Exploring my Passions

Alzheimer's Pride Shirt.

Recently, I received a message from a statewide Ohio LGBTQ publication concerning my passion to help any way I can with the Alzheimer's Association. As I write about often, I serve on the Greater Cincinnati Alzheimer's diversity council and look at it as a way I can pay back to the time when my Dad passed away from dementia. 

If I am chosen for an interview this coming Friday, I will be able to express my paranoia concerning what may happen to me if I contract the same disease my Dad did. Not only do I want to not lose all the work I put into living as my authentic feminine self, I certainly don't want to bring any extra pressure needlessly to my family care givers over my gender issues.  

Of course I hope the publication follows through on writing an article  about the impact of Alzheimer's on the aging transgender population which is largely invisible, I look at it as the least I can do.

On another outreach topic, I heard back from several readers on my post concerning doing LGBTQ or transgender support groups at the Dayton, Ohio Veterans Administration hospital. Most of which pointed out their lack of real feedback from the group. I agree but point out having a LGBTQ group is often having a too wide of a base. For example, the average lesbian or gay person does not have the same lifestyle as a transgender person may have. In my opinion, it is why the groups I was a part of never maintained any critical mass of participants. 

Even still, I decided to join this new group which starts in August to see what happens. And to see if there are any new participants I don't know. Plus, I may get updates on those transgender women who had just started gender affirming hormones when I had saw them last. It would be interesting to see the changes which occurred. Often in these groups I don't say much and hope I can just serve as an example of transgender survival in the world. 

As with anything else, I will follow up with all of these upcoming happenings and keep you posted.

Gender Stress

 

Image from Alekon Pictures
on UnSplash

Living a transgender life can often be nearly unbearable. I found it to be especially so when my male self was refusing to give up a losing cause and I was still trying to discover the wonders of living as a novice transgender woman.

In many ways, I don't blame my guy for holding on because of all the work he did to arrive at where he was in the white male hierarchy he grew up in. By jumping genders, I was risking it all. My job, my family and friends could conceivably all be gone. The pressure was on. In one way I admired the men around me who didn't have gender issues to deal with but on the other hand, I felt so alive and natural when I was expressing my transgender self. More and more, I so admired the women around me even more than the men. 

All of this envy led me to a major point in my life where I finally needed to decide my future gender. In many ways, it was my own fault because when I started coming out, I was more successful quicker than I ever thought possible. Very early on, I was just going out cross dressed to see if I could and then discovered it was going be easier than I thought to build a new life as a woman. To my surprise, strangers wanted to know me. Especially other women who wanted to know why I wanted to be in their world. At the time, I had just lost my wife and most of my close friends to death, so I was extremely lonely. Any attention I received was a surprise and welcome. 

The problem was I still had a male life to decide what I wanted to do with. Did I want to try to keep him part-time or go all the way and do away with all of my male existence. If I had just faced up to my truth, I would not have to have gone through all the gender stress I was to encounter. What happened was, I still hung on to trying to live as both binary genders nearly killed me. The stress I felt, I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy. I couldn't keep my mind on anything else than when or if I was ever going to take the next step on my transition journey. Which, at that time, I considered to being approved for and starting gender affirming hormones. 

As my life changed, my gender stress magically went away slowly but surely. At that point, I knew I had made the right decision by going ahead and giving up what was left of my male life. The pressure was off and I became a happier person. At the same time, I had developed my own group of women friends who accepted me and my life was similar to a continual girls night out. I'm sure the hormones helped but life became much more bearable. It all turned out to be great timing as it was near the time my health care group (Veterans Administration) started to accept transgender veterans for HRT care which included free mental health guidance which helped me to change most all of my legal gender markers. I was extra lucky when I was assigned to a LGBTQ friendly therapist who was happy to help with anything she could. Plus lend an understanding ear when needed. 

I am not sure I could ever explain the stress and tension gender dysphoria causes to the average person who refuses to even try to understand. The most important issue to stress is that being transgender is not and has never been a choice for anyone involved. 

As I said, I would not have wished my gender stress on my worst enemy but if I did, hopefully my enemy would have  become a better person in the process. 

Gender Countdown

 

Image from the Jessie Hart
Archives

My journey to living my dream as a transgender woman admittedly took a long time. 

Too long to many who blame me for waiting so long and tried to say I was somehow less transgender than they were. Which of course, I immediately dismissed. After all after I had spent nearly a half a century to achieve my goals, who were they to question me anyhow. Also, they dismissed me since I turned my back on any possible gender altering surgeries. My reasons included not wanting to undertake any serious surgeries at my age. I was in my early sixties when I decided to undergo HRT which I still call "Hormone Replacement Therapy.' Since I understand has been relabeled in some circles. It's interesting in that the topic this week of my Veteran's Administration group session this week included two full pages on just transgender related labels from over the years.

Then, there was always the matter of trying to properly present  my feminine gender in a brave new world. Along the way, a trans woman friend of mine told me I passed out of sheer willpower. Which I took to mean, I was going out in the world doing the best I could and I would learn as I went along. Similar to on the job training. As I continued my on the job gender training, I learned the hard way, the more I learned the more I needed to learn.

I was fortunate in that my entire life I made observing women a priority. By doing so, I had a head start when it came to surviving in a new world. Even though I had made major strides, I found I could not learn enough to overcome all of the obstacles I would face. The main one was to be worried about my own personal safety. Looking back, it was the main male privilege I lost when I transitioned. There were many more but none where I had my safety questioned several times by stray men. 

