So that happened.

CW: medical/trans drama

Today I went for another surgical follow-up, because the last one went so well.

These things happened:

  • I got my statutory declaration saying I have had gender reassignment surgery. This means I can change my gender on my birth certificate without having to go through counselling again.
  • The doctor apologised for the trauma and that it happened and he was part of it.
  • The doctor thanked me for being a trailblazer and told me that they’re working to do better for other people.
  • The doctor thanked me for writing in to complain. I know! I am not making this up!
  • I don’t have to do HRT because I’m informed enough to make my own choices thank you, also, stroke risk. “But that’s for contraceptives, not the gentler ones for menopause…” *glare* … “We can manage osteoporosis risk in other ways.”

I had cake for tea.


make. it. stop.

CW: medical/trans drama, suicidal ideation, dysphoria, panic attacks


Thank you for your nudges, likes and messages since my last update.


I had hoped to come back with great news but alas, I cannot.


The Zoladex, after ramping to a critical mass of hormones, ended up working. The migraines faded, as did the pain, and the gynaecologist admitted to having delayed my hysterectomy and I was given a date. This came with a warning -that on the day I would have to fight for it. Instead, I needed to fight -not- to have it, and I failed dramatically. And, now, kinda dying? Maybe.

Continue reading make. it. stop.

Let The Dam Walls Break

CN: medical discrimination, transition, gender-coded medicine, gender discrimination, gender dysphoria, medical drama


I have spent the last few months in a haze of hurt and rage and mostly hurtful fear.


This is not because I asked, again, for my thyroid to be checked (it’s meant to be checked every six weeks, but because I had one test show normal instead of low, there must not be a problem!) and was turned down. This is not because I am repeatedly called by the wrong name and afraid that if I insist on my pronouns and correct, chosen name, I will lose my meds and therefore my lifeline. This isn’t even because every time I go to the doctor now the receptionist starts writing to me and then throws a huffy fit when I type ‘I can hear you’ and refuse to respond unless I am spoken to by someone who faces me when they speak.


This is because, in July, the gynaecologist who promised me that I would get my transition surgery this year, flat out asked me if I was trans, and then told me that the pain was psychological so he couldn’t do the surgery. He then gave me tissues and asked if I was crying, because I was in so much pain from sitting in his office on a chair with no padding and a high back and in the middle of a hot flush. Apparently, ‘but menopause is really bad!!! some people can’t get out bed you know!!!’ is a total justification for refusing what I was promised.

Continue reading Let The Dam Walls Break

Let Me Tell You About A Thing

CN: sexism, rape, judicial process


This is what goes through my mind, what I viscerally experience, every time the ‘but women lie/what about the innocent men/false accusations!!’ thing comes up. Every time. On Facebook, in the news, in random comments on non-news-sites.

Continue reading Let Me Tell You About A Thing


cn: codeine drama, discrimination, doctor drama

Real brief, because bawling fit:

  • Facebook reader asked me whether the gynaecologist in my last post was okay with the codeine or whether the reaction was because I was taking codeine.
    I interpreted the whole thing as ‘wow the pain is real’ because the ‘you just need a better x!’ stopped and the ‘your pain needs to be controlled I’mma make sure you get through to your next appointment’ started, and while, yes, there was a bit of “that’s because codeine makes the pain worse!” and “we’re giving you an addiction!”, (both real quotes, not my best recollection or paraphrasing), the focus was very clearly on keeping the pain under control and not changing anything until something definitely better was in place.
  • I managed to ask at the chemist if they could recommend a doctor. The pharmacist and the counter person went out the back and discussed it – I overheard them saying “why didn’t her doctor just refer her?” (yes, because they totally refuse to use my pronouns as well) and when they came back, it was “have you been referred to a pain clinic? they’re cracking down, you know, and i can’t influence anyone and we’ve seen a decrease in scripts as a result, did the doctor say anything about where you could go?” I told them he told me to see a female doctor because they saw fewer patients and while the pharmacist realised it was sexist and wtf-y, the counter person then only recommended female doctors, and all too far away for me to get to without the pain under control. It takes me ten minutes to get the 800m to the GP now – the one they ended up deciding on was 6km away, and in traffic is more like half an hour. The only takeaway was that I could still see the same person there every time, and one I tried before has a nice doctor, but they recommended not going back there as trying again wouldn’t look good for me. Fine, w/e.
  • I received two letters when I checked my mail – the GP sent me a letter to say when my test is, but nothing else. It was sent before the gynaecologist appointment, so I don’t know whether they talked or if I should still expect a script in the mail or what. Now, here’s a thing – without even bothering to check with me, the GP asked one of the reception people to call the hospital for me to find out when, you know, because I can’t talk so clearly there’s no way I can, you know, communicate with the hospital by myself. Except I will, now, but an entire week later. And if I had not gone to the GP last week to try to get him to put me on a chronic pain management plan (“what you mean mobility allowance? Centrelink don’t do that and you’re not eligible for NDIS and you’d have to have a label for the rest of your life” ) I wouldn’t have even known at all.
  • Oh, and the pain specialist cancelled. Sorry, “is not consulting that day please ring to make a new appointment”. Remember how they wouldn’t talk to me because it was too hard?


Clearly, I was stupid to think that other-gynaecologist would at least come through with the script so I’d have time to do all this with less impending doom. I mean, yeah, I have more time to sort out the pain specialist. Maybe. But if I do -nothing else- I can attend both the test and the gynaecologist. I can’t do -nothing else- because I don’t have a script to make that nothing else restful enough.


This is what the Australian government’s all-or-nothing, zero-to-sixty influence against opiates has done. And yes, I’ve heard the “you don’t really need it you’re just panicking because you’re addicted and you’re being cut off” drama spiel before, so stop sending me addiction clinic spam, kthnx. I have been repeatedly told over the years that this is the best way to manage things, that anything else is too hard, that it’s better not to mess with it while it’s working, that managing the pain is most important.

so stressed i forgot to make a title

CN: moar codeine drama, discrimination, mentions of suicidal ideation, discussion of gendered medical issues


I have to admit that I have been procrastinating about finding a new doctor. Well, for the first week it was just not in my power. Last week I had to prioritise the gynaecologist. This week is my first chance to actually go and put myself in front of someone and say ‘halp’ and in all likelihood get knocked back.


The gynaecologist last week did not go well. It was forty minutes of questions where I wasn’t allowed to finish my answers (like seriously, I would type half of it, “i can’t read it”, I would fix it, then next question even though like I’d said half a sentence and was not done) before I even had a chance to pass over my letter that I’d written in advance…


… You know what, I was telling someone about this once, and they were like “you know, you should write a letter and take it to them!” and I was like “seriously, really? i already did that.” And you know? It still doesn’t work. …

Continue reading so stressed i forgot to make a title

The ‘I’m Not Being Heard’ Bingo

CN: doctor drama, mentions of ED and gender-based barriers

You know that feeling when a doctor is totally on board and seems to understand and has a plan and you just start feeling like you can be honest and then…

…. “You really just need to see a better psychologist!”

… “Are you sure you don’t just need to see a psychologist?”

… “But you can’t go back, we just have to be super sure!”

… “We have a really great physio here who can fix that.”

… “Did you know you can find exercises on the internet?”

… “Are you sure you don’t need treatment for an eating disorder?”

… “What is ED?”

…”I’m going to give you a script…” *forgets script*

… “But you might want babies!!”

… “Opiates are addictive!!!!”

… “But what if you meet someone?”


… yeah. I think I’m going to make a bingo or drinking game out of this.