#it's just a general gp surgery and you can see any of the doctors there and basically never see the same one twice anyway

[mosswolf]

i don't know. every time someone suggests fibromyalgia i just get filled with despair because there's no way in hell doctors are ever going to believe me about something like that. they don't believe me or help me about anything anyway, but fibromyalgia is so notoriously hard to get diagnosed with, and every single time my doctors test me for something and i don't have it they try to go well thats that then! and wash their hands of me and then i have to fight to get the next thing tested for all over again, and as fibromyalgia is one of those things that you get diagnosed with after all other avenues have been exhausted kind of thing, it would take so much time and energy to keep fighting and i just. don't have that

i need to find out whats wrong with me so i can advocate for myself in work and stuff. but how the fuck do you deal with fighting endlessly with people who clearly dont really believe you and dont care even if they do believe you???

[lavenoon]

When it comes to the boys is there anything they may be super casual about that Robin may just look at them and either go "What are you doing??" or "Wait a second, you need that?"

I continue tackling old asks <3

So for this, there might be a bunch that'll seem like it should have come up sooner and only didn't because I didn't think about it before this ask. Thanks for giving me the opportunity to ponder those human/ animatronic differences - they're my bread and butter!

The first thing that surprised Y/N was pretty soon after Sun moved in - he didn't technically need it, but the boys like setting up their charging station a bit. So Sun asked to make some minor alterations to the house. Comparable to uhhh maybe a charging station to an electrical car at home, just not quite the same dimensions? To Sun/Moon it means quicker charging as well as better equipment compared to "travel" set ups.

Y/N, while they didn't expect it, did tell him to make those alterations as he sees fit, because they are a bad landlord and don't really care - in their mind he lives there, and should live comfortably!

There's also the check-ups. Like any human should go to the GP even without acute issues every now and then, animatronics need check-ups too! But the first time it comes up it's a moment of "Oh right that makes sense, why did that never occur to me?"

The boys can do a good bunch of repairs by themselves, more so than the average animatronic I'd say. Their trust in engineers (especially human engineers) has taken a significant hit after the Eclipse battery issue, and they decided they'll learn a bit more about their inner workings.

(I don't think animatronics in general would just know how to do their own repairs. Like Robin thinks in First Aid - that's like expecting a human to do their own surgery. Possible, sure, for some things - but definitely not the standard. How many humans have medical knowledge on the level of a doctor without being a doctor? Takes active research into personal health issues, and that's exactly what our celestial brothers did. Eclipse, too. His trust into engineers took the greatest hit - the first one he met turned out to cut corners for profit, and was dishonest. So these three are a little special, but they have their reasons)

Despite all that, they do try to get a full body check-up at least once a year. They also have to replace their finger joints and casing more often than would technically be necessary with normal wear and tear, but Sun has a nervous habit of wringing them until they creak while also hating the dents it causes.

They can also detach limbs without great issues. I imagine it similarly to fullmetal alchemist automail, where it's uncomfortable for a split second when "nerves" get de/ attached, but otherwise it's just. There's no lingering/ constant pain, so they can detach hands, arms, and legs pretty easily. The hands are extra because they have the separate circuits, and the tasers may need specific maintenance.

If, at some point after the First Aid blowout (or, well, blowup) the boys decide to keep a few replacement parts on hand (not like, a whole second body, because that's too expensive, but just like. A couple custom parts, every now and then, as long as the joint wallet agrees), it makes for a funny little moment of Y/N picking up a package for them, taking it inside, and going "oh, this is kinda heavy, what did you order? if you wanna share" "oh, just another arm. ordered the left one last month, now we have one of each in storage." And Y/N just stands there internally screaming because the thought of just. Ordering an arm for when you might need to replace your old one is just not really something they can empathize with, and their attempts of course lead to more imagined body horror.

Generally I'd say that Y/N sometimes slips into making the two human in their mind, not just people. They don't mean to, but they didn't interact this much with many animatronics (if any) before, and didn't know any as well as Sun/Moon, so they just. Fumble.

Like Sun/Moon complaining about squeaking joints, and they just hesitantly get some WD-40 to offer the boys, like "Is this gonna help? It works for doors but I don't want to say you're like a door" while the boys just die on the inside trying not to laugh

(I don't know if they could use WD-40. Gut instinct says yes, but I simply don't trust my gut like that lmao)

The boys also make a couple memory back ups every now and then, just in case. It wouldn't be able to replace their AI should anything happen to them, but if their memory cards are fried they can check things out again, and they could show Y/N their memories, like videos! Y/N also needs a bit to adjust to that. It's sweet to see how much focus they received from the start, and to see how hard Sun/Moon tried to do well by them, but it's also literally seeing themself through someone else's eyes, and that's not something a human would just expect is possible

In that vein - if they ever mention they can just share their memories with each other, Y/N is gonna need a moment to grapple with that (before demanding an explanation why they don't do that, because it would have saved them all a lot of grief if they'd compared notes on their rival and neighbor. Not too accusingly, because Y/N feels guilty for missing the signs themself, but just a bit of "Why wasn't this an option?")

There's also the curiosity about just, constantly running programs. All the sensors for the boys - seeing and hearing work better than for a human, touch is different but it's hard to explain how, more deliberate with the option to exclude circuit areas easily, and smell is a little less sensitive, comparable to electronic "noses" that also gives them some idea of how things would taste, but otherwise that sense just entirely falls off the table. Where and how electricity is running, where are which sensors, what sort of temperature regulation do they have? (They run just a little colder than humans when at rest, and no one with gaming laptops come at me, I'm basing this off my own laptop PLUS I'm giving them better fans/ tech).

Y/N would be curious to learn about all that, because they want to love all of the boys, and want to know all they can. But I don't think they'll ever learn as much to do repairs single-handedly - they don't see why they have to, frankly. They don't want to think of the boys broken so badly that no one else would even offer to help, and otherwise just assumes situations like First Aid, where they can just carry out instructions while the boys are incapacitated. They learn how to recognize terms and what screw goes where and which cable does what, but they don't get the intricacies of it all because despite everything, they are not an engineer for animatronics and I'm not making them one gfhdj

Think that's it for now, that's already 1.2K words too so! Hope that's some fun then <3

[autisticlee]

I had my regularly scheduled monthly check up with my doctor today. he referred me to a surgeon that's now in my hospital and does trans surgeries so i'm finally starting the path to top surgery hopefully 🥹 I can finally get this off my chest and be free!

he also said if i'm happy with being on a low dose of T I can stay there and didn't pressure me to raise it. i'm fine with how it is since I prefer to be more androgynous and don't care to be super masculine bearded manly man or whatever. i'm still unsure how it is where I live if you're allowed to be nonbinary and get trans healthcare ????? because when I started 10 years ago, you weren't eligible if you were, so I had to....more or less play pretend that I was a "man" or something to get the care I needed. (I also wasn't aware at the time nonbianry was an option back then haha, I just knew "girl" wasn't correct). so i'm not sure if I should just tell him i did some gender exploring and came to the conclusion that nonbinary/androgynous style is more me? he'd probably be fine with it himself but i'm not sure how heslthcare for that works these days

he told me where he recommends me to go for lgbt counseling to get my letters for surgery. i'm not sure if i'm supposed to once again play the part of "yeah i'm a man of course" or I can be the nonbinary androgynous gremlin i am. so we'll see how that goes!

I wish I could have got this done already but there was never a surgeon near me or one that takes my insurance, and I dont have $10k lying around to pay someone. but I guess there is one here now! i'm hoping to get it done soon because the way the states are going with antitrans healthcare laws stripping away our care faster than we can even get it, this state i'm stuck in will find a way to ban it....like the ones banning autistic people from gender healthcare? wouldn't surprise me if this one follows that shit 😬 and I can't afford to leave.

also, a cool thing my doctor told me! he's going to start doing less GP stuff and focus more on teaching students and new residents at the hospital. his focus will be on trans and general lgbt education. he said there's nothing like that in this hospital system yet. doctors and staff aren't trained on anything lgbt, and it's unacceptable, so he's going to start trying to make sure that get implemented any way he can, starting with teaching students and residents and stuff! he'll still do some regular doctor care, keeping his trans patients i'm assuming, since he was working at the pride clinic i initially went to before he switched to the main hospital branch, so I luckily don't have to deal with getting a new doctor again. he keeps bringing me along whenever he moves to a new building. but I think that's pretty great that he's being a good lgbt ally doctor!! we for sure need those. good job, Dr. O!

[anyroads]

I'm also an American citizen married to a Brit. This is nice and all but the NHS doesn't just need to be saved from privatization. It needs to be saved, period. It needs to be fixed. For three decades the Tories have been bashing it to bits in ways that now have a monumental price tag, and people in this country are so used to it being the way it is they don't even know what to challenge or how to do it. Often, they just accept it.

Did you know that when the NHS started switching to a digital system 25 years ago, the Tories deliberately didn't invest in a universal system? So now every single hospital uses a different digital system to organize their records and databases, and most of these systems don't talk to each. They can't export files into formats that can be digitally transferred because of security vulnerabilities. Which means records are transferred between surgeries via paper mail (both an inconvenience and a money pit). Hospitals are only now starting to host patient portals, and you still can only use them to see messages from the hospital staff, but you can't contact anyone through it.

The NHS also wastes an insane amount of money. There's very little preventative medicine, including no annual checkups and no consistent GP. Where in the US you have a single GP who you visit each time you need basic care, and who you go to for checkups (which is often how chronic illnesses like cancer are flagged), in the UK you see a different doctor every time you make an appointment. Your appointment is 12 minutes long, shorter if they can push you out the door fast enough, and most of it is spent catching the doctor up on your medical history since they don't know you. And that's only when you have a problem that needs tending to; there are no annual checkups so unless you know how to spot every potential cancer or other disease yourself, good luck.

The person above who told the story about their wife? Their insurance may not have covered cancer treatment in the US but their doctor may have caught it much earlier, requiring less overall treatment. An NHS GP will literally look at your problem and say, "you'll probably be fine and if not, go to A&E" (accident & emergency, aka the ER/urgent care). Which is probably one of the reasons there are currently up to 99 hour waiting lists at A&Es (that and the fact that they're understaffed and overfunded). A friend of mine undergoing IVF treatments ran out of their NHS funding for the procedure because after several failures their doctor wouldn't run extra tests because it was "unlikely" that they had any unusual problems (this attitude in general care also makes it harder for people with rare conditions to get diagnosed, let alone get help). They are now spending money on private IVF treatments, and the first thing their new doctor is doing is running those same tests, because it's a waste of money and resources not to.

