At the last span of the dreaded whopping head cold spreading what seems the nation. It couldn’t have come at a better time. There hasn’t been a bunch of focus on the events of the past week. Till now. While I graciously (wildly) accepted the hard copy of the prescription for T last Tuesday, it’s been lost in the red tape insurance company vortex. Hobbled five blocks from the train station in the rain with my partner, G, an umbrella and cane to make the 1:20 p.m. appointment at the medical center. Figure that’s how I caught the cold.
We walked slowly back to the station, rode home and made a bee line for the pharmacy. Although cautioned by my practitioner the likelihood of the script being filled with insurance monies was practically nil, I held hope. Screech! Sorry, prior authorization required. I could tell the guy behind the counter cared. By his look. We know one another from my frequent visits filling my scripts for psyche meds. Plus, it wasn’t for estrogen, after all. He couldn’t know I’d been forewarned the companies “hesitate” to fill prescriptions for T when the patient is female.
There are many more awkward, sensitive, trifling and ungodly acts occurring in the world and the result of my T being held up fits narrowly within its structure. There is, however, the surprise appointment availability of receiving a top surgery consult with the plastic surgeon for next week. Less apt to jump up and down over this, for various reasons, I find I’m more complacent than anything. When I came out to myself as trans, I turned to food as comfort and in the nine month period to now I’ve put on twenty hefty pounds. Getting my BMI back to normal and raising money for the procedure has me putting breaks on like crazy where all is concerned.
Missed a gender therapy appointment due to silly cold and an intake with a prospective couples’ therapist. My hair, which is buzzed yet styled, is mercilessly weighing on my brain. Like I said, there is so much more to worry about than having crappy hair. Having good thoughts of being physically well enough to attend my weekly meeting of J.W. tomorrow. And attend the new group in which I’ve enrolled, scheduled Wednesdays for the following twelve weeks, entitled: Managing Strong Emotions. Getting there, is half the battle, or so I’m told.