries in this area; but if so, it’s only because there seems to be a lack of communication inside the health system. (My medical record lists my trans status, but this data point isn’t taken into account when the questionnaire is presented; one can indicate that the question isn’t applicable, but this isn’t recorded.)

Truly, I would not be surprised if I get to my appointment and the very first thing they do is to inquire once again as to whether I might be pregnant...

There is however a silver lining in all this medical madness: every clerk, technician, nurse and doctor I’ve talked to in recent weeks apparently had no idea that I was anything other than a cis woman - and was surprised when it became necessary for me to inform them.

For someone that never thought she would pass, who still feels like she doesn’t pass: that’s kind of amazing.

Fever dreams

Between stress and a good old-fashioned rhinovirus, I've been having a lot of strange dreams; last night was no exception.

First, I dreamt that an Italian man was attempting to seduce me. (I'm not sure why my fevered brain opted for a Mediterranean origin - perhaps because I knew an incorrigible duo of Italian Lotharios in my younger years?)

Naturally, I rebuffed him - I'm a married woman!

Second, I dreamt that I was hurriedly pacing an unfamiliar street, with only an undersized towel to hide my modesty. I was of course then approached by several men with the intent to perpetrate a robbery at a gunpoint. (Most unpleasant stuff.)

Interestingly however: in both instances, I was incredibly aware that (a) I was trans, and (b) in the dreams themselves, fully physically transitioned (to the point that the aforementioned Casanova was mistakenly under the impression that I was cis).

Until now, my dreams have generally been modeled on my former identity and appearance; and it is both fascinating, and long overdue, to see them finally catch up!

Singing

An interesting part of the transition process is that it represents not only a kind of second, physical adolescence; but also a psychological one. You are afforded the opportunity to review your identity; cast aside the parts that are no longer relevant; and replace them with entirely new and different ones.

One manifestation of this phenomenon is that I continue to discover interests - some new, some old but hidden. Like singing.

Seven months or so into my new life, and I was on my way to see IRIS perform live in Philadelphia (an event that really deserves it’s own post). This made for an eight-hour drive; so I loaded up the USB drive in my car with music - including their new album - and set off.

Cruising through the hills of Pennsylvania, I found myself listening to the same two tracks; and in a first, I began singing along. (I am told that my starting range is very similar to that of IRIS front-man Reagan Jones, which is perhaps where part of the appeal lies.)

This went on to become a routine - whenever commuting, I would fire up the same two songs and sing along. Eventually I incorporated a number of other songs into the repertoire; in particular, Unknown, from Awakening.

(This is a song that has a great deal of personal meaning to me: from the day of release onward, it invoked an emotional response that I could not identify but wanted to experience again and again. In hindsight, it’s obvious: it had become an expression of my inner gender war.)

The song features some comparatively high notes that are simply outside of my current range; and while a year of offhand practice has brought me closer to them by sheer dint of brute force effort, they are still unattainable. Further progress would require professional intervention.

This being the case, I had my first singing lesson yesterday. I was incredibly nervous beforehand; but Chelsea, my instructor, did a great job of making me feel comfortable and otherwise being terrifically encouraging.

(It’s also worth noting that I did elect to cover my transgender status, as knowledge that I have what are fundamentally male vocal cords is rather relevant to the subject at hand. Her response - “Congratulations!” - is to me a shining example of how people should react to such news!)

Although I was not planning on it, Unknown has become our first practice song; and Chelsea fully believes I can extend my range sufficiently to cover those higher notes and more. To say that I cannot wait for our next session is an understatement!