Want to hear my own NHS stories? The admin staff in my GP's office have actively tried to prevent me getting access to basic medicine that was prescribed, due to administrative malpractive. GPs and specialist alike regularly tell patients to pass along messages about their care to other doctors/offices, wasting weeks of time because it doesn't work. Doctors don't listen to patients, they listen to other doctors (sometimes), and patients don't have medical admin training so they aren't good at transmitting messages, yet this is common practice. I spent 3 years telling every GP I saw I'm prone to a vitamin deficiency and they ignored it until I ended up at a specialist who ran a test and it turned out I now had a severe deficiency. So now the NHS had to pay for a 12 week course of intensive vitamin doses, instead of for a single blood test a year and letting me buy my own low-dose pills at Boots to take with my daily multi-vitamin. I've been called in for appointments that I did not need, wasting not only my time but the GP's time and delaying care for other patients. I've been called in for blood tests I didn't need because the admin system is so imprecise, wasting those resources. If my blood tests come back normal I don't get a follow up even if my symptoms persist, which means that by the time I get them dealt with the condition has worsened and I now need a specialist whereas before I could have just gotten a cheap over the counter treatment. A friend of mine recently had an infected wound that their GP dismissed (again, telling them to go to A&E if it gets bad). They went to a private GP who put them on antibiotics, and if they hadn't, my friend could have gotten sepsis and ended up needing hospital care for it (again, lack of preventative care leading to higher costs). It's near impossible to get an appointment anywhere because staff are out sick so often, but staff in medical facilities also no longer wear masks and practices are taking down the plexiglass that protects staff from patients (which costs them money to do and increases staff absences due to illness). I had recurring UTI symptoms but kept testing negative for it a few years ago and was referred for tests by several specialists. They yielded normal results, but the testing gave me a raging UTI and I ended up in A&E with a fever, waiting for over 6 hours and was only seen because I almost passed out after my fever got worse while waiting. I was given antibiotics and the problem ceased. In retrospect, it's likely that if my GP had requested a culture instead of just a standard UTI test, they would have spotted the infection and treated it, saving the NHS money on specialists. (As part of that whole process, I kept having my appointment deferred by one of the specialists, who I finally spoke with in person only to have him sexually harass me. When I submitted a complaint to the hospital, the outcome was that they don't think I should see the doctor but as they have no one else on staff who shares his position, I will need to get referred to another doctor at another hospital, which meant starting the process from scratch with my GP and dealing with months-long waiting lists again).

My time, my doctors' time, and staff's time and money are consistently wasted. And it's deliberate. Because the Tories, who want the NHS to be privatized and for the UK to switch to the US's insurance system, keep implementing system-wide practices that are wasteful and make the system non-functional. They keep decreasing funding, and were well aware that one of the effects of Brexit would be that a lot of nurses and hospital staff would be forced to leave the UK. Which is why we have insane wait times, no resources, and overworked and underpaid staff. Meanwhile, individual practices have hiring practices that are legitimately insane and unchecked, ie. people will regularly just hire friends and relatives instead of qualified people who have even a basic training in medical administration. Patients suffer because of it. Patients DIE because of it.

The NHS's attitude towards covid at this point is basically, if it could kill you we'll give you support, but if it'll only give you a lifelong disability we don't care (again, very little preventative care). Of course, that just means more money and resources for the NHS, so instead of investing in vaccinating people and offering antivirals for another year or two, they're creating tens of thousands of long-term-care-dependant patients who will need NHS services regularly for years, possibly decades. I have 2 chronic illnesses that make me vulnerable to covid (not to mention I already have long covid), but when I had it again recently I was refused antivirals because I'm not on immuno-suppressants like cancer patients and therefore I didn't "need" them. The NHS has already re-defined "we can't afford to give everyone who needs it this medication" to "therefore they don't need it." In the US, my friends who had covid immediately got antivirals prescribed, without needing to prove vulnerability. No one in the UK under 65 has been vaccinated for over a year unless they fit into the very narrow categories of vulnerability that qualify them as exceptions. They've recently lowered the eligibility to people over 50, but the handful of eligible people are now up for their 5th vaccine while everyone else got cut off at 3, so it's unlikely most people will receive another one. Yet hospitals are overloaded, ambulances unavailable, and case numbers high again. The attitude of vulnerable=could die instead of vulnerable=can be severely affected and/or die has contributed greatly to this, not least because we basically have an unvaccinated population now, increasing the risk of infections being bad ones for people who would count as vulnerable by most other Western medical standards.

Because here's the thing: socialized health care is a good system, but only if it's run functionally and invested in. It's not as simple as, "protect the NHS." The entire system is in shambles and needs major investment to be fixed. That requires commitment. It requires patients to submit complaints and push back against bad practices. It requires you to go out and vote against the Tories. It requires writing your MP regularly. It requires British people to complain and demand better, which they won't do because God forbid they make a fuss or upset anyone. British people will literally let their doctors kill them through neglect rather than risk feeling like an inconvenience.

OP posted a nice story and all, but for anyone who has to exist in this system who has any kind of chronic illness, "keep is from being privatized" is a bullshit low bar to clear. I want to support the NHS, but when I see posts that put it on a pedestal like this it genuinely makes me want to hurl things.

[martinloren]

A Deep Dive into Sinus Surgery: Types and Recovery

Sinus surgery is a procedure designed to help people who have persistent issues with their sinuses, like chronic sinus infections or blockages, that don't get better with medication. Imagine your sinuses as a series of small, interconnected rooms in your face and forehead. When these rooms get blocked or inflamed, it can cause pain, pressure, and infections that make life pretty miserable. Sinus surgery helps to clear these blockages and improve drainage, so you can breathe easier and feel better.

Types of Sinus Surgery

Functional Endoscopic Sinus Surgery (FESS):

What Happens: During FESS, the surgeon uses a small camera called an endoscope to look inside your sinuses. This camera helps them see exactly what's going on. They then use tiny instruments to remove anything that's blocking your sinuses, like polyps, thick mucus, or bits of bone. It’s like a very precise and tiny cleaning job inside your nose.

Why It's Great: This method is less invasive, which means smaller cuts, less pain, and a quicker recovery.

Balloon Sinuplasty:

What Happens: Think of this procedure as using a small balloon to open a blocked drain. The surgeon inserts a tiny balloon into your sinus passage, inflates it to gently widen the passage, and then deflates and removes it. This helps to open up your sinuses without cutting away tissue.

Why It's Great: It's even less invasive than FESS and can often be done right in the doctor’s office with local anaesthesia, meaning you can go home the same day.

Caldwell-Luc Operation:

What Happens: This is a more traditional approach where the surgeon makes an incision inside your upper lip to reach the sinus. It's used less often now but can be useful for very specific problems.

Why It's Great: It can address more extensive sinus issues that other surgeries might not be able to.

Image-Guided Surgery:

What Happens: During this type of surgery, the surgeon uses real-time imaging from a CT scan to guide their instruments. It’s like having a GPS for your sinuses, helping the surgeon navigate complex areas safely.

Why It's Great: Increased precision reduces the risk of complications and is particularly useful for tricky or delicate cases.

When is sinus surgery needed?

Sinus surgery in Bangalore is usually considered when you’ve tried other treatments, like antibiotics or nasal sprays, and they haven’t worked. It’s a good option if you have:

Chronic sinusitis that just won’t go away.

Repeated sinus infections that keep coming back.

Nasal polyps that block your breathing.

Structural problems like a deviated septum make it hard for your sinuses to drain properly.

Fungal infections or growths that need to be removed.

Preparing for surgery

Getting ready for sinus surgery involves a few steps:

Medical Evaluation: Your doctor will likely do a thorough check-up and order imaging tests like a CT scan to get a clear picture of your sinus anatomy.

Medications: You might need to stop taking certain medications, especially blood thinners, to reduce the risk of bleeding during surgery.

Fasting: If you’re going to be under general anaesthesia, you’ll probably need to fast for a few hours before the procedure.

The Road to Recovery

Recovery from sinus surgery can vary, but here’s what you can generally expect:

Immediate aftercare: Right after the surgery, you might have some nasal packing or splints to support healing. You’ll need to keep your head elevated and avoid blowing your nose to prevent bleeding.

Medications and Care: You’ll be given medications to manage pain and prevent infection. Regular nasal irrigation with a saline solution can help keep your nasal passages clean and promote healing.

Follow-Up Visits: Your surgeon will schedule follow-up appointments to monitor your recovery, remove any packing or splints, and ensure everything is healing properly.

Getting Back to Normal: Most people can return to normal activities within a week, but full recovery might take a few weeks. During this time, you should avoid strenuous activities and anything that might put pressure on your nose, like heavy lifting or flying.

Potential Risks

Like any surgery, sinus surgery has some risks, but they are generally low. Possible complications include:

Bleeding

Infection

Scar tissue formation

Damage to nearby structures, like your eyes or brain, though this is rare

Persistent symptoms, which might require additional treatment

Final Thoughts

Sinus surgery can make a big difference in your quality of life if you’ve been struggling with chronic sinus problems. It opens up your sinus passages, allowing for better drainage and fewer infections, so you can breathe easier and feel more comfortable. If you’re tired of dealing with sinus pain and pressure, it might be worth discussing with your doctor to see if surgery is the right option for you.

[damelucyjo]

I've felt like shit since Tuesday evening with it slowly getting worse, feeling like it reached its peak last night (checked my temperature around 4 this morning and it was 40) so thought maybe there's something wrong, and I should try and make an appointment with a GP today.

Try being the operative word here...

My doctor's surgery phone lines open at 8am. I call at exactly 8, am already 9th in the queue, only to finally get to speak to the receptionist and tell her I'd like to book an appointment to see a doctor and she says they have a new system to book appointments now. 'I'll send you a link where you'll fill out a short questionnaire, then a doctor should ring you back this morning.' That's fine. Only I click on the link she'd sent me and it says we have paused access to online queries as we have reached capacity for the day. It was only 8:20am by this point. Fucking ridiculous.

My mum suggested I ring 111 as I've done this in the past and they've managed to book me appointments to see other doctors and other surgeries or within the hospital. I speak to the woman on the phone, answer her various questions, and she suggests, as I said I thought it was a throat infection, that I go and see the pharmacist at our doctor's surgery. So I do.

I speak to him, tell him what's been going on, that I had a high temperature this morning but between using my migraine cap, forehead cooling gel things, and standing in front of my fan or out in the garden I'd managed to bring my temperature down... he said that wouldn't have brought my temperature down and as it was normal now it was unlikely to have been so high this morning... whatever, man.

He asks to look at my throat, tells me he can't see any indication of an infection, but can see that it looks sore. More than likely it's just a virus or a general sore throat. Take ibuprofen and sip warm water, use a throat spray if necessary. Then through further conversation, I mention I had my tonsils out when I was 8 and rarely get sore throats since. This man looks at me and seems shocked I just told him I had my tonsils out. Like... he just looked at my throat and apparently never noticed I don't have tonsils? WTF were you looking at then, my guy?! I-

I'm just going to carry on doing what I've been doing, try and sleep when I can because I haven't slept well since this all started, and hope it clears up on its own over the weekend.

[pupintransit]

Month 10 of The Wait™️ is upon us, but can i really call it "The Wait™️" when in two days I'm flying to Quebec? The wait is over. Pack it in boys, the mission's complete.

All told, from the day i told my GP about my goal it took about one full year to the date of surgery. It's ten months from the "official" start of the wait, which is the day that my surgical assessment was sent in to GRS Montréal. It costs a lot more to go to Montréal than stay in BC, but I have no regrets.

Everything that i need has been purchased days ago. Last thing i picked up were the absorbant pads for dilating on. I mentioned briefly in my shopping list post, but if you pick up XL puppy pads it's cheaper than getting the ones rated for humans. It's precisely the same product too, so honestly it just made the most sense.

Although speaking of costs, I've had the privilege of being able to put some money away. Not including the GoFundMe money (I've used that on my flights already) but including my existing savings, i have about $4,000 to play with. Not bad! I doubt i'll be able to keep that up once home in recovery since medical EI won't exactly let me live the life of luxury, but this way I won't need to take out a bank loan until after everything is said is done. Well ideally i won't need to take out a loan, but if it comes to that it's not gonna be so big of a financial hole.