For some reason, destiny led me into the company of lesbians when I was included into a small circle of friends I socialized with. With them, I learned to be an observer more than an active participant until I began to gather my confidence. From there I learned also how women don't need a man for verification. It was during this period of my life my gender countdown really became faster. I began to make up for lost time. 

Perhaps the final and biggest push to my countdown came when my future wife Liz told me I should complete my MtF gender transition. She told me at the time she had never seen anything male about me at all. Finally the doors were opening for me to live my transgender dream. To celebrate, Liz was with me the night I took the first minimal HRT dosage. 

The only regret I have on my countdown, is I put myself through so much torment before I completed it. (To my specifications.) I could have saved myself another suicide attempt as well as other unpleasant possibilities My gender countdown would have come to an unpleasant end. .

Out...With Civilians

Image from Brett Kavanaugh on
UnSplash

 It's been awhile since I have journeyed out of the house without my wife Liz, unless I was going on simple errands to the gas station or to the pharmacy, I didn't go.

This morning I broke what I refer to as the "Covid" curse and I went to my first Alzheimer's group of Greater Cincinnati's breakfast presentation. I decided to go since I signed up to be part of the organization's diversity committee. The committee is meeting virtually for my first meeting later on this month. As I have mentioned in the past, my passion to try to help with the Alzheimer's effort comes because of my Dad passing from the disease years ago. 

Almost as important to me was the fact I was returning to the public again after so long hiding in the shadows. Before the forced isolation of Covid, I was more or less a public person. Recently I decided it was time to get back in the public's eye and regain my confidence. Since I am inherently a shy person, the idea of meeting a room full of strangers was intimidating again. Almost as scary of facing the Cincinnati morning rush hour traffic with my GPS which had decided to not work all the way on the way.

Regardless of all of that, I did make it to the venue. In time to grab a breakfast sandwich, a cup of coffee and finally a seat where I could comfortably see and hear the speakers. To that point, everyone was really nice and greeted me with a smile.  In other words, my fears of somehow being mistreated for being the only transgender woman there were completely unfounded. The only LGBTQA+ person I saw there was one of the caterers as well as several maybe lesbians in the crowd of attendees. 

Looking around at the majority of the other women who were there, I dressed to blend rather well. I wore a pair of my black leggings, white camisole with a knitted top that my wife Liz made me. I added my black flats, lite makeup, pulled back my hair and I was ready to go. I was cool and comfortable on a warm summer's morning and wasn't too cold in the air conditioned venue.

Now I hope to expand my horizons again and do more to support my passions. Coming up next is the first of a ten week support group with the Dayton Ohio Veterans' Administration. Over the weeks we will be asked our opinion of how the VA has been doing in it's support of LGBTQA+ veterans. I am looking forward into providing my input as well as do more in the future for the Alzheimer's committee.

I feel anything I can do will pay me forward in the karma department and hopefully the recent strides in Alzheimer's care will continue and I won't have to face the same fate as my Dad did. 

 

A Transgender Set Back?

Photo Courtesy 
Jessie Hart

Yesterday I needed to go the Cincinnati Veterans Hospital for a colonoscopy. If you are not familiar it is a procedure when they run a small camera up and through your colon looking for what they call polyps.  Polyps if left unattended can sometimes lead to colon cancer. If you have ever been through a colonoscopy, you know the prep work before is no fun as you have to essentially fast for two days while drinking copious amounts of a liquid laxative which tastes like salt water. 

Recently I have not had to undergo any challenges to my gender. Sadly all of my gains were going to be erased yesterday. First of all, the intake nurse who was taking care of me came out into the waiting room and screamed "Mr. Hart." I cringed and said Mr. Hart wasn't here but would I do. She never replied anything and back to an intake room we went. By this time, I thought to hell with her Mr. Hart, let's just get this procedure over with. I also thought I was done with her so I wouldn't have to go through being mis gendered again. Plus there was always the chance she said it before she ever saw me and they don't see many women in the VA. 

Then came the worst part of all, I had to take all of my clothes off and put on one of those infamous hospital gowns, opened up the back. Even though hormone replacement therapy has taken care of most of my body hair, it was impossible for me to shave my backside, the one they were going to see. Again, by this time I just wanted the procedure to be all over so Liz and I could go out and get something to eat. I am sure with my highly androgynous appearance (since I have had no surgeries) at the least I may have given the nursing staff something to talk about. 

There was only one nurse who asked what I wanted to be called. I mistakenly thought there was going to be a light at the end of the gender tunnel when I told her my legal first name. Everything went well in our conversation until out of the clear blue sky she called me "Sir". I just said I wasn't a sir and everything was over...for now. The head doctors assistant told me I had four polyps, two of which they had to remove so I will probably be asked to come back in for a repeat procedure in six months to a year. I know the VA is trying to make a serious effort in their treatment of transgender patients, so maybe by then I will see a difference. I try my best to keep into consideration the people I meet who mis-gender me aren't being mean. They are just being ignorant because they have never met a transgender woman. Since I know what I will be facing when I go back too soon for my liking, maybe I can turn a transgender set back into a positive by educating people. Perhaps the next transgender person won't have to go through what I did. 

No pun intended but in the end result. all I want is to be kept free of colon cancer.     

Knocked off Another Pedestal

Image from Deva Williamson
on Unsplash

 Recently I participated in a Veterans Administration survey. It primarily revolved my treatment at VA facilities as well as background on my life as a transgender woman. Included within the survey were heavy questions on had I attempted any surgical gender intervention, as well as treatment I had personally received as various VA facilities. As I have said many times, following a very slow and unsure start my treatment has evolved to a positive experience.  

