Tuesday, April 11, 2006

remember, Butt Massage!

So yesterday was, all in all, a pretty good day. I slept in late, then headed over to Callen Lorde for my 16th therapy session, thus ensuring that there would be no repeat of two weeks ago, when my first shot was delayed at the last minute due to a mix-up about the requirements of the HRT protocol for the youth prgoram. With the completion of session number 16, however, nothing could stand in my way! So I spent the 50 minutes basically chattering on about how cheerful I'm feeling, and how happy I am that everything is coming together for me.

I talked a bit about what starting T means to me, though I'm still not sure, exactly. All day yesterday (and the days leading up to it, honestly) I was having trouble really parsing out the best description of "how I'm feeling."

A couple of things hit me in therapy, though. For one thing, I'm going to look different. Sound different. A few months from now, with any luck, I'm going to notice substantive changes in myself, and my physicality. I've been living so long with a hopeful disconnect from how I actually look that it's hard to internalize and really realize that this change will be happening, albeit slowly.

Which means it's time for me to be patient. It means that now it's the end of a chapter in my life, the 'pre-transition' period. I'm not looking forward all the time to the when/how/where I'll be starting T. I've started. I've done my piece. Time to wait and welcome the results.

Anyway, at last 6:30 rolled around, and back to Callen Lorde. After waiting for about 45 minutes in the waiting room (which is pretty much the standard wait time at my clinic) the front desk person came over to reveal that, it turns out, they had no record of my 6:30 appointment, despite the appointment card I brandished which read '6:30, April 10th" in her own handwriting. This, as you may expect, Did Not Make Me Happy, but I kept my composure and good nature long enough for her to reassure me that I would be seen regardless, and in about 10 minutes, no less.

The appointment itself was pretty quick and straightforward, since all the paperwork etc. had been taken care of two weeks ago, and the shot itself didn't really hurt at all. Excellent! Later on the bus back to Rochelle's apartment (where she cooked me a fantastic three course celebratory meal that ended with my very first Artichoke Experience) we ran into a new friend of mine from group, who congratulated me on my first shot with a heartfelt smile that testified to true empathy, and warned me to massage the injection site ("Butt Massage! That's all I've gotta say!") so as to avoid soreness.

I was quieter than usual all evening, trying to reconcile the immensity of the moment with the fact that it was wrapped up in a very ordinary moment. More than the happiness I expected to feel (and which I surely did feel, just check out my grin in those pictures!), I felt a sense of quiet accomplishment. As in, that really needed to be done, and it feels good to have done it.

Today, that feeling has continued. I'm more cheerful and less contemplative, and I keep thinking silly little thoughts, wondering if the T is kicking in yet. I got rather frustrated with a student who approached the desk and asked for a reserve book by saying "I need that book, the beige one!" and pointing. After gritting my teeth and politely but somewhat brusquely referring her to the online catalog and the reserve request cards, I wondered if I was being somewhat more short-tempered than usual. Ha. I intend to keep an eye on my moods in the upcoming week, but I don't think that I've become subject to the vagaries of testosterone-induced testiness a mere 18 hours after my first dose.

So. Day 1. Observations: as expected, nothing seems different. The injection site is a little sore, but the butt massage helped, I think. I'm looking forward to being patient. I'm happy, and optimistic, and calm. To borrow a friend's habit of nautical terminology- I've shoved off, the shoreline is rapidly receeding, the seagulls are circling overhead, and it's Bon Voyage!

2 comments:

Anonymous said...

Rock on, Eli! Transition is simultaneously more gradual, and more immediate, than you can ever imagine!

Believe in what's possible. Talk to every cell in your body about what you want. Make yourself.

Sending you all my best wishes and congrats.

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