Do you hold their lives from a string?

Recently my GP of the past 10 (11, even?) years moved interstate. 2020 was kind of a rough year for… basically everybody? And while I’ve certainly been stressed out that somebody who has been so integral to my healthcare over the past decade is no longer accessible to me, he basically singlehandedly restored my trust in the medical industry, for which I harbour significant gratitude. Wishing all the best for him and everything the future holds.

Which brings us to the point of today’s entry:
Finding a new GP, in the middle of a literal pandemic, as a transgender person, is certifiably
  u n h i n g e d .

Needs more blood, can't go out in sunlight.
That feel when you’re trans and also medically indistingiushable from a vampire.

Having located a new clinic, gone through the tenuous process of assessing whether or not they’re even willing to commit to somebody -this- high maintenance, and successfully having the relevant records transferred across, today was my first appointment with the practitioner who will, presumably, be taking me on long term.

Bearing in mind that it was several years before I was comfortable enough to even mention the gender dysphoria to my previous doctor; I straightup flashed my butt-crack to somebody within about 10 minutes of meeting them, like? “Gimme steroid, I wanna grow a beard and be banned from competitive sports!”
Which gets even more surreal when you take into account the fact that we’re all wearing facemasks on account of the actual viral pandemic and Melbourne being back in lockdown.

What I’m desperately trying to articulate is that there is one (1) person out there, in the world, who could feasibly recognise my ass more reliably than my face.

Fucking incredible.

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