On the topic of the medical EI, i have the requisite form from my doctor which i've sent to the government already. My employer is processing the document the government needs from them on my behalf.... on March 1st. It's later than i would have liked, but there's nothing i can do about it. Today after work i'll be submitting the EI application, which means it will FINALLY be something i can stop worrying about.

It's... i dunno, it's strange. I don't want to seem melodramatic but it's hard to write this particular post. Throughout this month and last month I've had more second thoughts than at any other point in my life. I think about it in two general modes; Logically and Emotionally.

Logically, the decision makes sense. When i think back to adolescence and my early 20s, i recall all the moments i wished to look different than i do now. All the times i wanted what the girls had as a kid, hoping i contracted testicular cancer as a teenager, my jealously of trans men as a young adult. None of these are cisgender thoughts. Cis men aren't distracted by the presence of their genitals when walking or going about their day, and they certainly don't lay awake a night wanting to be AFAB so they could transition and be a man with a vagina. There's scores of evidence suggesting that this isn't a kink or a passing phase. Logically, it makes sense that having a vagina is the correct choice based on everything i've experienced up until this point.

Emotionally, the decision makes me feel good. I'm scared, and frankly it would it be a bad sign if i wasn't, but i'm excited. I'm happy. The logical vein of thinking is retrospective, but the emotional vein is forward thinking. The first few weeks will suck and my crotch will be puffy and in pain, but that will pass. I have an abundant support network which will help me feel less alone during the parts that will really test my resolve. And even though it will not be pretty early on, it will still be mine. I'll see the shapes it'll have and have the mindfulness to know how it'll look fully healed, and when i get dressed in the morning there won't be a buldge. When i put on a gaff i like to look at myself in a mirror to see the bulde in my underwear vanish as i put on the garment, and watch as my front flattens out. The feeling when i watch that isn't arousal, it's relief. I'll still feel that relief even early in recovery when the hard part is still underway, and i can imagine how freeing it will feel after the first year and i'm fully healed. Emotionally, having a vagina and the sensations that come with it make feel happy.

So why the second thoughts? It's permanent, that's why. I can know i'm making an informed decision and remind myself i'm not imangining my dysphoria, but at the end of the day there's no going back. There's no trial period, no refunds, no nothing. It's inherently scary. I guess it makes going through with inherently courageous, but i don't feel courageous. I feel small, nervous, like i want to tuck my tail in and slink away before someone notices. But i'm staying true to what will be best for me. I have a choice, and my choice is that i want to do this.

I'm ready.

[freckleslikestars]

Hi, I hope it's okay to jump on here to give my perspective as a non-binary person living in the vague south-east of England.

On a day-to-day basis, I'd say I don't suffer horrendously. Do I struggle with getting my employers to use my correct pronouns? yes. Have I been trying for nearly three years to no success? yes. But I don't regularly get slurs yelled at me or anything. One thing I do get is hearing some cis person's bullshit opinions on my workplace having gender-neutral bathrooms literally at least once a night, which maybe winds me up more considering that there are also gendered bathrooms available. You hear a lot of that over here. And, honestly, if you find yourself affected a lot by transphobic news articles, it's generally just best to avoid the national and local media here.

However, from that day to day perspective, when you control who you are around and what media you interact with, most people here will be generally welcoming and accepting of you, though I do think that can be very dependent on where you are in the country, and who you're surrounding yourself with.

From a more logistical perspecitve, the two things I struggle with most are paperwork and medical problems.

The NHS is horrendously transphobic. A lot of this will depend on where you are in your transition/gender journey, but for myself I came out as non-binary and started transitioning when I was around 19 and I'd say that 70% of my dealings with doctors have become even more difficult after coming out. I had to stop attending therapy after my NHS therapist suggested I'd not be depressed if I "didn't identify as trans" and when I tried to make a complaint I was told he didn't say anything wrong. which. yeah. There are 8 NHS gender identity clinics within the UK, and their waiting lists for even an initial appointment are multiple years long. I've also found that you have to research GPs and doctors' surgeries to find one that isn't transphobic in the majority. Once you find a GP that isn't, things are a little easier, but things are still tricky and still move slowly. I also found that people - particularly psychiatric doctors - brush off my mental health problems more since I came out.

As for the paperwork side of things, changing my name on various paperwork in the UK from my deadname has been a mixed bag. My driving license and bank account were surprisingly easy, but changing my name with HMRC has been practically impossible - though that's pretty much the same as everything that you do through HMRC. Getting my DBS and my degree reissued in my preferred name* has probably had the hardest hoops to jump through, just with the amount of justification and verification of who I am, to the point where I still haven't been able to get any of them completed, and so because I work in various schools, every time I go into a new place I have to take my whole folder of information - dbs, deedpoll, two forms of ID, safeguarding training certificate - and have them put every single one on their system - and still I've explained this beforehand to schools, been told it's okay, then when I've finally gone in, things have apparently changed and they've decided I'm not an appropriate person to be around the children, which has happened twice, and apparently both times it was because the management team had no problem but both times the receptionist taking my info was transphobic.

It's also important to recognise that many of the transphobic acts going through parliament at the moment are aimed at schools and the education system, with teachers not being allowed to use children's preferred pronouns, having to inform parents if their child is questioning their gender identity, and many other things that are going to hurt children's safety if they go through.

Also, if you are opposed to a certain children's author, be prepared to see her shitty children's books everywhere. And I really mean everywhere. This might have something to do with where I live, but there are three Harry Potter shops in my city, as well as at least five stores I can think of off the top of my head that have dedicated Harry Potter sections. And, whilst I don't know what it's like elsewhere, the UK seems...much more protective of her shitty wizard series. To the point where I'd say the majority of my cis friends, whilst they correct people when they get my pronouns wrong, and proudly claim to be allies, will also defend a children's book by arguing death of the author and that the books and films themselves really aren't that harmful, which, again, is, uh...a really wild thing to claim, particularly when the sales of them are now directly funding anti-trans laws and acts.

I want to finish this stupidly long post by saying that the general day-to-day life that I lead is not terrible. I'm not being actively hunted. I'm surrounded by family and friends who support me as well as they know how. But my gender identity has lost me jobs, and friends. It has caused problems with my medical care. I personally believe the biggest problem with transphobia comes not from the number of transphobes in this country but the sheer volume of their voices, and the fact that so many of those voices come from places of power, like the government and the NHS.

It's important to note that all of these are my experiences, and other trans people in the UK may have had other experiences.

Sorry Aye for hijacking your post, and I realise the original anon was just asking about moving for Uni, but I figured a broader answer might be more helpful.

*make sure if you can you apply to uni with your preferred name, and get all of your registration documents using your preferred name, because many uni's refuse to change the name on a degree, no matter what. A lot are starting to allow a change in name due to gender identity changes, but that still involves many hoops to jump through.

The state of politics and the media give a very bad impression but is, generally, everyday life okay for trans and visibly gnc people in the uk? I've been thinking of moving from ireland to the south west of england for uni but only ever hearing bad things is perhaps making it more intimidating than necessary. Just overall like

I can’t really speak to that specifically as I’m not trans myself so imagine it can be varied across the board.

But sadly the name ‘Terf island’ is well deserved, there seems to be hundreds of columnists across the UK that are dedicated to writing something against trans people daily. People in government are particularly vicious, and there’s a particular former children’s author billionaire that funds anti trans hate.

So can’t speak to daily life at a work/social level, but news stories and political ‘debates’ are relentless.

[the-hard-days]

The next few days

The sonographer (A sonographer performs specialised diagnostic examinations using high frequency ultrasound - https://ahpa.com.au/allied-health-professions/sonography) told me she couldn't see what she would like to see and asked me to empty my bladder so we could do an internal ultrasound instead. At this time I already knew something wasn't right, as I should have been 9, nearly 10 weeks along, and should have been able to see a heartbeat and at least some features of a foetus, and I knew I wasn't looking at my baby. She measured and told us it looked like it was only 5 weeks 5 days. I could start to feel my heartbeat in my head and knew I wasn't going to be hearing any good news from here on out.

We were told we could just be really early, and the pregnancy tests taken were just taken too soon, but I'm sure the sonographer's are told not to panic their patients, but something in me knew.

I called my mum and a couple of my friends, and told them our baby hadn't grown for a month, and we weren't going to parents.

I've never felt heartbreak like that before, and I don't think I ever well again.

We cried together for a long time, and I think there will be days, probably many years in the future when I'll still cry about that day. I don't think it's something you can forget no matter how bad you want to.

The scans were sent to my GP (General Practitioner), and I was to make an appointment to get referrals for blood tests and to the early pregnancy loss clinic at our local hospital. I was able to get an appointment with my doctor the next day (whom I love dearly, even though she doesn't know it) and ordered some blood tests for the next day. We had a conversation on what to expect, which was honestly awful and one of the worst experiences of my life. Basically, the embryo had died more than a month ago, and my body didn't know it, making it a missed miscarriage.

That night was pretty awful. I dosed myself up (with permission from my doctor with prescribed medication) and hoped I could just sleep the night away, I woke up at 4am in bed with Luke, and couldn't help but sob for another hour or so, until I eventually fell asleep again.

We went and got my blood tests done, and I told myself I wasn't going to cry as I knew the nurse would have to ask me some rough questions about why I was getting my bloods done. These tests were put through as urgent, and had our results the next day.

I got a call from the doctor from the early loss clinic, and was told my pregnancy hormones were still elevated and they weren't willing to get me into surgery as this was a wanted pregnancy. So this meant more waiting. Not waiting for good news, or a miracle, but was sent home to wait for a miscarriage in the meantime, or 10 days for more tests and scans and then surgery if the embryo hadn't grown in 10 days.

My scan was on Wednesday, 12th of April, blood results back on the 14th of April, and would have to wait until at least the 24th for any more news.