Long ago, I decided at my age, I would decline any and all gender surgeries including facial feminization, breast augmentation all the way to genital realignment surgery. In other words, I decided the numerous and welcome changes I experienced through hormone replacement therapy would be sufficient. My thought pattern was and is my gender is a highly personal matter and was decided by what was between my ears and not my legs. It didn't hurt either the only surgery I had ever undergone was to have my tonsils removed. Who was I to attempt to question success. My rule of thumb was to not undergo any or all unneeded pain. Such as elective gender surgeries.

Overtime I built up a bias towards those who viewed me as less transgender than they were since I have not gone under the surgical knife. While I still think the "transer than thou" ideas of certain post GRS persons is completely unfounded, I understand why some of the younger trans individuals would desire the surgery more than others. An example would be at the age of seventy three, my life is at a point where I am secure where I am currently at as far as my life as a fulltime transgender woman. Again, I don't see surgery giving me any sort of improvement.

The more I thought about the surgical questions in the survey, I put myself in the place of a much younger transgender person. Throughout my younger years, lack of insurance support and financial considerations would very much stop any idea of gender surgical intervention. These days though, there are more and more ways to finance surgery. Even the VA was asking in their survey. Perhaps most importantly there are more and more surgeons who can do a quality GRS and not mutilate their patient. After all, no matter how you cut it (pun intended) genital realignment surgery is a major operation. Major or not, if I was a young transgender person looking ahead at life. If I was in their shoes, I would desire any benefit I could get to live my life as happily as I could. 

Luckily when I fell off my pedestal, I didn't hurt myself. Plus I realize also many older transgender adults go through GRS for any number of reasons. I'm sure many see the surgery as a natural progression in their gender lives. Sadly our trans community puts too many up on their own pedestals as they try to find a way to look down on others. It's a human condition.      

Voting on Hormones

 My wife Liz and I went out to vote yesterday when she got off of work. Without becoming too political, of course I voted mostly the Democratic ticket since the other party seems to be more involved in  erasing transgender people everywhere, not to mention attempting to control women's reproductive rights. That is all I am going to say politically.

Even more important to me is the fact I was able to exercise my rights as a citizen as a female on my state drivers license which you have to present in order to vote. It is very special to me because years ago voting with my new female drivers license was the first time I had the opportunity to use my new legal ID. All things considered, changing over most of my legal gender identifications was not too difficult even in Ohio. Back in those days though, Ohio hadn't yet changed the rules on changing your gender on your birth certificate and Social Security was still  into changing names only on their records. Not gender. It hasn't been very long since both of these procedures have changed. Social Security being the most recent. 

In addition to changing all my civilian legal documents, I had to change my gender on all my Veterans Administration records. With the unwavering help of my therapist I was able to change my gender with most all of my VA documents. So I have a Veterans identification card marked female as well as being female on my records. Ironically, the VA is updating all it's records and they are now asking how I wish to be referred to. So I updated my records to transgender lesbian, she and hers. Naturally I was surprised when I was asked about my preferences. 

Overall, changing your legal gender markers, is a big move. It goes way past just choosing a new name. For me choosing a new legal name represented another milestone in my journey to a feminine life. No longer could I change my name as quickly as I changed my wig. I can't tell you how many names I used before I got together with my daughter and decided on my new name I would carry with me until I died. I went back a couple generations and selected a name from my mother's side of the family and selected my own Mother's name as my middle name. It made more sense to me than the old male name I had naturally but even more so because I could honor my family and heritage with my new name. My new legal  name I feel would have been approved by my mother.

All of this usually comes to my mind everytime I am able to vote. Plus it is also a chance to get out into the community and exercise my right to be myself...my authentic self as a transgender woman. Plus if you don't vote, you don't have any reason to complain about the results of the election. For my efforts yesterday I was thanked by a male smiling poll worker, voted and received my sticker. And, since yesterday was also Liz's birthday, I took her out to dinner after we were finished at the polls.

I wonder as I grow older if voting will still have a special place in my heart as the first place I was legally recognized as my true feminine self. As I proudly showed my identification with gender marked as a "F". The way it was always supposed to be.  

 

Gender Embarrassment

 
Yesterday was a big day for several reasons which involved my first visit to my Veteran's Administration primary provider. A primary provider role in the VA is similar to a family doctors in the civilian world. The significance to me was once again I would have to break in another medical provider into what makes me who I am.

Who I am of course can become quite complex to the average person if they allow it to be. Yesterday I was really surprised when one of the first questions I was asked by the nurse checking me in was how I identified. I knew the VA was attempting to learn more about transgender patients so I answered "transgender lesbian" and then added she and her as my pronouns.  From there we settled into the real reasons I was there.

Jessie Hart in Civil War 
Cemetary

As I have attempted to explain before, not only are my gender issues a point of separation between me and the "normal" other patients the staff may see but also trying to explain why my care is separated between two VA hospital centers. Add in the fact I am bi-polar and questions can become a little personal. Yesterday I needed two issues resolved above all others. One of which was getting my bloodwork done here in Cincinnati which saves me a trip to Dayton, Ohio to get it done. Fortunately after I learned each center has different systems, it would take some work and patience to accomplish the relatively simple task of blood letting. Then the major problem became was what was this estrogen and testosterone test for anyway. To make matters worse, to get it done, they had to ship it out to somewhere else. I lucked out and was assigned to a tech who stuck with the process, made a few calls and finally ended up drawing eight vials of blood. It seemed everyone wanted a sample of my blood.

