Latest Posts by pamprinninja - Page 4

Hell hath no fury like a woman whose mother!@#$ing bangs were just sucked into the wrong end of the mother!@#$ hairdryer, goddammit

Yet another night terror

The fever dreams continue; alas, taking a turn for the worse. Last night's dream featured my spouse and I perambulating through a cave filled with snow; I kicked ideally at a pile of snowflakes, only for some kind of hag to burst out from underneath and tackle me into what I knew to be a very, fatally deep pit.

Then came the screaming; and waking, heart racing.

I don't know what's going on right now - I keep ascribing these sorts of negative impacts to work stress and ill health - but the effects feel disproportionate to the stressors. Hopefully either I can get to the bottom of things soon, or else they ease up; because this is exhausting.

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!

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.

John Walker in The Falcon And The Winter Soldier.

Unexpected HRT side-effect #14

I have a lot of insecurity about is my hairline. I am, in retrospect, very lucky; I had very thick hair growing up, and even though it thinned over the years, I avoided the male-pattern baldness that struck my siblings. That’s no meager blessing for a trans woman that began her journey late in life.

However; at the time I began my transition, it had thinned extensively; especially at the peak. This really didn’t do any favors for my self-consciousness at the time.

Now, strictly speaking, some level of hair restoration is not uncommon with HRT; however, it’s far from guaranteed, and there’s no set timeline in which it might happen. After a year, I felt like very little had changed (which I attributed to the original loss being caused by damage, and not years of testosterone poisoning).

Imagine my surprise then at seeing an older picture of myself, and realizing that the problem then was a lot more severe than it is now. It’s a very difficult thing to gauge, but it feels like maybe a few long-dormant follicles have sprung back to life!

More generally, it seems that many of the hair-related side effects of HRT just take a long, long time to kick in. I had some hairs on my shoulders and upper arms; and as they were still present six months into my HRT regimen, I planned on having them removed. I recently discovered that they seem to have mainly disappeared of their own accord; so evidently I just need to be patient about these things!

25g

I’ve written before about how I administer my estradiol in form of a fortnightly intramuscular injection. The chief benefit is that it offers the greatest degree of bioavailability; but at the cost of... you know, routinely poking myself.

I actually use two different needles. There is a large, 18g needle for drawing the medication from the vial (because you want a large needle when pulling liquid into the syringe); and a 23g needle for injecting (because the smaller the needle, the less discomfort it causes going in).

Thankfully, the needles are color-coded; and over time, I learned to recognize them. When I’m having blood drawn, it’s with an 18g (which is why the “You’ll feel a sharp pinch” speech has some merit to it). One time the technician used a 23g needle (maybe my vein was inaccessible that day; maybe it was from personal preference) - I barely felt it going in!

(I think next time I’m getting blood work done, I’m going to ask them to use a 23g...)

I’m fascinated by vaccinations, because they give the same “You’ll feel a poke” talk but honestly, there’s hardly an sensation at all compared to my routine injections. I looked up the spec sheet and discovered they are using 25g needles; and the last time I saw my endocrinologist I requested they proscribe me some to test with.

Anyway, this is a very long-winded way of saying that I got to try out a 25g needle today and honestly, it was such an improvement - there was no pain popping it in! I do have to be a bit more careful now as depressing the syringe plunger required a lot more effort (I assume estradiol cypionate is a bit more viscous than whatever medium vaccines sit in); and that has to still be done in a very controlled way.

All the same though: great experience; would recommend!

Dose two: addendum

I feel like I might have spoken too soon on my COVID vaccine side effects dying down; I’m now four days post-hoc and it feels like I still have some issues (muscle aches and swollen glands on the injection side; feverishness if I overexert myself).

It’s physically irritating, mentally debilitating, and it only fuels my anger more towards the sum group of people inflamed this situation for their own selfish reasons.

(I will also add: a couple of years ago, the spouse and I caught a very strange, persistent cold virus; the lymph nodes in my upper torso and neck flared up like nobody’s business and remained that way for almost eight to ten weeks.