[cosmickyeom]

seventeen, medical!au! ⋆ ﹕₊˚ hip hop unit as medical specialties!

content warning: hospital and other medical-related themes

⋆ ﹕₊˚ seungcheol, orthopedic surgery ⋆ this used to be a no-brainer speciality and is now one of the most competitive and difficult specialities to get matched into ⋆ the sweetest ortho-bro you will ever meet in your life ⋆ generally pretty laid-back and most of the staff harbor a huge crush on him ⋆ but switches to business mode when his cases start ⋆ does not allow foul language or other toxic behavior in his operating room, will not hesitate to kick people out ⋆ he definitely has a routine he needs to follow before each case and gets incredibly whiny when someone pages or interrupts him, forcing him to start over ⋆ the kind of doctor to buy food for the students and residents that follow him, he just wants them to think he's cool ⋆ learns new slang and the trends from his students and then uses them incorrectly around the other members ⋆ can be found in the emergency department with hoshi, radiology department with jihoon, or in the break room trying to beat jeonghan and wonwoo at games ⋆ ﹕₊˚ wonwoo, general surgery ⋆ all the years of video games have helped him with his quick reaction times and dexterity. he's very calculated and intentional with everything he does ⋆ especially loves doing surgery with the robot, feels like he's getting paid to play games ⋆ the surgery department holds an annual olympics event where they set up fun events related to their specialty (suturing weird things, trivia, etc) ⋆ wonu definitely beat seungcheol during all suturing events because of his quick and nimble fingers ⋆ refuses to let seungcheol live it down ⋆ also refuses to fulfill the "dumb surgeon" stereotype ⋆ unlike his peers, he actually clocks in a lot of time interacting with patients and learning about their disease states, often consults internal medicine doctor mingyu ⋆ can usually be found in the break room playing video games on his phone between cases ⋆ at the start of each cohort, someone (anesthesiologist jeonghan) spreads a rumor to all the residents and students that he's actually a robot and is only as capable and smart as he is because he gets a system update each night when he plugs himself into the outlet. jeonghan isn't allowed to interact with the residents any more ⋆ ﹕₊˚ mingyu, internal medicine ⋆ jack of all trades, he's super smart and good at everything, plus goes out of his way to learn a little bit from the other specialities ⋆ he gets along with all of the elderly patients because he gets to swap recipes and other fun life hacks with them, but also gets hit on A LOT. ⋆ hands down, the worst doctor to get ahold of/find because ⋆ 1) he's got long ass legs and is able to scale the entire ward in a few steps OR ⋆ 2) he's sleeping somewhere where he isn't supposed to be and nobody has knows when's the last time they saw him. ⋆ was once confused for a family member because he fell asleep in a chair in a patient's room after exchanging home recipes with each other and was only found because his pager wouldn't stop beeping ⋆ still strikingly good looking even after pulling 18 hour shifts HELLO ⋆ nurses have genuinely considered putting a gps tracker in his shoe or in his white coat, but couldn't get it approved by the ethics committee

⋆ ﹕₊˚ hansol, pathology ⋆ home boy is in a world by himself... and his trusty microscope ⋆ he and jihoon have weekly therapy sessions where they complain and rant about how the other members keep busting into their respective offices for menial things ⋆ takes photos of cool stains and samples that he sees and sends it to the group chat, only for everyone to be so far distanced from their last histology course that they have no idea what he's freaking out about most of the time ⋆ the only person who knows what's up in the group chat is joshua, the hospital dermatologist ⋆ somewhat appreciates emergency doctor hoshi's comments about the cool colors and funny shapes ⋆ super chill, doesn't take offense when people ask him to reinterpret samples ⋆ the pathology lab always has the best music playing in it, especially when hansol's working. sometimes, can be found hunched over a microscope with earbuds in, or his personal playlist is softly playing in the background ⋆ literally vibing

[honey-dewey]

When I’m Older and I’m Wiser

Pairing: Marcus Moreno/ Dentist Reader

Word Count: 4,262

Warnings: General medical fic involving dentistry and recovering from wisdom tooth surgery. Mentions of pills, blood, needles, and Marcus being very high. Some use of (F/N) (L/N), but not much.

How the hell Marcus Moreno has gotten this far in his life without getting his wisdom teeth removed is beyond you. But that fateful day comes, and honestly you really should just quit being the Heroic’s dentist because it’s probably taking years off your life. Mostly because your current patient is very cute, very high, and in your care for the next 24 hours, which is a dangerous combination.

“Ow.” 

Missy looked over from where she’d been getting a second glass of milk, turning her attention to her dad. Marcus was staring at the eggs on his plate, seemingly frozen. The look on his face could only be described as offended, as if the eggs had just bit him back. 

“What’s wrong?” She asked, sitting back down and nudging Marcus with her foot. 

“Hurts,” Marcus mumbled, putting a hand to his cheek. The last thing he had expected was pain upon eating scrambled eggs, but it was there. 

Missy shrugged, digging into her own eggs. “Could it be a cavity?” 

Marcus shook his head, moving his hand to his other cheek. “Both sides.” 

“Two cavities?” 

Giving Missy a playful dirty look, Marcus took another bite of eggs, face scrunching when the pain persisted. 

Missy raised an eyebrow, and Marcus suddenly regretted having a tiny powerhouse of a daughter. “When was the last time you saw Dr. (L/N)?”

“Uh,” Marcus squirmed a bit under her judgmental gaze, thinking back. “I made an appointment right before your mother passed, but then she died and we were in mourning, and then I quit actively hero-ing full time, and then I took a while off to raise you, and then I started my new job, and then I was kidnapped by aliens, so I dunno. A few years?” 

“A few years?” Missy said, cocking her head slightly. “You make me go every six months!” 

“You’re still growing!” Marcus defended. “I’d be an awful parent if I didn’t keep up with your health.” 

Missy sighed. “Please tell me you’ve seen an actual doctor recently.” 

Marcus nodded. “Saw my GP last month.” 

“Good,” Missy said. “Can you see Dr. (L/N) today please?” 

Again, Marcus nodded. “Y’know, sometimes I wonder just who’s running this household.” 

“It’s me.” 

“I know kiddo. I know.”

Their drive to Heroic headquarters was silent, but comfortable, as it usually was. Marcus parked, the throbbing in his jaw just getting worse as he and Missy got on the bus into headquarters. Missy broke off in the reception area, heading down the hall with a wave. Marcus waved back, smiling at her as she disappeared. 

Wiping his hands on his shirt, Marcus walked up to the receptionist, who gave him a friendly smile. “Hello Marcus, what can I do for you?” 

“Hey Rhea,” Marcus said, leaning slightly on the counter. “When’s my first meeting?” 

Rhea hummed, putting his name into the computer and clicking a few times. “Looks like your earliest meeting is at 2:30.” 

“Awesome,” Marcus groaned. “Does Dr. (L/N) have any available appointments in the morning?” 

“Has someone been skipping out on the dentist?” Rhea said jokingly, moving to a different computer screen. “Was it Missy who made you go?” 

“Yeah.” 

Rhea laughed. “That kid,” she said softly. “And you’re in luck. Dr. (L/N) has an available appointment in half an hour, at nine. I’ll get you set up with it, okay?” 

Marcus sighed. “Yeah, that works. Thank you Rhea. I’ll see you later.” 

He waited for his appointment in the hero lounge, reading a book and chewing absently on his thumb nail. When his watch read ten 'til nine, he put his book in his bag and began to make his way down to the medical wing of the building. 

The medical wing was not one Marcus was in frequently. He knew some of the staff, but not all of them. But he waved to them all the same, eventually reaching the dentist’s section with five minutes to spare. 

“Mr. Moreno!” The nurse behind the reception counter said cheerily. “I thought it had to be a mistake when I saw you had an appointment.” 

“Please,” Marcus said. “Just Marcus will do.” 

The nurse nodded. “Of course. The doctor will be right out. You’re her first of the day, and honestly, I think she thought your name was a typo too. It’s been too long.” 

Marcus sighed. “Yeah. Missy chewed me out about that earlier.” 

“I’ll bet.” The nurse gestured to a row of chairs. “Take a seat. I’ll go see if the doc is ready.” 

Marcus sat down, rubbing his hands up and down his thighs in an effort to calm his nerves. 

“Moreno?” 

He looked up, heart suddenly beating fast. Standing in the doorway that separated the waiting room from the actual office was Dr. (L/N), looking very expectant and a tiny bit disappointed. 

———

Marcus stood, following you back into the office. His steps behind you were nervous, a high contrast to the confident clicking of your shoes. 

“Long time no see,” you said, pushing open a door and gesturing Marcus into the exam room. “What finally brought you back?” 

“Aside from Missy?” Marcus asked, sitting in the chair and rocking his left foot back and forth on the ankle. “I woke up this morning and it hurt to eat breakfast.” 

You nodded, washing your hands and donning a pair of gloves. “And there wasn’t any pain last night?” 

“Maybe a tiny bit.” Marcus watched you sit on a rolling stool, moving so you were just at his side. “But nothing I was worried about.” 

You crossed your legs, thinking. “Did you do any intense training in the past 24 hours?”

“Nothing involving my head.” 

“Well then it’s probably just a cavity or two,” you decided, rolling closer to Marcus’s head and putting both feet on the floor. “Let’s take a look, get some x-rays, and see if we can’t have you feeling better soon.” 

You adjusted the chair so Marcus was staring up at the ceiling, and at a large space mobile you’d hung ages ago. “Ready?” 

“As I’ll ever be.” 

You smiled, pulling a mask up over your nose. “Relax Marcus. I’m not gonna hurt you on purpose.” 

Marcus still squirmed a bit as you examined his mouth, your brows knitting tighter and tighter as you realized this wasn’t a simple case of a few cavities. 

“Marcus,” you said slowly, sitting him up and tugging your mask down under your chin. “You’re in your forties, right?”

“Yeah?” 

“Please tell me you don’t still have your wisdom teeth.” 

Marcus shrugged. “I don’t know. Why? Is that a bad thing?” 

“Most people have theirs removed when they’re teenagers,” you explained, pulling down the x-ray machine. “That way, there’s less risk of nerve damage. It’s not a bad thing to have them removed later in life, but it does come with higher risks.” 

“Oh.” The reassurance didn’t comfort Marcus much as you softly directed him through the various x-rays. 

You pulled the piece of plastic out of his mouth as the final x-ray hit your computer. “Sorry about that,” you said, watching Marcus rub his face. “I know it sucks. But, good news, I have an answer for you.” 

You let Marcus turn so he was facing your computer. “It’s definitely your wisdom teeth,” you said, tugging your gloves off and pointing at the computer screen. “See? All four of them are coming in, which is impressive. I can probably take them out tomorrow, honestly. Those suckers can get really painful really fast, so we’re gonna want to take care of it as soon as possible.” 

Marcus paled. “Tomorrow?” 

“That would be best.” You put a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, it’ll be okay. I do one of these surgeries like, once a month. I know what I’m doing, and you’re going to be just fine.” 

“Okay,” Marcus said, nodding and staring at you. “I believe you.” 

You smiled. “Perfect. So I can schedule your surgery for super early tomorrow, I’m thinking around seven, maybe seven thirty. We wanna get it out of the way early because you can’t eat anything for twelve hours beforehand.” As you explained, you gathered some papers from a desk drawer. “I assume you want general anesthesia.” 

“Is that the option where I sleep through it all?” 

“Yep,” you said, stapling the papers together and handing them to Marcus. “As per protocol, we’re going to need reassurance you’ll be with a responsible adult guardian for at least forty eight, if not seventy two hours post surgery. The first twelve to twenty hour can be brutal, so you definitely want someone there during that.”

Marcus shook his head. “I haven’t got anyone besides my mom, who I assumed would be taking Missy while I healed.” 

“That’s okay,” you promised. “We can get someone here to care for you for two days. You’d have to stay here at headquarters, but you’d be comfortable and cared for. Whatever you do, I’ll call in some pain prescriptions and the like for you to pick up after work today. Just see the pharmacy out front and they’ll give the pills to you.” 

You stood, gesturing Marcus up. “So, to recap. Get here early tomorrow, no food after seven tonight, and wear comfy clothes. Most patients go with sweatpants, but you go with whatever is most comfortable to you. Bring a change of pyjamas and your prescriptions if you’re staying with us, and I’ll see you tomorrow Mr. Moreno,” you said as you led him back to the lobby. 

Tomorrow came faster than anticipated, and before you knew it, it was seven AM and you were waiting for Marcus with your nurse beside you. 

“Damn his mouth is messed up,” the nurse mumbled, looking over the x-rays. “All four?” 

“All four,” you agreed, smiling as the lobby door opened. “Mr. Moreno! Follow me. I assume you stuck with the rules I gave you yesterday?” 

“Yeah,” Marcus said, handing you the paper bag with his prescriptions and a small drawstring bag that presumably had clothes in it. “I’m gonna be staying here.” 