Now, where the embarrassment came. Finally when I was able to see my provider for the first time, she and the nurse did a fairly decent  job of using my name in place of pronouns. Then in rapid order they screwed up twice and called me the hated "he" word. They apologized completely. So much so I was embarrassed for them. Plus I didn't want to be too much of a pain because I knew I still had two shots coming. One flu and one pneumonia plus I had another big favor to ask. I held my sharp tonged response back and mumbled something similar to it's all right. Which of course, it wasn't. 

The other favor I asked was admitting I was old and I needed a handicapped sticker to place in the windshield of our car when parking spaces are sparse and far away from where we are going. Of course all the worrying I did was for nothing as in five minutes later I had a legal document from the VA to take to the motor vehicle office to apply for a window placard. 

What seemed like hours in the clinic was finally over in probably a half hour and oh yay, I was tagged to for needing another colonoscopy. I was let free to stop at our favorite fast food chicken place NOT called "Fil A" and picked up lunch.

Now it is on to finishing up our wedding prep and picking up a new member of our feline family to replace the two who passed on last year. Hopefully, all the blood work will come back fine and my providers won't have to live through their self imposed gender embarrassment again.  

Spilled Estrogen and Health Care

 It's time to go the vampires and have my blood labs checked. Since I actually go to two Veteran's Administration hospitals for care, it seems to always be confusing to new people I meet in the system. Add in the fact I am transgender and confusion often dominates the conversation. My latest example came yesterday when I was trying to set up having my blood checked at the nearest VA clinic to me rather than make the drive (one hour/one way) up to Dayton to get the work done. 

Initially I was having a difficult time getting the point across what I wanted. The nurse kept going back to my last results which I already knew. As she was going through the results she paused, and I knew what was coming. She said in a questioning voice what was this estradiol test for. Even though I felt it was really none of her business, I told her the truth. I was transgender. After all of this, I did get an appointment with my doctor to get the bloodwork done locally. The VA has an on-line site where the results are available for the veteran and their health care providers. My other providers finally learned they could access my records also which saved me a trip.

I am aware VA healthcare is not equal for all transgender veterans as is reflected in this archived post I wrote last year:

" Along the way here in Cyrsti's Condo, I enjoy reading other experiences from other transgender women who share a similar age to me. Five (at least) are transgender veterans and it seems I am learning of more trans vets daily. By reading their comments, what the typical person doesn't realize I think is the wide range of care you can receive in various Veterans Administration Hospitals. 

Photo by Ehimetalor Akhere Unuabonao
on Unsplash

Also, trans persons in my age range (65-70 plus) go through being an educational experiment. Meaning, we are educating our medical providers about the needs of transgender patients. As it has turned out, I have been on both sides of becoming a self care provider.  I do think over the years, more and more medical professionals are being educated to us. When I look back at my experiences mostly at the Dayton, Ohio VA center, they have many residents from nearby universities following around my regular doctors. I always take it as a good sign when a young college aged professional has the opportunity to see a transgender woman such as me be cared for. 

Unfortunately I know all haven't been able to  have the same beneficial experiences. I know I am mostly speaking to the choir here but imagine if you have to fight through personal and or  religious discrimination to even receive quality transgender care such as hormone replacement therapy. Which studies have proven to be mentally helpful to the mental health of so many gender dysphoric individuals. Alternatives such as Equitas Health are proving to be life saving medical providers for the LGBTQ community if you are lucky enough to live near one of their offices in the Midwestern United States.

Now, let's go back to another major service the VA provides for transgender veterans...mental health care. Again, from the comments I receive, the care a vet receives varies widely from VA center to center. As I have previously written my original therapist at the VA has been with me all the way and has been completely sympathetic and proactive to my needs. Of course HRT meds come to mind but there was so much more such as providing paperwork to help with name and gender changes within and out of the system. 

Plus, even though I had to educate my initial endocrinologists, my current "Endo" is also a wonderful provider who monitors and takes care of my needs. 

Through all of this, I hoped I would be the rule, not the exception. But from many of the comments I receive I am afraid I am not. it is too late to cry over spilled estrogen when you are 72. Sure, such as many of you I wish I had worked my way out of cross dressing and into a transgender life much earlier than I did. It seemed my gender crystal ball was a bit cloudy and the life I so meticulously built and protected as a man was too good to give up. 

I hope your journey across the gender frontier has brought you to where you want to be. No matter the years it took you to get there and the experiences you had with your health care."

The Basics

Yesterday, I wrote a post concerning using the basics of using the women's room. Of course, as you transition genders from male to female or female to male, there are giant gender stereotypes you have to conquer. 

Examples are many, such as cis women have this sacred place to go (literally) when they use the restroom. Another would be women don't follow sports or drink beer as much as their male counterparts. Along the way I was able to put those stereotypes behind me as my cis when friends were every ounce the fan I was and could drink me under the table. 

If you look around at other women, they are as diverse as the rainbow some of them reject. The only major impact in society I see from women as a whole is they have moved away from dressing up as much as they used to. A disappointment to many cross dressers and or novice transgender women as they journey from their closets only to find in order to blend into the feminine population as a whole they had to change the idea of what they were wearing. Unless they were prepared to face added scrutiny. 

Other novice transgender women of a later age had to face the fact they were not a teenaged girl when they transitioned and no matter what couldn't dress like one. I fell into that trap and turned many A-Ha moments into Connie's Ha-Ha moments when I was laughed out of places I should have been accepted in. When the laughing stopped, I went back to my transgender drawing board, hitched up my big girl panties and went back in. Deep down I knew to be successful in my goal of presenting as a woman was going to take more work than I thought. 