It scared the hell out of me, as that kind of persistent swelling is generally associated with far worse ailments; and I was still in my passive ideation phase at the time and was pretty convinced that This Was It. Thankfully it went away on its own; but in retrospect, I’m realizing that this episode might be another unprocessed issue I now have to unpack and deal with.)

Dysphoria

After receiving our second COVID vaccine doses, my spouse, daughter and I all experienced side effects. Now, there isn’t an objective way to measure a person’s discomfort; but subjectively, it appears that I had a better time of things than they did.

Of course, this might not be accurate. I may be female now, but the majority of my life was spent operating under the rule of male gender norms. One such unspoken rule was that bearing one’s discomfort stoically was admirable, and complaining unseemly; and I internalized that.

(It is therefore entirely possible that we experienced equal degrees of malaise; but I sought to downplay mine.)

There is also a growing body of evidence to suggest that the side-effects are hitting XX chromosome-holders harder - possibly resulting from some kind of interaction between estrogen and the immune system.

(Alas, I could not test this theory as I was almost at the end of my estradiol cycle when we got our booster shots; and even then, my cycle only superficially emulates the far more complex interactions of the real thing.)

Whatever the case may be... It felt like another unwanted and unneeded reminder that despite legally changing my name, changing my pronouns, adopting a new wardrobe and updating my appearance, engaging in all manner of medical treatments... That I am, and always will be, a woman with an asterisk at the end of that word.

Maybe one day I’ll make peace with that fact... but not today.

Dueling thoughts

Alas, though a known quantity, the spouse, daughter and I are all experiencing side effects from our second COVID vaccine dose. It’s the usual suspects - chills, fever, muscle aches, injection site soreness. It’s on par with getting hit with a really bad cold - much worse than one normally would expect from a vaccination; but manageable.

Mentally, it’s not been great. Every sting, every twinge reminds me that this is happening; and that gives the very irrational and truculent part of my psyche - the part where my wounded, child self lives - reason to fire up.

I came back last night from an errand; and having arrive home, just sat in the car and sobbed. In that moment, I was able to watch the two halves of my - child and adult - argue in real time:

“Why did they put this in me?” “Because it’s good for us. It will protect us, and others.” “Please, please take it out. Please.”

Adult me knows that this is undeniably the right course of action; for myself, for my family, for others, and ultimately for the entire human population. This is the only humane way we have out of this crisis.

Child me does not care; this suffering was forced upon her (even if only be necessity), and she rejects it wholeheartedly. It’s probably going to be at least a good week before she quells down; and in the meantime, I can expect plenty more crying fits and other associated behaviors.

More generally - this far from unique to myself; but I have so much anger for the people that mishandled the pandemic, irresponsibly exacerbated matters, damn near killed my best friend and most certainly killed millions of others. Lives were stolen; for the rest of us, precious time. I don’t know if it will come, but there most assuredly needs to be a reckoning when all of this is said and done.

Bags

Last week I stepped into the bedroom and there was a Ziploc bag on the floor. This was more than a little confusing, as they nominally live in the kitchen, on top of our refrigerator.

My best guess was that either my wife or I picked one up, absentmindedly brought it into the room, and left it there.

Fast forward to last night: it is perhaps 3 or 4am; and there is a strange rustling coming from the foot of the bed. I get up to investigate, at which point our youngest cat rockets out of the room... Leaving behind ten Ziploc bags, full of tiny teethmarks.

I love her so much... But she is absolutely, quantifiably, an idiot.

Dose two

Well; three weeks later, and we got our second COVID vaccine doses.

Although I wish this was not the case, I went from zero to full-on flashback in bout twenty minutes; and expect to remain in some variation of that mindset for the next few days.

I would like to stress for the new reader: this is not a side effect of the vaccine, and I strongly recommend that (where medically possible) everyone get it. This is purely my past history interacting with current events.

On the bright side, in a little over two weeks I will start treatment with a new EMDR therapist. I am very much hoping that goes a long way towards bringing these sorts of undesirable episodes under control.

Tests

Every six months I have my hormone levels tested. I take a lab order from my endocrinology office, pop into a local clinic, have blood drawn, and see my endocrinologist a week later to review the results.

