It was bound to happen, right? I am sure there are those of you out there that read my journal but don't request to be added to my friend's list. Please, ask me for friend access! Also, it appears that I may have attracted some unwanted attention from a certain element that I am less excited about. Please, don't ask me for friend access!
So, now that I have moved I have a new bus route. It's good though because it's the same bus that takes me to work, home, and the University. Anyways, my bus driver is the same as my old route! They have apparently switched routes just recently and lo and behold he is now my driver again.
Well, this led to conversation and I am the very first stop of his route for the night so he sits there for about 15 minutes before we go anywhere. So, he gets out of the bus and we walk around the block a few times and chat.
"So, you see I am not a big bus driver, like most. I walk a lot, keep skinny." He's asian, so he speaks a bit fragmented...but not fragmented enough for the next part...
So I say to him, carrying the conversation, "Yeah, I used to be pretty big, but I've worked really hard this last year to get skinny again. Guess what I used to be?"
Now, this is entirely the wrong way to ask that question, I guess....
He answered, "A drag queen?".
He keeps walking, not understanding what he said wrong. I...am...floored...
"Oh, sorry. Did I say something wrong?"
"Um, you called me a drag queen... I was going to say I used to be 305 lbs. and now I am 203 lbs. Why did you say drag queen?"
"Oh, sorry. It's just your nails and the way your body is, and your hair and stuff."
OK, at this point I think there may have been other, better words he was searching for when he said that and picked the wrong one.
Frankly, I hadn't thought I was looking too far from male yet, but I guess there are other people out there who are seeing things I don't.
But, God in heaven...please don't ever call me a drag queen. Heck, I was dressed in guy clothes even (granted the pants are not the most masculine cut, but they were direct from the male shelf at the store).
Hmm, maybe I am starting to mess with people's heads. I guess it must be happening since he felt so compelled to squeeze that into the conversation he must have been giving it some thought.
As Alice said in Wonderland, "How peculiar."
Here I sit at 1:00 A.M. trying to fall asleep in a brand new apartment. Most of my stuff is still at my old place and I have decided to pay my rent to my old landlords a few weeks late because a) I need the money right now b) don't really care if they don't like it, by the end of the week I should be moved.
This new place holds so many more opportunities but I so miss my green lawn and the sound of children laughing across the street at the playground. I miss waking up to my alarm clock, and not to police sirens.
I should be thankful for all the pluses though. I pay no utilites, cable, or internet here. I also pay $520.00 less per month and my roommate is 100% completely OK with the fact that I am transgendered, even going so far as moving out of the private back room so that I would have a bigger closet and a full length wall mirror. I can start working on so many more things now, like my voice and I don't have to worry about my old landlords looming over me.
Yet, it's hard to look around my room and see my home. It's dirty, and the paint is chipping and it's hot...very hot... I've already worked miracles with the bathroom, stripping the fixtures and repainting them to accent the walls. Also, plastering the cracks and peels in the wall and repainting them. Soaking the floor in whatever I could find that was the most caustic substance...it needed it...
This will be home, I know it...I can feel it. This is where, as my roommmate says, 'New beginnings start'. Six days to my first class in nursing, a brand new apartment to start my life over again, caring neighbors and roommates who won't discriminate against me just because I wasn't born 'right'...
It will be home...
I brought it along...it being the pill container I received from that unnamed drugstore that said I was out of refills. On the label it clearly stated, 'Three (3) refills left before 03/11/2007'.
"Erica, I promise you I wasn't dosing myself...look at this. It shows that I was taking what I was supposed to and they said I had no refills. They...they didn't like me..."
She looked it over with a puzzled look on her face and said, "Well, we can send it somewhere else from now on. This isn't acceptable. I sent a letter to them that should cover six month's worth, do you need it moved?"
"Oh, no...that's alright, I moved my store of choice to the one downtown, same drugstore, but totally different people."
She apologized for them, in her ever so sweet way. She has a way that just makes her more suited to being a nurse than a doctor, she's so connected to the people around her.
We went through the usual questions, and I updated her on everything else that has happened since the last time we spoke.
Then, one blood draw later I was out the door and now I wait until next Thursday for the results of my blood test. I really feel like my testosterone level has gone up some, but maybe I am just getting over analytical. Surely, though, my estrogen level has gone up again. The first blood draw it was not traceable, and the second time it had gone to 120. Now, I think, we are hoping for about 200...we'll see.
Really, how dumb can I be? I've been wondering why my landlords/neighbors that I share a duplex with have been coming down on me so damned hard lately. First they had me give my cats away (I had two) and now they want to "clean up my clutter" which happens to be A) Not Clutter and, B) more expensive than merely clutter.
Here's the story...
I have a large number of collectibles ranging from an 1840's Thoracic Nun's Rosary Cross made of inlaid ebony to three 1st edition Rudyard Kipling originals to an 800+ coin collection ranging from 192 different countries (I have been personally given each of these coins by the person using these as money in their native countries).