I wonder now what I was thinking as I began to build a brand new person as my authentic feminine self. After all, she had waited years to get out of the dark and live. I don't think I grasped in the moment what I was asking. Perhaps I was too immersed in shedding the remnants of my old male life. Whatever the case, I don't believe I was totally ready for what happened to me.  One example is how suddenly I was able to find women who accepted me. I looked for and received more attention as a transgender woman than I ever did as a man. Maybe because the women sensed I had given up on the perceived masculine toxicity I had to live with.

The biggest challenge was building a good person others could relate to and I could interact with, learn from and develop as the woman I always knew I had been. At that point, the basics revolved around how I communicated with the new world I was facing. I couldn't believe the gender euphoria I felt when I began to communicate one on one with other women. 

As it turned out, the period of gender adjustment was not so different to the adjustments I had to make when I went through Army infantry basic training so many years before. Both transitions were intense and required an incredible amount of work to accomplish. Of course the gender basic was much more pleasurable than the Army one and I gained an incredible amount of respect for my new self. 

The "Softer" Hormone

Photo Courtesy 
Jessie Hart

 Years ago I started down my path of hormone replacement therapy or also known as HRT. As I began the process I had many expectations of what would happen when the feminine hormones began to be introduced into my body. Before any of the HRT could begin, I needed to find a doctor to pronounce me healthy enough to do it. Fortunately I was and I found a doctor who would start me on a minimum dosage to again find out if my body could tolerate the changes. My warning to everyone is to NOT begin HRT without consulting a doctor. Just recently I had an acquaintance who almost died from hormone induced blood clots. To make a long story short she had to stop the hormones to save her life. 

As I mentioned, none of that happened with me and within a small time I was allowed to increase my dosage. At the same time, definite changes were beginning to emerge. I was starting to "grow" breasts, my skin was softening and my hair was beginning to really grow. I think many of the increased changes may have occurred because I was older (60), my testosterone was in decline anyhow and perhaps I may have had a natural estrogen higher level to work from. I have no way of knowing that now.

All I know now is very quickly I was beginning to appear very androgynous. During that period of my life I was more into appearance than anything else. It was during the period of time I was transitioning from being a cross dresser to being a full fledged transgender woman. Also about this time was when I also became aware of the Veterans Administration's acceptance of transgender care for veterans up to and including HRT. So, being a veteran, I transferred all my gender treatment to the VA. When I did I was able to have my hormonal dosage increased so the changes did also. 

This time the changes began to take on a softer internal route. An example would be the night I was brought to tears when I was sitting on my porch watching an oncoming storm roll in. I don't know why I cried but I did. As it turned out, crying was just the tip of the iceberg. Very quickly I was becoming noticeably internally softer. My internal body temperature changed as I was colder than I had ever been in my life. Plus my sense of smell became more intense. 

You may think I found out the hormonal way that estrogen in reality did mellow me out and was much more than a method to femininize my body. Ironically too, the changes keep coming after all these years (7) on HRT. This morning I was marveling how feminine my thighs are becoming and how much better they will look this fall in my leggings. 

As I wrap this post up, I can only say hormone replacement therapy is a wonderful method to femininize yourself inside and out. But I know too, not all either think they need it or can't tolerate it medically. 

Whatever the case be careful.      

Looking Back

 This comment comes from Connie based on my recent "Memorial Day" post:

"Thank you for your service, and thank God you survived it.

At the time I entered college (1969), student deferments were in effect. So was my gender dysphoria deferred, through pure will power and suppression. When the government decided to drop the student deferments and institute a lottery, I became fearful of being drafted with a lottery number of 122. At

Photo Courtesy Connie
Malone

first, I thought I could go over to the ROTC building, register, and then complete my education. Talking with some vets in my dorm, though, I learned that doing so would make me a " 2nd lieutenant, and being one would put me in a higher casualty position than if I were just inducted as a private. OK, I thought to myself, maybe this would be a good time to come out (suppression doesn't work 24/7, but it adds an extra door or two to the closet your in). I figured that it would be the ace up my sleeve, anyway.

My number did come up, right at the end, but I was never "asked" to report for anything (and so was able to keep my suppression active). I don't know why I wasn't called, and I don't much care. For many years afterward, though, I wondered how many of those who had had my same lottery number never made it back home alive. It was a source of guilt for me, until I had a talk with my brother-in-law, who had been drafted, and then served in the infantry earlier in the war. He helped to relieve my guilt by letting me know how lucky I was to have missed out on the whole thing. Although relieved and happy to have made it back alive, he was haunted by things he had seen and had been forced to do. He passed away from cancer a few years ago, a cancer his doctor was sure had been caused by his earlier exposure to Agent Orange.

As I put the flag up for Memorial Day, I do so with a reverence and respect for all who have served and have died in protecting the rest of us. Even those who make it back alive surely have had something die within them, as a result of their experiences. My brother-in-law loved to barbeque, so I will add a little prayer for him when I fire up the grill later today."

Thanks for the comment. I was one of the few I knew who were able to make a potentially dangerous situation livable, I know regular reader Georgette was another. The fact remains though most were not so lucky. 

"Endo" Day

 Every six months or so I need to "face the music" and visit my endocrinologist or "Endo" doc. Quite possibly it is the most important doctors appointment I have.? Because she  controls my hormone replacement therapy medications. 