It was during today’s review that we discovered the lab had missed a test. It was okay - my provider was still able to make sense of the results.

However, I did give the clinic a call to find out what happened. I really, really like them - they are very pleasant to deal with, there’s no waiting, and their pricing is very reasonable.

However, this is the third time something like this has happened; so I gave them a call to figure out what the problem was and what I could do to avoid it in future.

Her: “Hi, this is [the laboratory]. How can I help you today?” Me: “Hi, this is Lauren. I think I might be missing a test result?” Her: “Well let’s see if we can find it for you, Ms. Lauren.”

I already like this person - calling me ‘miss’ instantly melts my heart!

Her: “Can I have your date of birth?” Me: “Sure, it’s- oh god, I just remembered I’m forty again.” Her: *Laughter* Her: “That’s okay! Welcome to the club.”

Seriously, this is one of the best personal interactions I’ve had all day!

Her: “So what test do you think you’re missing, Ms. Lauren?” Me: “Uh... testosterone.” Her: “Oh. Oh!” Me: “Yeah... Probably the last one you would have guessed!” Her: *More laughter*

It took some digging through their records, but this wonderful person helped me figure out that my lab order did indeed have a testosterone reading on it, and that this was overlooked. (Most likely because the lab order is a piece of paper that the blood draw technician is required to read and then re-enter into a terminal; there’s much lost between finger and screen!)

Going forward, I’ll be keeping a much closer eye on which tests were ordered and what was actually entered into the system - hopefully that way nothing else gets missed!

Scars

I should probably preface this with a content warning for discussion of self-harm.

I’m left-handed; when I’m receiving a vaccination or having blood drawn, I will normally offer up my right arm - as was recently the case when I received my first COVID vaccine dose.

While staring at my arm in the mirror, I realized that I had self-harm scars that are still very visible; and based on their appearance, very obviously self-inflicted. (This is not the case elsewhere - they have either faded, or are normally hidden.)

I’m mortified, as it means the provider that administered my dose absolutely saw them (and will again, as I tend to get pretty mean injection site pain and I really don’t want to experience that in my dominant arm).

More generally though, it got me thinking. The reason I struggle with others seeing what I did to myself is not because I’m ashamed, but because on some level I feel that my suffering was not legitimate - that I hurt myself not because I was truly in pain, but for attention. An imitation of the struggles of others.

There isn’t really a good answer here; just another piece of the puzzle to make sense of.

Cold: addendum 2

I can’t believe I’m saying this, but the phlegm from the damned cold I had six weeks ago is still present and still interfering in my singing practice. And now there’s a new issue: when I hit that A4 / B4 danger zone, now my voice cracks! I thought the weird Chewbacca noise was bad...

There’s not much to do but persist; but it feels like a significant portion of my lessons to date have consisted of trying to work around this issue and it’s really, really beginning to wear on me!

More good things

Last night, for the fourth time in as many weeks, I was able to provide a compassionate ear for someone that desperately needed to be heard.

Now more than ever, the world needs kindness; and I’m so glad that I was able to make my own small contribution in this regard.

Dose one

Yesterday the wife, daughter and I got our first COVID vaccine doses. We go back in three weeks for the second dose. There haven’t been any real side effects barring the usual sore arm and some very minor feverishness / muscle aches.

(I have been lead to understand that the second dose may result in stronger side effects, which makes sense. An older fellow at the clinic told me in passing conversation that thanks to his second dose, he had experienced hot flashes and was now highly sympathetic to the plight of menopausal women.

This got a giggle from me; when I started HRT, my estradiol injections were spaced too far apart and as a result I would effectively experience menopausal symptoms. I replied with “I know how that goes!” and left it at that...)

Mentally however, I am struggling a bit. I will preface this with two items:

I am pro-science and pro-vaccine. I understand that no vaccine can be 100% safe; however, the odds of something going terribly wrong are far, far lower than if you contract COVID.

I had a very, very bad flashback the other night; one that practically set a new bar in terms of intensity; and I’m still feeling some of the effects from that days later.