Needless to say I was not about to let these two jerks come storming in and box up my "clutter" as it is VERY tastefully displayed and nobody has ever said anything but great things about my place...save these two asses.
It's taken me some time to figure it all out...but now I know...
I've had this feeling that they've been in my place with permission ("We need to do some work while you are not there" What the hell?!?) and have been snooping through my things. I keep my medication in my bathroom cabinet, and my dresser drawers don't hide any secrets when you open them.
So, that's the ticket...they know my "dirty little secret" and they don't approve. Fine, so be it...I'll find somewhere else to live and get out of your hair, I needed to move near campus anyways...
All I can feel right now is the intense pain in my head. Of course, it didn't just happen that way. Actually, I can't remember the exact details of how it did happen. But, as far as I can tell it went like this:
I went out for my bike ride at about 1:00 P.M. Didn't have a bite to eat yet that day. (The scale said 204.5 lbs. and I wanted to see it drop to 203 when I got back...) The first 15-20 minutes of my ride were great, I was making good time at about 19 mph. But, I started getting hotter and hotter and hotter. By the time I made it to the half way point I felt like I was on fire, that was around 7 miles or so.
But, I continued to bike anyways... I got another roughly 2 miles before I collapsed in a small wooded park. I spent the next 30-45 minutes trying to get up and not fall down again. When I finally did get up again and on my bike it only took MAYBE another mile before I was utterly exhausted to the point of biking at 2-3 mph. I stopped at the hospital for some cold water, as my two bottles were tapped out.
I asked the Triage nurse for some aspirin and she said I would have to see a doctor for that. I declined...
I walked outside with my cold water-filled bottles and couldn't work up enough strength to get on my bike. So, I went back inside and checked in with the nurse.
Things went from bad to worse I think (not really clear on alot of this now...) and I ended up slip in and out for a while. I remember asking why I had to have an IV and I must have been asking that alot because the doctor simply snapped at me, "Because I said so.".
They gave me Toradol and Imotrex for my "headache" and I slipped in and out some more for the next 5 hours. A lady than walks in at this point and is from the neurology ward. She asks me a bunch of questions and I answered them the best I could. Explained the pin prick lights that seem to come and go, the shadows in the corners of my eyes. She asks me if I ever get my words or sentences jumbled up and I can't say anything but yes to that.
She starts doing a number of tests, some of them it appears I failed because she tried them over again. My wrist reflexes weren't there. My right leg didn't kick when my knee was hit. And, I don't know if I failed the Babinski's Reflex test on my feet because she went to town on my left foot. Afterwards she asked me if, "You ever lose feeling in your hands or feet". Which, I do, and have. It gets bad when I bike and I can barely feel my feet sometimes.
Needless to say, she found something amiss enough to schedule me for a neurological follow-up, which I am going to go to.
My headache still hasn't gone away and they prescribed me Darvocet and 800mg Ibuprofen every 8 hours. I know the Ibuprofen is common, but that is one heck of a dose...
So, as of this moment I appear to have broken my brain. If it's related to the heat stroke and dehydration I don't know, or maybe it was in conjunction with, or brought forward by...any way you put it this can't be a good thing...
I have been getting irritated lately, very easily. I couldn't figure it out, but it's been becoming apparent more and more each day.
It's not the skin itself, it's the male part. It's just such a long road still. It makes me cry to know that I am being forced to live as a male right now, and it's slowly killing me. I don't want this, I don't want it at all.
I know once I lose another 35-40 lbs. I will finally be in my ideal weight range and people are already astounded by my "fit" looking body, but it's "guy fit" and it's very obvious that I have weight to lose when I point it out. Once I lose the rest of it and start corsetting I will have a decidedly feminine looking body.
My face is very feminine, despite the way I see it some days when I look at it. I just wish I had $7,200.00 to change my jawline and chin and than that would be complete for now (I still need brow work).
I'm on the brink of androgyny now, moving away from masculine...but it's just so damned hard to get up and look in the mirror everyday and still see a man.
I don't want you there anymore. When I look in the mirror, I don't want you there...
Megan came over today, she wasn't feeling good at all and wanted to go get some crackers and such to make her feel better. She had a stomach ache and was throwing up. She doesn't have much, if any, money right now because of certain choices she has made so it fell upon me to help her out and buy her what she needed.
We went to the store and on our way to the crackers and such we ended up passing by the bras. This made me realize that I also needed some more sports bras because I only have three and when I exercise they tend to need to be washed and I don't do laundry every day. I found some really nice fitting sports bras with spaghetti straps that seem to do a better job than the previous type I had.
But, I digress. I was looking at the sports bras and she was looking at the real bras.
At that point I asked her, "What size do I look like to you? I mean, am I an 'A' yet?"