From the Jessie
Hart Collection 

In my case, that means I have to make a trip to the vampires to have my blood checked at the Veterans Administration blood laboratory.  From that point forward it is up to her to judge my overall health and give me her blessing to continue on my meds. 

Needless to say, my hormone meds are near and dear to me because the meds have allowed me to become the transgender woman I am today. No pressure...right? I write quite a lot about the changes HRT have contributed to my growth as a transgender woman. Mainly when it came to the  feminization  of my exterior to match my inner self. 

Adding to the pressure of this visit is I needed to do a new test I had been putting off for nearly a year and/or two appointments. This time I had to provide a twenty four hour urine sample. So , not only do I not know what the test is for, I don't know how it will enter in to my HRT, The VA has an on line site where you can view test results I just don't know how to translate the results. I guess that much is her job. 

Many times I have the ability to conjure up irrational fears. Hopefully this is just another one of those. 

 

Transgender Tetherball

 Do you know what the game "Tetherball" is? Basically it is a ball secured by a rope to a pole. When the ball is hit by a hand it comes back round to you. Of course it can be played by more than one person.

When I heard the game discussed briefly this morning on a PBS television show I was watching, I thought of what it meant in relation to a transgender woman or trans man.  

I was intrigued and thought of gender replacing the ball in our game of life. For awhile we can be fortunate and the gender ball smoothly comes right back to us. During it's circle there was no one to stop it by saying the wrong thing and ruining your day. The problem is it can be so much more than just an outsider who can destroy the smooth rotation of the gender tetherball as it swings back to us.

Take for example, the gender dysphoria many of us suffer from. Through no fault of anyone other than ourselves, we can have our lives turned upside down when we have to live through the gender hell of not having our feminine souls sync with who the world sees us on a daily basis. Recently my gender game has been relatively smooth because I think my inner gender has been syncing up with who the world has been seeing. However, those feelings can be destroyed in an instant by ill advised side look in a mirror. It's similar to the gender ball hitting me in the face. 

Seemingly the only way I can correct the problem is by going out in the world and proving to myself I can present myself as a feminine person. Once it happens (or if it does) I can get back in the game until it happens again. My gender dysphoria has proven to me time and time again it will. 

An example happened to me this morning when I went to visit the vampires at the Veterans Administration clinic to have my blood labs taken. During the brief time I was there, I happened to look up in the waiting room and see a man waving at me. Also the tech who drew my blood took the extra time to "mansplain" to me all the tests he was doing. A sure sign they were booth reading feminine when they interacted with me.

All it really matters is the realization I am tethered to being transgender the rest of my life. Of course it is not a blinding sense of reality to figure out something I should have known years ago. 

Oh well, living in the past is just another case of getting hit in the face by the ball. One thing for certain is "Transgender Tetherball" is not a fun game.

The Point of No Return

 Yesterday was one of the days I was scheduled to change my synthetic Estrogen patches. Every now and then I pause to remember all the changes I have gone through over the years. 

I usually hesitate to write about the HRT process because hormone replacement therapy is such a unique topic. In other words, it can vary so much between individuals. Age, dosage and current physical condition all factor in. HRT is certainly not for everyone and should not be undertaken without the help of a medical professional. As I set my usual disclaimer aside, it's time to describe my own personal hormonal gender journey for those of you who may be considering it. 

At the very beginning, I can only describe myself as a very serious cross dresser. I normally tried to sooth my extreme gender dysphoria by dressing as a woman two or even three times a week. Through all of it deep down I knew living with feet in both of the binary genders was never going to be a long term solution to my gender questions .I also knew adding synthetic estrogen to my body was going to be my next logical step towards rebuilding my life as a novice transgender woman.

Before I did I had to be checked out by a family doctor who I heard of through the grapevine. He was   a LGBT friendly physician in the Dayton, Ohio area. By this time, my wife had passed away and I was free to take what gender action I wanted to transition or not. Of course you know that I did and the appointment was made. 

Photo Courtesy: During my CD days
Jessie Hart

The doctor's visit itself was very straight forward and simple. He asked me if I knew my breasts would grow along with my hair and my sex drive would for the most part go away. When I accepted all those possibilities, he wrote me the magical prescription I had long dreamed of. The meds were pills with synthetic estrogen along with a med which would decrease my testosterone. By mutual agreement, we decided to begin my HRT on a very minimum dosage to determine how my body would react. Happily, I had no adverse reactions and was given a slightly higher dosage. All in all, I was still impatient for all the feminizing changes I was expecting. I could feel my breasts starting to change and I never had a problem growing hair, so I wanted more.

More would come. This time compliments of the Veteran's Administration. At this time, I was experiencing severe financial problems and had lost my regular health insurance. I desperately needed the health care the VA offered. For the most part, free to me for my service in the military. To continue my hormone replacement therapy with the VA, I had to go back through the process of seeing a doctor, including a therapist. I was fortunate in that the therapist who was assigned to me had a basis of knowledge of transgender and/or gender dysphoric individuals. She promptly wrote me a letter of acceptance and it was up to me to do the rest. 

I did have a bump in the road when the VA hospital I was a patient of did not have an endocrinologist to monitor my meds. It took awhile but I finally received approval to see an Endo doc outside of the Va which they would pay for. Once I got used to seeing him, I was able to move back into the VA system for monitoring until I was diagnosed with a liver problem and again was taken off my hormones. 

The liver problem was conquered and I was allowed to resume my HRT. The good news was I was able to increase my dosages and change to patches to save extra wear and tear on my liver. 