So: I get very upset when I perceive my bodily integrity (or that of people I care about) being violated. The key factor is my consent. For instance:

At the end of my visa medical, I received two vaccinations. I took offense at (a) not being informed beforehand that this would happen, (b) the administering provider’s refusal to explain what they were for, and (c) the generally dehumanizing treatment I had been exposed to that day. (I have no problem with receiving vaccines as a prerequisite of entry to the US; it was how the process unfolded that was the issue.)

I have never had chickenpox, and elected to receive the varicella vaccine. Everything went smoothly, and I’m glad I made that choice.

To bring us full-circle:

I want to do my part to get us out of this pandemic; and that means being vaccinated. However, I cannot shake the feeling that this is being forced upon me - not by the nebulous puppet-masters that anti-vaxxer conspiracists like to point to, but by the various government institutions that prioritized partisan politics over protecting people, and the self-same people that prioritized their right to endanger others else instead of covering their stupid fleshy talk circles with a bit of cloth and knocking off the partying for a while.

It doesn’t sit well.

Alas, there’s not a whole lot I can do about this as the requirement to be vaccinated still stands; but it does rather mean that I have yet another reason (and I already had plenty to begin with) to intensely dislike the swathe of selfish misanthropes revealed during the course of this crisis.

Clint Eastwood

Last night my spouse hit me up with one of their best impressions. With the most gravely, world-weary voice they could muster, they said the following:

“I want to do a Clint Eastwood impression, but... ...Turns out you need to know... ...Some of his lines.”

I love them so much!

Signal

Several friends of mine have recently switched to Signal as the messaging app of choice; in significant part due to privacy concerns with other messaging apps (specifically, those owned and operated by Facebook).

Now, I’m not hip to the intricacies of said privacy concerns; however, after using Signal for a bit, I will note the following:

Pressing the enter key does not send your message (unlike, say, WhatsApp). It just adds a line break. As someone that writes particularly long messages, I cannot stress what a game-changer this was for me.

It has the most comprehensive spell check dictionary I have ever seen in any application, ever! I cannot stress how tremendously frustrating it is for me to use a word like ‘tremendous’ in other applications and have it redlined! (Point in question: Signal recognizes ‘redlined’ as a word; Firefox does not.)

So: if, like me, you write ridiculously long messages filled with needlessly prolix vocabulary, perhaps Signal is the app for you.

️ Seventeen years, with many more to come! ❤️

HAPPY ANNIVERSARY TO MY WIFE! SEVENTEEN YEARS MARRIED AND COUNTING!!!

Sleeping arrangements: addendum 2

I have been reliably informed that my previous illustration of the idiosyncrasies of flashback-driven sleeping positions did not sufficiently emphasize my spouse's ample biceps; I have therefore attempted to rectify this issue as follows:

Paste

Yesterday my daughter and I were talking about tomato salsa. That discussion veered in a very strange direction, and is repeated here verbatim for posterity:

Me: “Did you know salsa is technically a fruit salad?”

The Daughter: “No it isn’t! Salads have leaves... and stuff... in them.”

Me: “Then how do you explain tuna salad?”

The Daughter: “I don’t even know what that is, but it sounds gross!”

Me: “It’s just tuna mixed with mayonnaise. You know, like in sandwiches.”

The Daughter: “Mayonnaise”, (pause to summon up indignance),"...is a paste!”

Me: “I think the maybe word you’re looking for is ‘emulsification’?”

The Daughter: “I don’t know what that means. All I know is: mayonnaise is made of two solids; and one of them is grease. And grease... is a paste.”

I never thought I would see, firsthand and in my own household, Millennials killing the mayonnaise industry!

(Original from gifbuckybarnes; via feed-the-roses.)

Good thing

I did a good thing today.

It makes me think... maybe I have value after all.

Phone

Today I went bra-shopping at the mall. At one point I put my phone down and thought to myself:

"This is just like that one coworker of yours - the one that leaves his phone laying around all the time. Glad I'm not like that!"

It was therefore inevitable that a few minutes later, I realized I no longer had my phone on me. Fortuitously, some kind soul had handed it into security; which I knew the second I walked into the security office as it was sitting right there on their reception desk.