“Perfect,” you said, pushing open the operating room door. “I see we’re dressed for the occasion.” 

Marcus turned red, looking down at his soft black sleep pants and a worn out Fleetwood Mac shirt. “Yeah.” 

You put Marcus’s stuff down on the counter, handing him a small white cup. “That is a super powerful mouthwash,” you explained. “Take it, and do try and keep it in your mouth for a minute. I know it tastes horrible.” 

Marcus did try, but he only made it to thirty seconds before he had to spit out the disgustingly bitter mouthwash. 

You laughed at his face, pulling on your gloves. “Alright Marcus, that works.” 

He smiled softly, relaxing a tiny bit. “Thanks.” 

“I wouldn’t thank anyone who made me take that stuff,” you said, grabbing a thin tube and holding it out. “That goes under your nose and over your ears, just like that,” you praised as Marcus threaded the tube over his ears. “Now, can I see your hand?” 

Marcus let you clip a heart rate monitor to his right index finger, watching as you walked to his other side and held up the final thing. “And last, but not least.” 

Immediately, Marcus looked extremely nervous again. You put down the IV line and rubbed his shoulder, trying to work away some of the tension. “Hey. Look at me. Just a pinch, and then you can take a nice long nap, okay? Deep breaths Marcus, deep breaths.” 

Marcus took a breath, and you carefully took your hand off his shoulder. You slowly directed his head onto the chair’s headrest, still murmuring reassurances. “That’s it. Count the stars on my mobile out loud. I can’t remember how many there are.” 

“Okay.” Marcus looked up, slowly counting out loud as you found his vein and stuck him with the IV line as quickly as you could. You administered some of the anesthesia, smiling as Marcus’s numbers began to slip and slide, until he wasn’t even counting as much as he was just mumbling out random mushy words. 

“Goodnight Marcus.” 

You gestured the nurse in, and she smiled, taking Marcus’s glasses and setting them on top of his other things. You finished off the anesthesia, watching Marcus’s eyes close. 

When he woke again, it was to you pulling the IV line out and taping a cotton ball to his arm. “Wa’s happ’nin’?” He slurred around the cotton and the drugs. 

“The surgery was a success,” you explained softly, despite Marcus not really understanding you. “All four teeth came out with no issue, and we’re about to take you to recovery. Oh, Marcus, keep your head up.” 

Marcus struggled to keep his head upright, and you giggled, holding your hands out. “C’mon. Let’s get you into a real bed.” 

You’d been through this with many patients before Marcus, but he seemed to be a stand-out, as you had some trouble getting him in the wheelchair and down the hallways into the recovery wing. He definitely fell under the ever entertaining category of ‘toddler high’ patients. His slurred words and puppy dog eyes made you laugh more than once on your way to his room. You actually had to stop and pause to laugh when he slurred out that he thought you were an Angel. He simply watched you with an exaggerated worried expression, half his words getting lost as he tried to mumble something out. 

“What was that Marcus?” You asked, wiping your eyes and continuing down the hall with him. 

“You’re tho prethy.” He said, head tipping down. 

“Head up,” you coaxed softly, smiling despite yourself. “Look, there’s your room.” 

Getting him in the room, which was more of a small, one person condo space, was thankfully the hardest part. But once you were in, he was very sleepy putty in your hands. 

“Okay Marcus,” you said gently, helping him out of the wheelchair and onto the couch, piling a few pillows beneath his head “Do you want anything before you go to sleep?” 

Marcus looked up at you. Between his cotton stuffed cheeks and his wide doe eyes, he looked a tiny bit ridiculous. You smiled, pulling out your phone and snapping a quick picture while he was still drugged as hell. “Marcus?” 

“Mittenth.” 

“What?” 

Marcus pointed to his bag. “Mittenth.” 

You walked over to the bag, opening it up and finding a black and white stuffed cat right on top. “Oh. Mittens.” 

You handed the cat to Marcus, who immediately snuggled it to his chest and rolled over a bit, falling asleep instantly. 

Again, you couldn’t help but stare. He looked so innocent like this, all curled up and sleeping. You hesitated to call him adorable, but if the shoe fit.

You sighed, picking up your phone and trailing into the single bedroom. Changing quickly into your leisure clothes, you texted one of the people at the pharmacy and requested a few ice packs and a wisdom tooth slushee. Both things were delivered in a matter of minutes, and you placed them securely in the small freezer to wait for Marcus. 

When he woke up, he was significantly less high. Looking around, Marcus poked his cheeks and made a face. “I can’t feel my nose.” 

“The entire bottom half of your face is numb,” you pointed out from your position at the two person table in the kitchen. “And believe me, you’re gonna want it to stay that way.” 

Marcus sat up, looking over at you. “I’m hungry.” 

“No solids for a while,” you told him, standing and grabbing his slushee. “But you can have this. And before you ask, yes you have to use the spoon.” 

Marcus pouted, but took the slushee. “But the cotton.” 

You nodded, settling on the couch next to him. “Open wide.” 

Marcus did, allowing you to shove two fingers into his mouth and fish out the cotton. “Still bleeding,” you mumbled to yourself. “We’ll shove more in there when you’re done. For now,” You tipped the slushee at him. “Eat up.” 

You turned your attention to the TV while Marcus ate slowly, taking tiny bites and occasionally sticking his tongue out. “It’s really numb.” 

“That’ll fade by tomorrow morning,” you promised. “At noon I want you to take your first pills. Then you get more at one.” 

Again, Marcus pouted, but simply sank lower into the couch cushions and mindlessly watched whatever was on TV. “Is my face swelling?” 

You shrugged. “No more than other patients. But yeah, just a bit.” 

“Do I look stupid?” 

The question made you laugh. “Marcus, I’ve had so many ridiculous patients. You’re no worse than some of my other ones, I promise.” 

Marcus accepted this and continued to take small bites of his slushee. “Why’s it gotta be blue?” 

“Because blue isn’t even remotely close to red.” You didn’t even look up as you answered. “Same goes for when little kids get teeth pulled. You want something that’s soft, easy to swallow, and isn’t the color of blood.” 

“Oh.” 

You nodded. “Yeah. How’s your mouth feeling?” 

Marcus mulled it over, eventually deciding on saying “Kinda achy.” 

“I’ll give you those pills soon,” you said. “It’s gonna be tricky, considering any kind of anything touching those holes in your mouth is gonna hurt like a bitch.” 

“Even water?” 

“Even water.” 

Marcus groaned, and you shrugged. “Sorry. But you’re the one who waited until now to do this.” 

When Marcus finished his slushee, you grabbed a pill bottle off the kitchen counter, quickly glancing at the label and nodding. “Two of these,” you said, opening a cabinet and taking out a glass. “Come here.” 

Marcus trudged over, leaning heavily against the counter’s edge. You put the two round pills on the counter, along with the glass of water. “Best to do it quickly. And one at a time.”  

Picking up one of the pills, Marcus carefully put it on his tongue, taking the glass with a hesitant hand. He took a sip, swallowing quickly and audibly. “Can’t I use a straw?” 

“Yeah,” you said sarcastically. “If you want dry socket, go ahead.” 

“Do I want to know what that is?” 

“Nope.” You pushed the second pill towards Marcus. “Take that, then you can lay back down.” 

Marcus sighed, mirroring his previous action. However, instead of simply swallowing with a tight face, Marcus started, eyes filling with tears as he spit the water into the sink, the pill clattering against the metal. 

You immediately began to worry as Marcus cried. It wasn’t a small tear or two either. He was full on sobbing, gripping the edges of the sink so tight his knuckles went white. 

“Marcus,” you murmured, putting a hand on his arm. He looked up at you, and you put on your most comforting smile. “Hey, it’s okay.” You picked up a towel and slowly wiped the residual water off his face. “C’mere.” 

He collapsed into your arms, going limp and continuing to cry. You rubbed his back, heart tightening whenever he let out a whimper of “hurts.” 

“I know,” you said softly. “I know it hurts. But you have to take the pills.” 

“Can’t,” Marcus hiccuped, burying himself deeper into your sweater. 

“Marcus,” you said firmly, slowly untangling him from you. “I know it hurts. But you’ll be in more pain from not taking the pills. Please, for me?” 

He took a breath. “Can we watch TV afterwards?” 

You smiled. “Of course. I can give you ice for the swelling too.” 

Marcus nodded, looking into the sink. “Do I take that one?” 

“No,” you said, fishing a new pill out of the container. “It’s in the sink, I’m not gonna take that risk. Here.” 

Marcus stared at the unassuming white pill in his hand. “Which one is this?” 

“The acetaminophen.” 

“The what?” 

“Tylenol.” 

Marcus nodded, popping the pill into his mouth and quickly gulping down the water. This time, he avoided hitting his stitches and simply handed you the glass. “I’m not doing that again.” 

You took the glass, putting it in the sink. “You have more pills to take in an hour.” 

Marcus groaned. “TV?” 

“Of course,” you said, walking to the couch and smiling as Marcus fell onto it. “What do you wanna watch?” 

Marcus turned his red rimmed puppy dog eyes on you. “Say Yes to the Dress?” 

You laughed. “Are you serious? We can, but that’s not what I expected at all.” 

“I like trash TV when I feel terrible.” Marcus grabbed Mittens and cuddled the stuffed cat to his chest. 

You found the show, setting it up and standing. “More cotton. You're probably still bleeding, and we definitely don’t want that. Open.” 

It took some finessing to get two more wads of cotton into Marcus’s mouth, but you succeeded, despite his complaints of feeling like a cartoon chipmunk. 

 “I’m gonna go start on dinner,” you said.  “Are you gonna be okay here?” 

Marcus pouted. “Do you have to start now?” 

“Yeah.” You gestured to the kitchen. “Don’t worry, I’ll only be gone for twenty minutes. Soup just needs to sit for a while.” 

Slightly consoled, Marcus zoned out at the TV while you got to work making a simple chicken noodle soup. 

“Done,” you said, wiping your hands and walking back to the couch twenty minutes later. “Marcus, are you still awake?” 

Marcus grumbled, holding his hands out. “C’mere.” 

You passed him an ice pack, and he made a face. “Not what I want.” 

“What do you want?” 

As if somehow knowing they were your kryptonite, Marcus gave you his puppy dog eyes. “Wanna hold you.” 

You sighed, but crawled into his arms anyway. When you finally settled, he was on his back, head and neck propped up on the arm of the couch, and you were on your side between the back of the couch and Marcus. He was warm, wrapping one arm loosely over your waist and using the other hand to press the ice into his cheek. 

You quickly slid into a nice comfortable headspace, occasionally smiling when Marcus commented on the wedding dresses on screen. 

“You dropped Mittens,” you realized after a while, shuffling to grab the discarded toy from the floor. 

Marcus took Mittens, gently placing the cat on his chest, so that it was secure on his sternum. 

“Does Mittens belong to Missy?” 

“Belonged to Clara.” 

“Oh.” You saw the change in demeanor, noticed how Marcus’s face steeled when he said her name. He rarely talked about Clara, especially at work. “I’m-“ 

“Nah,” Marcus said, shaking his head. “It’s the past. I’m happy now, and so is Mittens.” 

You nestled deeper into his chest. “Happy right now?” 

“Definitely happy right now,” Marcus said softly. “Very happy, even though I can’t feel my face.” 

“Even if you could,” you mumbled, knowing where this was headed. “You can’t kiss anyone for a while.” 