The increased dosage began the changes I had longed hope for. My face began to soften along with my skin. Body hair started to thin (except for my beard) and my breasts really started to grow. All of those changes couldn't compare with my inner changes. I will never forget my first hot flash when I was sitting in a sports bar sipping on a beer. I was sure I was going to internally combust! Then, there were the tears. During my male life, I rarely, if at all ever cried. Now I can cry over bad and good things. What a change.

As I look back, I still consider hormone replacement therapy was the second of several major gender transitions I went through.  Just when I thought there were only two transitions, I found myself going through another. 

More on that later in another post.

Three Month Check Up

 Yesterday was my twice a month therapist virtual visit and today was my virtual check up with the VA nurse practitioner who monitors my moods and medications. Both of which of course are very important to me. As you regulars probably know, I am a Vietnam era transgender veteran receiving Veterans Administration health care. 

Way back in the day the whole process was even more important to me. The problem I thought I was going to have was persuading a psychologist my gender dysphoria was a completely different issue than the bi-polar problems I was having. One did not cause the other with me. To be fair, I have heard from other transgender acquaintances who have said once they started to transition and began hormone replacement therapy, they were able to stop taking their anti depressants all together. Good for them! But my anxiety with life's other issues as well as my mood swings were continuing. 

I was fortunate in a couple ways as I look back on my mental health care. First of all, my therapist (or psychologist)  had no problem at all separating my gender issues with my over all mental health. She followed through with setting me up with another person to monitor my meds. 

The second thing which happened was I am still with the same two people almost a decade later, which has been exceedingly rare for me when it comes to my other providers in the Veteran's Administration health care system. At least around here. I know also, care standards vary completely between different VA hospitals and/or clinics.

Being with at least two of the same providers for all those years has helped me in that I have not had to educate a new person into what a transgender patient was all about. In fact, as I remember back to the days when I was first being treated, times have really changed for the better for me. At the beginning, I was fairly certain I was the first transgender patient most of the providers had ever seen.

With the help of the two persons I have mentioned, I have been able to stabilize my moods which has helped my anxiety and moods. By helping my moods, I have been able to do away with the great majority of my thoughts of self harm.

My next round of check ups comes in April when I visit my endocrinologist. She of course prescribes the all important Estradiol and Spiro prescriptions which have gone so far into making me the outwardly feminine person which allows me to sync up with my inner female. That visit too includes stopping at the vampires for blood tests/labs. 

When I was younger, there was no way I could have predicted any of this would happen. In fact I was in many ways forced into the VA health care system when I lost nearly everything I owned. Now it seems
it was the best move I could make. 

Not the Man I used to Be

 Recently we had to endure a portion of the massive winter storm which blanketed the middle and eastern part of the country. We received over six inches of ice, sleet and snow. Following all of that temperatures plummeted courtesy of an Artic blast. Due to lack of planning we weren't part of the hoard hitting all the grocery stores, so we were quickly running out of something to eat. 

"Attitude" Photo
Courtesy JJ Hart

Not so long ago (it seemed) I would have had no problem scraping and cleaning the car. It seems forgetting all the years of aging combined with estrogen and testosterone reduction  has taken it's toll. Seemingly when I finished the task of cleaning the car, I was feeling good about the whole process. Even to the point of telling Liz who was against me doing it. She is fond of telling me my mind has not accepted the fact I am physically not the man I used to be. 

She was completely right in this case. After throwing caution to the wind and cleaning the car, I found and/or felt the pain in my back. In other words, I spent yesterday in pain and am not much better today. 

The whole deal proves once again how truly stubborn I really am. During the majority of my life, my perseverance has served me well. Of course the major example is my cross dressing past, building to me becoming a novice transgender woman. I have written many times of the error more than trial which went into my ever so slow progression into fulfilling my dream of being  able to live full time as a transgender woman. 

Then there was my time in the military. Since I was being drafted into the service, I chose the three year enlistment plan which helped me to be able to work in a job field of my choosing. No body told me how difficult the process would be and I went for it anyhow. I became one of just sixty persons in the entire Army doing my job as a radio broadcaster/DJ. That in turn led me to meeting and later marrying the mother of my only child. A very accepting daughter who I cherish more and more as time goes by. The military even provided me my first chance to "come out" to friends about being a transvestite. Through it all, no one tried to tell me any of what I accomplished was impossible. Not that I would have listened anyhow.

Coming full circle and having a hard time even moving with no pain, I at least wish I had listened to Liz and left the car alone. 

My back is telling me I am not the man I used to be.  Or then again, the man I never wanted to be anyhow. I just need to get past the remaining vestiges of what a much younger man is telling me to be. It's difficult because I dislike feeling worthless.  Whose to say also I have learned my lesson the next time a big snowfall hits. I feel like now I have.

Connect the Dots

 Yesterday as the Cincinnati Bengals won their game and will head next to the Super Bowl, I will admit I did shed a tear or two of joy. Of course I was overjoyed at the hard fought win but even more I was overcome at the memories of the thirty three years which have gone by since the last trip to a Super Bowl by a Bengals team  As you can imagine, I have suffered more than my share of heartbreak when the Bengals found ways to lose I couldn't even think of and were even referred to as the "Bungles."

Photo JJ Hart

Being as perceptive as she is, my partner Liz asked me if my tears were because of the memories I had watching all the games I did as a guy. It was at that point I started to connect the dots and told her yes. 