What follows is, verbatim, the conversation that took place between myself and the security officer on duty:

Me: "Hello! I was going to ask if anyone handed in an iPhone 7 in a black case, but that appears to be it right there. Probably you want to verify it's mine; so I think you'll find the unlock code is ████."

Security: "Ah. Well. Can you tell me what the image is" - proceeds to hold phone very close to face, like a hand of poker - "...on the lock screen?"

Me: "Yes; that will be a picture of me and my daughter."

Security: "..."

Me: "...Of course, I look very different now. I don't have a beard, for one thing."

Security: "..."

Me: "..."

Security: "What was that code again?"

Anyway, I got my phone back!

Me

And the photoshoot results are in!

It's not often I do something like this - I'm still very self-conscious about my appearance - but it's nice once in a while to see how far I've come.

Cold: addendum 1

I still have a cold. I'm still trying to practice my singing and it's still being impinged upon because of my symptoms.

Currently I have some phlegm in my throat; and it's fine and well until I get up to A4 and then it starts to resonate, and I make the most ungodly noise that sounds not entirely unlike Chewbacca trilling.

It just so happens that I'm trying to practice in the region of A4 / B4; so to say that this is inconvenient would be an understatement. Likewise, there isn't really a solution - clearing my throat might help for a hot second, but the problem very quickly reasserts itself.

I know I just need to be patient and wait for this to clear but... I don't want to! I just want to sing...

Sandwich

I have friends that are LGBT and (for reasons that are fairly obvious) refuse to eat at Chick-fil-A. However, they have family that continue to do so; and there's been an ongoing conversation on how said friends might convince said family to desist.

During that discussion, the subject of alternatives came up; and how the competing Popeye's chain serves a superior fried chicken sandwich. I wouldn't know - I've never eaten at Popeye's - but there's one in the area and I was exhorted to try it out.

That's exactly what I did - and what I can say is:

I'm not a huge fan of drive-through, but at least my voice training must be working because I got a "Will that be all, ma'am?"... That made my day!

It was a pretty good sandwich! Definitely a viable alternative to Chick-fil-A's; and also doesn't come tinged with the baggage of homophobia.

Would definitely go again!

Office space: addendum

Yep... yesterday's workout did a real number on my girl muscles. I've got minor strains in my forearms, shoulders, and weirdly, thighs (which is what I get for trying to be a human jack, I guess).

I realize now that I'm reluctant to tell the men in my life "I'm sorry, I cannot physically carry this; you need to do it for me" because:

It feels sexist;

Despite all the physical changes I've experienced this year, my frame is still the same - and I worry that people will extrapolate from this that I'm still equally physically capable.

I don't know what the solution is, but I need to figure something out before too long because I'm getting really tired of these injuries...

Office space

My company has decided to rearrange our current layout; so I went into our location today for the purpose of conveying the contents of my current office to my new office.

Amongst other items, this includes some solid wooden shelves and a two-piece desk. These are not light items.

In the past, I've been able to move these things myself (albeit with great effort and probably minus OSHA approval); brute-forcing them onto a dolly and wheeling them to their destination.

Not this time around though! I just didn't have the strength. I was able to get some of the smaller pieces by myself, but when it came to the main part of the desk I had to rope our network engineer in for assistance.

(And he made it look so easy! At one point he had to take the weight of the whole thing while I moved and it didn't phase him in the slightest!)

It's fascinating because I don't actually feel, in any way, shape or form, weaker; but the evidence absolutely speaks for itself. As I've noted before - there's a serious danger that I will injure myself because I can't estimate my own strength properly anymore.

In addition, I ran into an older member of our organization. The last time we met I was in a dress, and he gave a sort of weird half-chuckle / smile that could be interpreted as "Good for her!" or "That's hilarious".

This time around, I said hi and he responded with "Yes, sir".

I can't tell yet whether he's just struggling to adjust or holds some actual, maladjusted views; but now I'm kind of wondering.

"Once is happenstance. Twice is coincidence. The third time it's enemy action." - Auric Goldfinger

Guess I will wait for a third time and see what happens!