Marcus grinned. “I guess we’ll just have to wait then, won’t we?” 

You mirrored his mischievous smile. “You can’t kiss,” you said, scooting upwards, until you were laying on top of Marcus, your belly on his ribs. “But I can.” 

You lay gentle kisses across his cheeks, smiling when he laughed at your insistence upon kissing his nose. His cheeks were cold from the ice and tender from the swelling, but Marcus never tried to stop you, so you continued downwards, kissing the pulse points on his neck. 

“You’re a damn tease,”  Marcus huffed. 

You simply smiled into his skin and tugged the collar of his shirt down, pressing firm kisses into the points of his collarbones.

“Hey,” Marcus nudged your head. “Can we finish this when I don’t have a mouth of stitches? I still can’t feel my tongue.” 

“Of course,” you said, pushing his shirt collar back up and laying your head on his sternum. “How long?” 

“Hm?” 

You shrugged, watching a woman try on a stunning wedding dress on the TV. “How long have you wanted to kiss me?” 

Marcus thought it over. “Last year,” he finally decided. “When Missy had three teeth out. You were so kind, and I just melted.” 

“But you didn’t fall in love hard enough to ever pay me a visit,” you teased, tracing the faded symbol on his shirt. 

“Didn’t ever want to go under and realize I’d spilled everything,” Marcus confessed. 

You smiled. “Too late. You said I looked like an Angel in the hallway.” 

Marcus turned bright red, and you laughed at him. “It’s okay,” you promised, kissing his cheek that didn’t have the ice pack. “I think you’re pretty handsome yourself.” 

That night, after dinner and more pills and ice cream for dessert, you and Marcus settled down in the only bedroom, clinging to each other as if your lives depended on it. 

Waking up was hard. Marcus was well enough to go home, most of the swelling gone and the numbness completely faded. 

“So,” you clicked down the halls of the dentist’s office, Marcus behind you. “No really hot liquids for another few days, and try not to do solids until then either. That antibacterial mouthwash should be used twice a day, and you can start brushing your teeth again in two days. Remember, no straws, take your pills, keep icing your cheeks, and if I see you in this office before this time next week, I will be calling your mother.” 

Marcus nodded as you pulled open the lobby door, where Anita and Missy were waiting. “Anything else Doctor?” 

You shook your head. “You should be all clear Mr. Moreno. I’ll be seeing you for your check-up next week. Don’t you go skipping out on me now.” 

Marcus smiled. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” he promised, leaning a bit closer to you. “And I cannot wait to kiss you for real.” 

He pulled away, leaving you flushed and dizzy. “See you next week Doctor.” 

“See you next week Mr. Moreno.”

If you liked this, I do dialogue prompt requests as well! Go request something if you want!

[suituuup]

When Beca Mitchell is diagnosed with MS, she agonises over what it will mean for her career and more importantly, her relationship. But if there’s one thing Chloe Beale knows for a fact, it’s that nothing, including MS, will get in the way of their love.

for better or worse

Rating: T

ao3 link

*

Multiple Sclerosis.

Beca blinks at the doctor’s words as she sits in his office, the news shaking her to the core. The last few weeks have been a whirlwind of medical tests ever since Beca went to her GP after dealing for months with blurred vision, vertigo, pains in her hands, and general exhaustion.

She didn’t think much of it at first. Work has been crazy since the start of the year and Beca’s been too excited about Chloe’s pregnancy to focus on her state, but Chloe has been worried it might be more serious and insisted she got some tests done.

Beca’s heard of MS before, but isn’t sure of what it means or if there’s a treatment for it. “What-- um… How is that going to affect my life, exactly?”

She suddenly wishes she’d said yes when Chloe offered to take the afternoon off to come with her to this appointment, because she really needs a hand to hold right now. Beca assured her it would be fine, that it was probably nothing.

But now… she’s fucking terrified.

It doesn’t help that her doctor doesn’t have time to answer all those questions barreling into her brain at full speed, instead sending her home with a few pamphlets and the number of a specialist.

Beca’s walk home is a complete blur, her feet carrying her on auto-pilot back to their building complex. She spends the rest of the afternoon online, researching whatever she can on the disease. Her panic only grows the more she learns about it, and when Chloe steps through the door an hour later, Beca’s still sat on the couch with her computer propped against her thighs, pamphlets and handwritten notes sprawled around her as she stares blankly at her screen.

Two words have etched their ways into her skull.

No cure.

“Babe?” Chloe asks as she takes off her coat, hanging it by the door. “What did the doctor say? I got worried when I didn’t get a text after I got out of surgery.”

Beca snaps out of her daze, her gaze finding her wife’s as she rounds the corner to their living room. Chloe’s eyes drop to the documents laying next to Beca, and she takes it between her fingers, her silence deafening as she reads the title.

“Oh my god,” she eventually croaks out, her trembling hand blindly reaching out for the back of the couch as she lowers herself on the surface. “You should have called me.”

Beca shrugs. “I know you were in the middle of surgery,” she says quietly, puffing out a breath as her eyes roll towards the ceiling to keep from crying. “So this really fucking sucks.”

She knows a dozen of questions if not more are hindering Chloe’s ability to think right now, much like they did to her back at the doctor’s office, and Beca reaches across the pamphlets to cover Chloe’s hand.

“I have an appointment with a specialist next week, she’ll answer any questions we have.”

Chloe visibly swallows, blinking away the moisture in her eyes. “Right, okay.” A few tears slide down her cheeks despite her efforts to get rid of them, and she hastily wipes them off, swearing under her breath. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t,” Beca requests softly, squeezing her hand. “I know it’s a lot.”

Chloe shuffles closer, draping her legs over Beca’s and snuggling into her side. “I love you.”

Closing her eyes, Beca basks into the comfort only her wife’s affection can provide. She knows whatever’s ahead of her, they’ll figure out how to live with it. “I love you, too.”

The next few weeks and months don’t bring much change to Beca’s daily life. She’s still tired and achy, but it doesn’t prevent her from going to work and getting the job done on her many projects. She can tell Chloe is trying her best to be supportive without crossing to the overbearing side of things.

Her first relapse shows up six months after her diagnosis. It starts with blurry vision towards the end of her work day and dizziness throughout the evening. She retreats to bed around seven and sleeps for twelve hours, waking up in more pain than she’s ever felt before. Her limbs feel exceptionally heavy and tingly all over, and it takes Beca a few minutes to realize the bedding underneath her is damp, and so are her pajamas bottoms.

Humiliation washes over her in a cold sweat when it dawns on her that she peed herself during the night. She can hear Chloe in the shower and is determined for her wife not to find out about that shameful episode, attempting to get up to change the sheets. Her body is not agreeing with her though, and the simple act of sitting up is too much for her weakened muscles that she soon gives up altogether.

The reality of her disease crashes into her all at once, the emotional turmoil she’s been trying to push down over the last few months spiraling in her chest like a tiny tornado. She bursts into tears right there, ugly sobs wrecking her from the inside out as she curls up into a fetal position.

“Baby?” She feels a hand on her arm and burrows deeper in the covers. “It’s okay, let it out.”

“I can’t get up,” she eventually manages, opening her eyes to find Chloe staring at her in concern. “I can’t get up.”

“Oh, babe…” Chloe strokes her hair gently and leans in to kiss her forehead. “I’ll call your work, okay? Tell them you’re not feeling well. You stay in bed, I’ll be right back.”

It takes Chloe a few minutes to do so, and she comes back with a glass of water which she sets on Beca’s bedside table.

“Do you want to eat anything?”

Beca shakes her head faintly. “Chlo…” Her chest tightens with shame. “I need to get up.”

“No, you don’t. Work can wait, alright? You need to take care of yourself first.”

Beca shakes her head once more. Even finding words is exhausting. It feels as though her brain is all fogged up. “I wet the bed.”

Realization and brief shock flash in Chloe’s eyes, but she quickly recovers. “Okay, that’s okay. I’ll help you up and change the sheets, alright?”

Beca whimpers; Chloe is her wife, not her caretaker, she shouldn’t have to do this. But It’s not like they have much of a choice right now.

“Come on, I’ll help you into the shower.”

With Chloe’s help, Beca manages to slowly shuffle towards the bathroom. She sits down on the toilet, more tears leaking out of her eyes as she takes in her current state.

“Hey,” Chloe whispers, kneeling beside her and cupping her cheek tenderly. “Nothing to be ashamed about. It’s not your fault.”

Beca remains silent, keeping her eyes fastened on the bathroom tile.

“I’ll go grab a chair so you can sit in the shower, okay?”

“K,” Beca mutters.

Chloe returns less than a minute later and helps Beca undress, then helps her into the shower. Beca is thankfully strong enough to wash herself so Chloe doesn’t have to do it for her, though it feels like a work-out of its own.

“Chlo?” She calls out ten minutes later. “I’m ready.”

“Coming!”

Chloe’s obviously seen Beca naked more times than Beca can count, but not like this; frail and weak and unable to fucking take care of herself. She wraps a large towel around Beca’s body and guides her back to the toilet.

“I took today off, too,” Chloe says as she rubs Beca’s skin dry.

Beca wants to argue with that, but she can’t; she doesn’t know how worse it’s going to get throughout the day and doesn’t feel like she can deal with it on her own.

“Thanks,” she croaks out, sniffling. “‘M’sorry I’m like this.”

“There’s nothing to apologize for,” Chloe murmurs, glancing up. “You hear me?”

Beca puffs out a breath and eventually nods. Chloe helps her put on a clean pair of pajamas, long sleeve shirt and a hoodie, and Beca settles down on the couch with a blanket, preferring to be in the living room.

She weaves in and out of sleep for the next few hours, waking up just after lunch claiming she’s not hungry. She does accept the herbal tea Chloe makes her, and Chloe settles at the head of the couch once she’s done drinking it, Beca propping her head onto her lap.

“Maybe you should think about telling your boss?”

Beca has avoided doing so since finding out, because she didn’t see the point of making a bigger deal out of it than it was up until today.

“I know, I just…” She sighs. “I’m afraid the label might give me shitty projects if I tell them. What I’m doing right now, it’s been my dream for so long, Chlo. And I finally have it and now--” She inhales sharply, forcing the lump in her throat back down. “I’m terrified it might crumble. Not only my job, but our marriage whenever it becomes too hard for you and--”

“Baby,” Chloe interrupts softly, stroking Beca’s forehead with the pad of her thumb. “That is not going to happen. I’m not going anywhere.”

“You don’t know that,” Beca croaks out. As much as she wants to believe Chloe, neither of them has a crystal ball to predict the future. “We don’t know how bad it might get. I could lose my sight, or not be able to walk anymore or-- we have a baby on the way. I just, I can’t be a burden to you.”

“We’ll learn to live with it,” Chloe murmurs, sliding her free hand in Beca’s. “This is all so new, we need to find our footing. You just started your treatment, and the relapses aren’t going to last forever. We’ll find professional help for whenever you do have them, and losing your sight or ability to walk is not going to make me love you any less, Bec.”

Beca swallows. “Promise me you’ll put yourself first if it becomes too much, okay? Promise me.”

If the disease were to ruin her life, Beca doesnt want it to ruin Chloe’s or their child’s as well.

“Okay, I promise,” Chloe whispers, blinking back tears. “I love you so much.”

Beca closes her eyes, letting those words wash over her. “I love you, too.” She twists her head to press her lips to the gentle swell of Chloe’s belly. “And you.”

