The party took place in one of those beer halls favored by the students; I hadn't been there in over fifteen years. Love the decor, could do without most of the clientele. I had, think, never partied with my peers off-campus in a dress before, so it was a kind of an occasion for me, too.
I felt relaxed and at home, and it wasn't because of the beer, because I didn't have any.
While we were there, a downpour commenced, so when I left to return to work, I used my sweater as an umbrella, trailing it above and behind me like a banner at arm's length. I felt like I was in a scene from a romantic Italian movie, and when a couple of guys turned to watch me go by (I felt that it was with approval), the feeling was confirmed for me.
So, because the endocrinologist "couldn't" see me, my doctor gave me the name of a GNP who has experience with hormones and I left a message there. Got a callback from her receptionist, who asked what I had in mind.
"I'm on hormone replacement therapy, MTF, and need LDL and HDL advice."
"Oh, ok, lemme see if she does that. I'll call you right back, OK?"
It's been a week.
I repeat, for the benefit of the medical profession: just because I wasn't wearing what you regard as a seat belt when I crashed, does not obligate you to refuse me care.
Time for a census.
Number of people in my immediate workplace who support my transition:
Number opposed; They haven't said so to my face, but I gathers it's:
Number of people in my congregation who support my transition:
Number who have "expressed reservations:"
Number of family members who support me:
1, if he knew about it, but my mom has asked me to shield him. He's 88.
Doctors and dentists and nurses and lab technicians, supporting:
at last count, about 13.
Counselors, against: 2
That's what, 213 for and 9 against in my immediate environment. I could throw in my support group, of about 40 more, 253/9, plus the HRC, with which I'm working on City Code changes, 273/9, and, oh, yes, my entire workplace has a policy specifically supporting transpeople, and it's a big workplace, so we can say 25,273 approximately:
Hmm, do you suppose I could get 25,273 letters to the endocrinologists? Nah, these are busy people. I think, instead, I'll just work on my counselor to be comfortable with my own doctor's lab results, which are perfectly acceptable, according to all the post-op women I know.
Speaking of my mom, I was talking to her on the phone and she told me about all her friends that were talking about their daughters:
"Mine had a surprise party for me and fifty people came."
"Well, mine says she's going to take care of me so I won't have to go in the nursing home."
And she said to herself: "Gee, I don't have a daughter...."
And then she said to herself:
"Wait a minute. Yes, I do!"
I'll put up her vote against anybody's, any day.