In many ways, looking back at all the years of hiding my transgender feminine being from the world, I wonder how I made it. All those years of going to The Ohio State University football games, drinking enormous amounts of beer while I tried to out macho the other guy by smoking big cigars. One example comes to mind when I had to relieve myself of a large amount of the beer I had just drank by going to what can only be called as a high tech men only portable toilet. The unit only had a trough like device for about five guys to go at once. Or as many as could squeeze in. 

My dilemma quickly became my lack of enough hands. I had a plastic beer cup, a lit cigar and no hands to unzip and go. To solve the problem I pushed my way in holding my beer in my teeth along with my cigar and went ahead and peed. Either that moment was the most macho thing I did or at the least was the most imaginative thing I ever came up with. By now my mind was racing and I returned to the present.

As I cried though, all I could think of were all the wasted years I had doing my best to live a gender lie. How much worse could everything been if I had just followed my instincts and set out to live as my feminine natural self. 

Photo by Priscilla Du Preez on Unsplash

On the other hand, if you believe in the cup being half empty or full, I was able to live a remarkable life as a guy. and have such wonderful things as my beloved daughter to show for it. Even my time in the military proved to be beneficial as I was able to see and live on three continents in three years followed up by living in several diverse areas of this country when I was honorably discharged. The cup was half empty when I chased after myself but full when I was able to add all the experiences I did.

When you are able to live as long as I have, you begin to realize connecting the dots only proves life is but a circle. Learning from the circle has been the difficult lesson for me.  

Spilled Estrogen and Health Care

 Along the way here in Cyrsti's Condo, I enjoy reading other experiences from other transgender women who share a similar age to me. Five (at least) are transgender veterans and it seems I am learning of more trans vets daily. By reading their comments, what the typical person doesn't realize I think is the wide range of care you can receive in various Veterans Administration Hospitals. 

Photo by Ehimetalor Akhere Unuabonao
on Unsplash

Also, trans persons in my age range (65-70 plus) go through being an educational experiment. Meaning, we are educating our medical providers about the needs of transgender patients. As it has turned out, I have been on both sides of becoming a self care provider.  I do think over the years, more and more medical professionals are being educated to us. When I look back at my experiences mostly at the Dayton, Ohio VA center, they have many residents from nearby universities following around my regular doctors. I always take it as a good sign when a young college aged professional has the opportunity to see a transgender woman such as me be cared for. 

Unfortunately I know all haven't been able to  have the same beneficial experiences. I know I am mostly speaking to the choir here but imagine if you have to fight through personal and or  religious discrimination to even receive quality transgender care such as hormone replacement therapy. Which studies have proven to be mentally helpful to the mental health of so many gender dysphoric individuals. Alternatives such as Equitas Health are proving to be life saving medical providers for the LGBTQ community if you are lucky enough to live near one of their offices in the Midwestern United States.

Now, let's go back to another major service the VA provides for transgender veterans...mental health care. Again, from the comments I receive, the care a vet receives varies widely from VA center to center. As I have previously written my original therapist at the VA has been with me all the way and has been completely sympathetic and proactive to my needs. Of course HRT meds come to mind but there was so much more such as providing paperwork to help with name and gender changes within and out of the system. 

Plus, even though I had to educate my initial endocrinologists, my current "Endo" is also a wonderful provider who monitors and takes care of my needs. 

Through all of this, I hoped I would be the rule, not the exception. But from many of the comments I receive I am afraid I am not. it is too late to cry over spilled estrogen when you are 72. Sure, such as many of you I wish I had worked my way out of cross dressing and into a transgender life much earlier than I did. It seemed my gender crystal ball was a bit cloudy and the life I so meticulously built and protected as a man was too good to give up. 

I hope your journey across the gender frontier has brought you to where you want to be. No matter the years it took you to get there and the experiences you had with your health care.

Jury Duty and the "Big O"

 Overall I lead a very boring life. On occasion it seems I just sit around writing waiting for something remotely different to happen. This week  I hit the jackpot for all the right and wrong reasons. Plus, I am 72 and retired.  Now the wrong reason. 

Two days ago, my partner Liz's son tested positive for the Omicron Covid 19 virus. Even though he had been vaccinated twice. Because of his age (24) and vaccination history, we hope his recovery is swift and does not spread to Liz and I. Plus, both of us have been vaccinated twice plus have been boostered. Either way I am now in quarantine for a least five days.

Then out of nowhere came a jury duty summons. In my entire life I believe I have only been summoned twice and never was required to serve. The only problem I have with doing it now is how bad my lower back is now. Sitting in any chair for much more than a hour is torture. I have been considering applying for an Ohio handicapped permit but my pride/ego has stopped me from going ahead with the process. Clouding the problem now is I am being assigned a new primary provider (family doctor) at the Veterans Administration. So now I am required to complete the process with somebody new. 

Also I was lucky. I went on the court's website this morning and learned the county was cancelling most all of the lower level court cases due to the pandemic and my participation wasn't required, for now. For obvious reasons I need to point out my hesitation to serve was only due to physical reasons and had nothing to do with me being transgender. In fact, as regular reader Paula once wrote in a comment, being transgender is only a part of who we are. We are so much more and so complex.

Putting all the negatives aside, this is a huge week around the Cincinnati,Ohio area and beyond as the Cincinnati Bengals football team attempts to win its first NFL playoff game in thirty one years. I am proud to say, my friend Connie out in Seattle will be rooting for the Bengals. Back in my dim past when Cincinnati was actually in the Super Bowl I actually broke a small bone in my foot celebrating a touchdown return during the game. It was difficult explaining why I was on crutches the next day to my bosses. 

So, as you can tell, my week finally shaped up to at the least be a bit different.