She’s bedridden for four days, and requires the use of crutches for a week after that as her balance is really off. There’s no more avoiding possible in telling her boss about her condition, but he proves to be incredibly understanding and reassuring about Beca’s future with the label.

Over the next few months, she works with a personal coach to strengthen her balance, and finds a neurologist who specializes in MS. It takes a little while, but they eventually manage to find a treatment for which the side effects aren’t too heavy and which considerably slows down the progress of the disease.

Chloe is incredibly supportive, not that Beca is at all surprised, and somehow, learning to live with MS brings them closer and strengthens their bond.

She relapses a few months after Micah’s birth, and Chloe’s parents move in for the couple weeks it lasts as Beca can’t do much to help out. Micah’s presence keeps her from falling in a depressive state over that lapse of time where getting out of bed is difficult, as her entire right side is paralized. He often naps with her, or hangs out on she and Chloe’s bed during tummy time, his smiles and gurgles keeping Beca afloat.

“Hi,” Chloe whispers as she rounds the corner, hearts flashing from her eyes as she takes in the scene before her. Micah is fast asleep sprawled across Beca’s torso, his fingers curled around loose fabric from her top.

“Hey,” Beca attempts a smile, though it comes out crooked as she can’t control the right side of her mouth. “How was work?”

Her speech is slurred, too, but Chloe manages to understand her most of the time.

Still clad in her scrubs, Chloe gently climbs into bed, settling on her side beside her family. She kisses Beca’s cheek. “It was alright. I missed you guys, though.”

“Missed you, too.”

“My parents just went out to get groceries,” Chloe lets her know. “How’s my sexy pirate doing?”

Due to vision loss in her right eye, Beca wears an eye-patch to lessen skewed vision. She should regain her sight once she’s in remission.

“Feeling very unsexy,” she replies with a soft chuckle. “Same old. My leg’s been tingling though so that’s progress.”

“You’ll be walking again soon,” Chloe states, smiling softly. “And the three of us can have a fun day at the park.”

“Mhm, that sounds perfect.” She sighs as Chloe’s head finds her shoulder, and twists her head to kiss her hair.

As Micah grows up, he learns that sometimes his Mama has “bad days”, which means she can’t get out of bed much. One of his things whenever he’s home during those times is to move his toys to Mama’s room and play quietly on the floor so she’s not lonely. He also naps next to her and reads stories to keep her entertained, and sometimes wears an eye patch when she has to, so he can be a pirate himself.

He and Chloe are Beca’s sunshine, always there to battle the clouds with smiles, laughter and hugs, whenever they get too dark.

[tmitransitioning]

Hi, I'd like to get bottom surgery in the US some time 2021-2022 somewhere east coast - NY/NJ preferred as I was born/lived there, but been overseas for 20 years. I am one year on T and got top surgery (neither required referrals). I understand that some places in the US require referral and some don't. I don't have any referrals other than my HRT provider (and the top surgery surgeon and I have no idea if that qualifies) Ideas?

Generally the way it works is less that you need a literal referral (you can't see them without the permission from another provider), but that you select the provider that you want to see, call them up (or email them), book the appointment, then you see your GP/primary care doctor/internist/main healthcare provider and therapist/psychiatrist/mental health care provider and get any required letters. These letters are just clearance letters (the GP letter is called the referral) that say "hey, i checked this person out and they're healthy and sane enough to decide they can have surgery and will survive it." IF you don't have a medical or mental health care provider, you can ask the surgeon's office what they recommend.

[transgalthoughts]

Guide to transitioning on a budget when you’re scared to come out but certain you want to

There are a few components to this: budgeting, getting treatment, coming out, general life stuff

BUDGETING First and centrally is budgeting. I don’t know what your income is so I’m not going to assume, but here is what my expenditure has been and what I think is reasonable as a goal if you do not have uncontrollable overheads you can’t help - additionally you may find some of my spending to be a bit much (£600 a month rent is quite steep, but cos I live in Oxford and the utilities and everything are included in that price it works out as a fairly decent option)

£600 a month shared housing (+ utilities, council tax etc). This is for Oxford, you can probably find it cheaper in most other places.

£200 a month monthly spending - use a budgeting app like Emma (you will probably need to spend more if you need a car, but try and avoid one if you can, cycling is a good transport option. You should do big shops every week or two, NOT regular small ones, you will spend more. If you are really committed to making headway quickly then unfortnately you can’t go out, it will eat up money like nothing else, try and see your friends in person at your house or theirs, you can be honest or say you don’t like the atmosphere. Cook in bulk using cheap ingredients - tinned and frozen food is a huge win. If you really want to cut down on spending make sure to buy vitamin pills and psyllium husk powder - you can eat less healthily without feeling like crap all the time if you’re eating stuff like this. If you want to eat super healthily try frozen mixed vegetables, tinned tomatoes, lentils, tinned fish, and tinned pulses all mixed together in a wok with smoked paprika and salt - it’s quite cheap, imo very tasty, and very healthy. 

Worth noting: over the course of a year your actual monthly spending is likely to be more liek £250 if you budget for £200 a month - you’ll need to replace phones and laptops and make big one off purchases occasionally, but remember the goal is saving, if you can avoid these costs then do (is your phone freezing for 20 seconds every half an hour really grounds for a replacement?) The £250 total spending per month is total spending - if you want to do something fun this should come out of other spending - not your savings 

Medications: inhousepharmacy is a good one - make sure to buy in bulk (this goes for everything). Don’t try and include this in monthly spending, try and include it in the £50 extra a month spending. Here is a good guide for the first purchase Cyproterone acetate - 300 50mg tablets for £202.22 (1 a day) Estrofem - 364 2mg tablets for £148.94 (start on 1 a day, maybe move up to two if you feel you need to and are comfortable) - take these sublingually to increase the effective dose without spending more. So, your overall cost of living per year should be approximately £10,700 - put the rest into premium bonds, you can take it out relatively easily and you’re guaranteed not to lose your money (if the UK government collapses you have bigger problems than your savings being gone).  If you’re earning £20k a year then you should be able to save £9,300 a year.  If you have the time and energy try getting into some work, especially gig economy work on top of your current job/time in university (deliveroo for example). 

GETTING TREATMENT  Before any of the savings stuff, before you are even sure you are trans, talk to your GP about it and say ytou want to be referred to a GIC. It will take 3 years - you will have plenty of time to find yourself within that time, and if you still haven’t you can find yourself in the GIC. DO NOT wait until you are absolutely sure before telling your GP, I know it is scary but you can do it, and it’s almost easier to do it when you’re not sure. If you wait for a year you will fucking hate yourself 2 years later when you have been waiting for treatment for what seems like your entire life at this point - and private GICs are expensive as fuck. 

If you can afford it go to a private GIC - if you want bottom or top surgery with any reputable surgery you will need to have been officially on hormones for a year, self-medding doesn’t count. There are a few options out there for you but most notably are genderGP (more expensive, but there is less expectation of you to prove you are trans, and they have no issue with previous self medding) and gendercare (less expensive but they may decide you are not quite trans enough - they are also less willing to take on patients who have previously self-medded). Additionally a lot of GPs will not work with (ie pay for the prescriptions for you on the recommendation of) any private GIC, but the ones that do are more willing to work with gendercare than genderGP - look into this more before deciding who you want to go with.  Do not underestimate the importance of the type of HRT you are using. Cyproterone acetate and oestrogen pills are fine. GnRH analogues and transdermal oestrogen patches work far more effectively and with fewer side effects (but GnRH analogues in particular are far more expensive). 

COMING OUT  Coming out all at once publically is gonna be really fucking daunting. You are gonna want to identify individuals and talk to them one on one about it first. These should be people you are close with and who you think are gonna be supportive (ideally both, not just one of the other, but prioritise those who you think are gonna be supportive first - you will gain confidence as you do it if you choose the right people, and lose it if you choose the wrong ones). You do not owe honesty to your parents about this. 

Once you have a good selection of people who you know who are supportive start thinking about how you want to play this - in particular how sure and scared you are. I decided to get FFS (facial feminisation surgery) BEFORE coming out publicly - but after 2 years on HRT (this restricts your choice of surgeons btw). I was absolutely certain before I did this and if you plan on doing this you should be too.  I got my surgery with Dr Jesus Baez in Guadalajara (lip lift, closed rhinoplasty, type t osteotomy, hairline advancement, eyebrow raise, forehead bone shaving) and it cost £12,000 for the surgery - but a lot more than that for everything else (so I spent around £16,000 in total - and that was being tight). However, that’s less than 2 years of saving on £20k a year, so get started now.  Voice training - do it, you can do it for free using transvoice on youtube - the main thing to practice if you have a deep, chest resonant voice is simply doing the *pah pah pah* exercise as often as you can (you can do it silently) and before you start talking to people. 

Also GPs can refer you for voice training directly, even if a GP is unwilling to work with a private GIC they might be willing to do with this (since there is no liability associated with referring you to train your voice more effectively). I haven’t done this but I expect there is gonna be a waiting list though. You really can’t voice train too often (though you can too much in one session).  HEALTH So as mentioned in the budgeting section it is very possible to eat healthily on a budget (well, the kind of budget I recommend, please please don’t try and push it too hard because you need to stay healthy for this - doctors, even gender specialists, are pretty unwilling to prescribe for trans health care because this country is transphobic, so you ideally want to be a picture of health before asking for treatment. Eat healthily, run, bulk up those legs and work that core (leg press, side leg raises with resistance band, crunches, squats, sit ups, reverse crunches, side crunches etc) - all of these things will a) improve the results of blood tests and make it easier to get a prescription, b) hopefully give you a body shape more in line with conventional standards for women and c) stimulate production of hgh which will make the estradiol more effective (but don’t even think of taking hgh as a medication without explicitly getting it prescribed by a doctor, it is seriously not worth it and it can fuck up your body a lot making it impossible to get effective treatment).  GOOD LUUUUCK!!!

[jenniferdiazisatransgirl]

My Journey

Hey everyone, As you will likely know by now I am a trans woman and I live in the UK where lately trans people have been under significant scrutiny by the press, government and groups claiming to be acting in the name of feminism.

One of the arguments used when not directly attacking trans people, is that the medical institutions that help us in the UK fast track us through transition, even the NHS and I know so many trans people in this country that I can say without a shadow of a doubt this is not true. This includes a significant number who have been under the care of Tavistock and Portman, the under 18s service which was recently banned from giving its patients hormone blockers without the approval of the courts.

But anyway, I’m gonna share my story and how lengthy the process actually is and I will warn ahead of time this deals with suicidal ideation, gatekeeping, mental health, etc. So proceed with caution. This will also be a long post.

September/October 2008

I can’t remember which month but it was just before my 16th birthday, my Dad encouraged me to go to my GP regarding my gender dysphoria. I lived with my transphobic Mum at the time and had to go behind her back which was terrifying to say the least. I saw a doctor called Dr Moulsher and explained everything I was going through and his response was, “I don’t think the NHS funds any of this.” He was very ignorant on trans issues but it actually fortunately worked out in my favour, I got lucky, I know, but he just wanted me off of his hands.

I explained in Sheffield there was a GIC (gender identity clinic) operated by the NHS known as Porterbrook and he was just like, “Oh right. Well I’m more than happy to refer you but they likely won’t see you till you are 18.”