"Yeah, you look like a pretty decent A-cup. Do you like wire or no wire?"
Heck, I had no idea what that meant...in fact I was just asking about my size. But, this got me on the idea of actually getting a real bra. We looked them over for a few minutes and I chose a 36A that seemed to be about what I was looking for, with wire. It was actually pretty exciting to know that I might really need something like this soon...but also pretty scary because when it came time to wear it I was going to be 'out'. There really is no way to hide something like that.
Anyways, when I got home I tried it on. Well, 36A really isn't meant for me. Don't get me wrong, the cup size was perfectly fine. I would even say I was thrilled that I actually filled it out! But, anything A-cup is pretty much designed for a TINY girl and hence it didn't fit too well on me. Megan assured me that once I start getting bigger the bigger cups will start looking MUCH more natural on me.
Even though I won't be wearing this one a whole lot, if at all (since the sports bras do a damned decent job at what they need to) I think I will always keep this bra around in my drawer just for it's symbolism.
I had my first visit today to get lined up for braces on July 14th. I was really worried about explaining my gender issues to them given what just happened recently to me at the pharmacy.
I arrived there on time and already had all my paperwork pre-filled out. I didn't sit for more than 5 minutes and a very nice lady called me into a back office to go over everything. We started chatting about my dental history and everything and she was almost at the bottom of the page.
"OK, I don't know if you noticed my medications. They always ask me what they are about."
"Yes, I already read through the patient form before I brought you back, it's my habit. I understand what they are for and I have no issues with it, it's not my life. Plus, this isn't the first time dealing with transgendered people here. We ARE right next to Macalester College. Do you go through their program?"
"Oh, no. I go through Dr. Stellrecht. She's much more personal, less clinical."
"Oh, that must be nice. I suppose you thought you were going to surprise me. Well, honey, nothing you can tell me would surprise me, trust me."
Everything went amazingly smooth except for the fact that I will have to have braces for two and a half years...and my teeth aren't even that bad looking.
Oh well, as the French say, "That's life." But, in a much different language of course!
As of yet I have only dealt with the occassional odd look, double-take, or family member trying to convince me I am not transgendered.
But now I know what it's like to be singled out and made to feel like a fool for something I can't control.
"Yes, I'm here to fill a prescription please."
I give her my name, my address, and my birthday. She begins to pull up the record and there are only three medications I have been prescribed for anything this year so it should have been a rather easy find.
"Which medications are you getting refilled today?"
"All three of them, please."
I didn't really want to say them out loud, yes it is still embarassing going to get them filled, being on trial.
"Can I please have the names of the prescriptions."
"You are out of refills on Prometrium. It looks like you are out of Estradiol and Spironolactione, also. You are out of prescription refills. Sorry, I can't help you."
Did you REALLY have to say their names out loud for the entire half a dozen pharmacy staff to hear, and all the customers around me?!
I get a fair distance from the pharmacy counter and call my endocrinologist.
"Hi, um...I'm one of Erica's patients"
"Oh, ok. Hi. What can I help you with today?"
"Well, I am apparently out of prescriptions and don't see her for another two weeks."
"Oh, well the pharmacy we sent them to should have a fax request form to send to us for a refill voucher. Did they say they sent one?"
"No, they didn't... She was very, very rude to me and I don't think she wanted to help me at all.."
"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. Tell her to send the voucher, are you at the pharmacy now?"
So I walked over and told her exactly what Erica's office had told me.
"Oh, yes...we sent the form."
Yeah, you sound like you did...
"Please route the information over to the Wabasha location. I will have them filled there later."
I had to go to work and after spending an hour screwing around with this location I will never go there again.
After calling the Wabasha location I found out that they hadn't gotten a copy of the faxed voucher back from Erica's office even though they were waiting for it. Sounds like it never got sent.
"I'm sorry it doesn't seem to have been returned to us yet. Would you like me to start the process over from our location instead?"
"Yes, please. I had a horrible, horrible experience at your 46th St. location. I am sure you are well aware of the nature of the medication, being a pharmacist."
"Yes, I know what they are for. But, I am not going to form any biases or discriminate about it, it's not what I do."
"Thank you. I don't think they felt the same way at the other branch."
"Well, I recognize your voice and I know I've helped you a few times. It's really not a big deal. We'll take care of this for you."
"Thank you so much, it's just what I needed today."
Even though she was amazingly helpful it doesn't erase the hurt the other woman paid me. I can't describe the look of disgust in words, it's just not possible. Nor can I explain the feeling of worthlessness she conveyed upon me at that moment.
I hesitate to give the name of the establishment, though. It is obviously the mood of the people at a particular location, not the overall mood of the company. Does she really know how much she hurt me with that little five minute window of her life?
Probably not, and if she did she probably doesn't care...I'm 'just a tranny'...