He asked me some questions, wrote up a detailed report and put in the referral to “get the ball rolling” as he worded it.

I was terrified at the time of the referral letter going to my home address though and he was like, “Well it needs to be sent somewhere.” So he agreed to send it to my grandparents address.

Later That Year

About a month or so later a letter arrived at my grandparents saying I had been accepted onto Porterbrook’s waiting list, explaining it is substantially long, that they wouldn’t be able to see me till I’m 18, etc. Your typical boiler plate stuff. Also as I understand it they don’t typical accept referrals for under 18s so I got lucky there. I remember getting so excited when I got my letter though, that I took it into school to show all of my friends.

Back then it was a requirement that I have a mental health assessment while on the waiting list though. So I returned to Dr Moulsher who I had become rather comfortable with and had made him my regular GP. He made a referral to the local mental health clinic and that was that.

January/February 2009

A letter came in the post asking me to ring to book at appointment at the local mental health clinic. I couldn’t ring from home cos my Mum would overhear and she was spying on me a lot at the time due to really being against the fact I’m trans. My school - which was a Catholic school shockingly enough - had already decided my home environment had become so toxic that I needed removing from my Mum’s care. They would be a process that wouldn’t be completed till June 2010 but yeah, it had got that bad. Anyway, I ended up asking the school receptionist if I could ring on their phone to book the appointment. That was booked for February.

The appointment was a weird one to say the least. The doctor asked me a quite a lot of questions but these are the ones that stuck out.

So with this first one, I am going to preface with that as far as I am aware, I am white and of white ancestry for all the generations I know of. However I do have remarkably curly hair that left to its own devices grows into an afro (or at least what looks like an afro). So the first set of questions that stood out; Dr: What’s your mother’s ethnicity? Me: White British.

Dr: Sorry, did you say Afro-Caribbean? Me: No. White British. Dr: And your father’s ethnicity? Me: White British. Dr: Sorry, was that Afro-Caribbean?

Me: Nope. White British.

Not really sure how you can get Afro-Caribbean and White British verbally mixed up but he seemed very adamant at least one of my parents must be Afro-Caribbean.

He then later goes;

Dr: Do you have a partner?

Me: Yes.

Dr: Are they male or female?

Me: I have a girlfriend.

Dr: Then you can’t be trans. You can’t be trans if you like girls.

Me: What about lesbians?

Dr: That’s beside the point.

Shockingly, in the end he agreed with my GP’s assessment that I am trans but Jesus, as you can probably guess from above that mental health assessment was a minefield of weird.

24th October 2010

In June 2010, I was finally removed from my Mum’s care at the age of 17 and placed in supported housing and on the date about I got a phone call from Porterbrook GIC on my 18th birthday no less, inviting me to my first appointment in November.

22nd June 2012

I legally changed my name and title by deed poll to Miss Lily Nichole Robinson.

22nd October 2012

I’d now been at Porterbrook for almost 2 years, had lots of appointments, most of which repeated the same mundane questions and it had started to feel like nothing was ever going to change. I had become increasingly depressed and suicidal and I had decided that if nothing had changed by my 20th birthday I was going to take my own life. I did not want to enter my 20s still living my life as a man. I didn’t want to lose another year of my life.

I remember this date exactly, not because I marked it in my calendar but because Taylor Swift’s album “Red” came out that morning. Despite everything, I was dancing along to 22 that morning while ironing some clothes, before I headed off to Porterbrook. I didn’t really feel like it mattered, I was going to kill myself 2 days later but I figured what is the harm in going through the motions one last time.

I sat there, trying not to let on how miserable I was, didn’t see the point in letting them in on how I was feeling. Nothing would change.

I remember being asked some really gross questions that day though. I got asked if I masturbated and I just declined answering. When challenged I was just like, “I maybe trans and I may hate that equipment but I’m a human being. I still have sexual urges. What do you think the answer is.”

The appointment though, shockingly ended with them telling me they were going to put me on hormones. I was gonna get my estrogen. It was enough to give me a reason to keep on living.

But just bare in mind how close I got to taking my own life there. 2 days away from my 20th birthday. Also it took almost 2 years for them to say they’d be placing me on hormones.

January/February 2013

In January, I had my bloods taken to get a baseline and I was told about options for storing gametes. I did decide to consider this but in the end it ended up being too costly for me at the time. So in February, on a day it was snowing I got the train and was adamant the snow was not stopping me getting to Porterbrook and I had an appointment with the head clinician, Dr Kevin Wylie.

He oddly listed all the testosterone blocker options to me with side effects and risks and all the estradiol options to me with side effects and risks. In the end I chose Cyproterone Acetate for my blocker and Estradiol Valerate pills for my hormones.

50mg per day of Cyproterone Acetate and 2mg per day of Estradiol Valerate. I was ecstatic and took them both the second I got on the bus 😊

May 2013

Slightly unrelated to the medical process but just 3 months in and my mental health had improved drastically. Since I was removed from my Mum’s care I had become a bit of a shut in. I didn’t have any friends, my anxiety was through the roof, I was insanely depressed and I just avoided everything and everyone, only leaving my house for work. Hormones changed that though, I just felt so much happier and I also remember that Spring just being like really vividly aware of the colours of all the flowers and plant life for like the first time in my life. I actually wanted to go out and social and make friends and there was a local LGBT youth group for 18-25 year olds that I decided to join and I started to have and social life again. And by September 2013 I started university and soon came getting drunk with the LGBT Liberation Group at the various socials. I was happy and finally starting to feel like myself.

2013 - 2016

Porterbrook became very gatekeepy in the final stage of my transition. They didn’t like how I dressed. Apparently girls wear dresses while I preferred jeans, t-shirts and hoodies. I didn’t like wearing make-up. I wasn’t the 1950s image of a girl that Porterbrook seemed to expect. I actually have a trans guy friend who around the same time had been told he couldn’t start on testosterone unless he cut his hair short, cos apparently men don’t have long hair.

It pissed me off to no end because I transitioned to be me, not to be a performance of how the world thinks a woman should be. I refused to give ground on how I dressed, etc but in the end I ended up telling a few white lies to get past the final level of gatekeeping. And I can’t remember most of this dates as they happened while uni was going on in the background. But eventually Porterbrook gave me the go ahead for surgery, about 6 months later I had my second opinion and then I was referred for surgery.

January 2016

I had my pre-surgery assessment at Nuffield Health Brighton and I was told if I wanted I could have my surgery as early as March 2016. Due to university though, this proved a bit too soon and the date was pushed to June 2016.

22nd June 2016

The day before the EU Referendum I had my gender reassignment surgery. I don’t actually remember feeling all that ecstatic after the surgery. There was lot of pain and I was on a lot of drugs. But a friend, Rosie, who I hadn’t seen since high school lived in the area and she was at my bedside when I woke up. I was in hospital a week and had 3 months of recovery ahead of me.

Post Surgery 2016

Having surgery had been great, things finally felt right. My entire body felt right for once but I had tunnel visioned my life towards surgery and put a lot of stuff on the back burner and had some major post-surgery depression so I sort counselling at my university to get through these issues and once that was sorted I felt a lot more stable in myself and like nothing was in my way.

October 2016

I put in my application for my Gender Recognition Certificate only for it to get rejected because they did not like the assessment from Porterbrook GIC and Dr Wylie who wrote the assessments was off on leave. Me and a nurse had to sit down and look through my medical record to find a medical report they might accept and we finally found one. However they wouldn’t say what was wrong with the original which made Porterbrook kinda stumped on what was wrong.

February 2017

I received my Gender Recognition Certificate and my new Birth Certificate.

March 2017

I was discharged from Porterbrook GIC.

For those who are under the impression gender reassignment is a fast process it isn’t, it took me 8 years and 6 months start to finish, from initially seeing my GP at 15 to finally being discharged from Porterbrook GIC at the age of 24. It is a long ass process with a shit tone of gatekeeping and honestly going through the process as it stands isn’t something I’d wish on my worst enemy. When I was discharged from Porterbrook GIC in 2017 my first thought was, “I’m free. I’m finally in control of my own life.” As up until that point, I felt I had no autonomy and that my life and happiness was in the hands of doctors. It was miserable.

But there it is.

[drferox]

👩‍⚕️👨‍⚕️🥼🐌 Slow human medicine

Anonymous said to @ask-drferox: 👩‍⚕️👨‍⚕️🥼🐌 Why is the human medical system so slow? I go to the doctor today, get checked out, and now I have an ultrasound next week, and a urology visit the day after! 🙄 If I were to go to a vet, I’d be done in 10 minutes!

Do be fair if you’re being sent off to a specialist, there’s probably a couple of days wait in veterinary medicine. Maybe a fortnight if it’s a vet neurologist you’re trying to see.

There’s a few reasons veterinary and human medicine move at different paces.

Firstly, we’re generalists, and we’re a service industry compared to human medicine.

In the clinic I work at we have, in a building no larger than a typical house, our own Xray machine, Ultrasound, surgical suite with soft tissue and orthopedic gear, basic blood machines, basic to moderately advances hospital set up and a decent pharmacy. That is one business.

If I want an ultrasound, and I’m in a real hurry, I will drag the machine into an empty room myself and just do it. Interpret it then and there. I will interpret most of my own Xrays on the spot, they don’t go to a radiologist unless something’s super weird. It’s the medical equivalent of doing your own stunts.

Your typical human GP doesn’t do that. They don’t have the equipment in their practices (one reason human medical clinics are so much more profitable than vet clinics, less equipment expense) so they send it to another location that just does imaging, or just does blood collection. Efficient for the GP, but a bit of a pain for the patient.

Vet clinics can’t afford to be inconvenient. If we’re a hassle to get to in opening hours, or it’s too hard to get treatment, people just wont do it. Most people can’t afford to take time off work to attend a vet clinic, which is why our opening hours are so long (for the before and after work crowd). People will take time off work to see a doctor for themselves more readily.

There is also way more red tape and way more litigation on the human medicine side, which has necessitated more butt-covering in general. There is significantly more middle management and staff in general in human medicine to navigate through, not to mention insurance.

I suspect physical distance also plays a role. In general practice, my ultrasound machine is 2 meters away from my consult room. The Xray machine is about 3 meters away, and so is the surgical suite. The blood machines are about 4 meters away and I can run them myself if I need to.

A human hospital is fricking huge. You get put in a wheelchair and taken for a leisurely stroll to reach an ultrasound machine, and then back again to get to wards. It simply takes more time to get a patient anywhere. It takes more time to get the physicians anywhere.

Sometimes I think human doctors must look at us in veterinary medicine and think we’re some sort of unregulated cowboy mob.

Need a blood test? Yeah, I’ll do a blood test. Right now. I may or may not even grab an assignment.

Xray? Terribly sorry, there will be a 3 to 5 minute wait. The machine just doesn’t go any faster.

Ultrasound, you stay where you are I’ll bring it to you.

Need surgery? Only two rooms down, straight into it.

Pedicure straight after life saving surgery? *Sigh* Sure, saves me doing it when they’re conscious

While it feels like everything in human medicine other than paramedics have to go through triplicate forms to do anything. (And paramedics do their forms afterwards.)

I would be strangled in human medicine. I want my results and I want them now, and I don’t intend to wait 20 minutes if I don’t have to.

There are some cases which I do need to refer, or it’s in the patient’s interest if that’s affordable, but the wait time is typically a few days, not a few weeks or months so I find even that wait chaffing.