Rebalancing my hormones one more time.

Last week I mentioned I was feeling the testosterone a lot again. So far that has only gotten worse. It really does feel like it did when I first started testosterone. I remember suddenly understanding why teen aged boys were complaining all the time. And once again I really do. It's all very impractical.
I wake up early because I am hungry. I am hungry all the time. I could eat non stop and I would if I wasn't so nauseous again. In the morning it's not so bad but in the afternoon it sometimes gets so bad I feel the need to lie down and wait for it to pass. Eating in the evening is difficult but sine I'm so bloody hungry I still do. Three cheers for protein shakes. They're a real lifesaver at the moment.
My energy levels and concentration fluctuate a lot. I've been trying to work but it's far from easy. I can't stay focussed for very long most of the time and am tempted to just crawl back into bed. But not at night. When I actually should be sleeping I am wide awake, tossing and turning. I allow myself to stay in bed late by my standards and didn't get up until 9:30 this morning. I also take naps in the afternoon if I can't push myself to do anything useful anyway. I know my body needs to get used to not having any oestrogen at all any more and this will pass. I'm trying to listen to what my body needs as best I can but it's frustrating. It would be nice if my body would agree to get that sleep at a more convenient time. I have no idea how long this will last but there is nothing I can do about it.
One of the things my body needs a lot of food and rest for is my muscles. After not training at all for 2 months your body gets a bit of a shock anyway when you start working out again. But with the new hormonal balance it's even stronger. My muscles want to grow and so far every time I did a BodyPump class I was able to put a bit extra on my barbell. I'm not getting very sore at all which is good I guess. I'm trying not to up my weights too fast even though it is very tempting. When I was still figuring out the right dosage for my testosterone my muscle mass and fat mass fluctuated too much and I ended up with a shoulder injury. I don't want that to happen again so I'm making sure I'm going easy on my joins. They need time to get used to the extra strain. I really can't wait to get to proper weights again though. I can finally create the body I've always wanted.

Getting back to work is harder then I had thought. It has been a while since I completely focussed on my own creative processes. The past few years I have been so busy with other things, like running the gallery, I didn't have much time for my own stuff. Now I've had time to think about what I really want in life I have decided to give myself another chance and really go for it. After painting abstract for about a decade I am going back to more figurative work so this means I'm back to drawing. Only slightly frustrating as I used to be pretty good at it but am not quite rusty. I'm practising the basics again, doing model drawing from a book, which I see as a necessary evil right now. Once things get better it will start being fun again I'm sure. And then I can paint again.
I am at my fourth set up for my book on my transition and feel like I finally have something that could work. I had planned to use this blog as a base to work from but copy pasting large passages seems pointless. People can just read the blog then. Right now it is taking on a novel like shape. Page one of chapter one seems finished right now but I still have about 300 pages or more to go so it's very well possible I'll rewrite that page or move it at some point. It feels good to have started though. I'm really curious where this will take me. I have started writing so many novels when I was younger but never actually finished one. This would be the first. It's a new life indeed.

Pictures of my work can be found on my Facebook page.

Recovering from surgery: week 6.

Officially it takes 6 weeks to recover from surgery so this was my last week. Honestly it felt like there wasn't much left to do. I already felt fit and everything. I just used the recovery as an excuse not to ride a bike. I don't like biking. If I could I would just walk everything. But now I don't have any excuses any more. I really have recovered.

My doctor told me I wasn't allowed to lift anything heavier then 3Kg per arm. I really tried to stick to that. I really did. But it's more like a guideline anyway. People heal at different speeds and my starting strength was a bit higher then average anyway. So on Monday, 3 days before my recovery officially ended, I went to the gym for a BodyPump class. As an instructor I used to push quite a bit of weight but not having done this training in 6 months plus the surgery I had to go all the way back to beginner's weights. This did mean 3.5Kg per side for the chest and back track but I figured it would be fine. I managed but to be honest it was a bit of a shock. Mostly for my legs. They started shaking during the back track (number 4) and didn't really stop. I was glad we didn't have to do lunges that day. My legs and biceps were sore for 4 days. The rest wasn't too bad. And what's the best thing for muscle soreness? You got it! Thursday I hit the gym again. Since I had officially hit the 6 week marker I decided I could up the weights for the chest and back by one kilo and this felt much better already. I really missed it. My body had missed it. I'm only slightly sore now, hardly at all. It seems like my body got the message: we're moving again. And my body likes it.

I'm not sure if it's because I started training again or if it's because all the oestrogen is completely gone now, but the past few days I seem to be getting the same effect I did when I just started hormones: I'm tired, hungry and horny. I feel like 16 yet again. I hope this will help me get back into shape sooner. When I first started I was able to built a lot of muscle in a short period of time. It would be great if I could do that again. Even though I am quite content with the scars at the moment, I'm less happy with the overall shape of my body right now. The scars are still fresh and they well get less hard and red eventually. I know it takes time and when I look at some of my old scars I have nothing to worry about. But the shape of my body is something I will need to fix myself. I'll keep on tracking my physical process on tumblr.

As far as my transition goes all that is left now is paperwork. I can pick up my new passport on Monday and then I can start changing my names and gender everywhere. I'm planning a little trip with a friend of mine in November, just to have crossed the border with my new passport. It felt like I was stuck here for ages. It will be so good to be able to spread my wings and celebrate my regained freedom.

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Recovering from surgery: week 5.

Time really does fly. It feels like it has been ages since my surgery. It feels like I have almost fully recovered. Last Tuesday was my birthday and as a special surprise my stitches finally decided to let go. Most of them are gone now. Only a few bits are still sticking out and they will have to dissolve with time. It feels quite liberating. As long as the stitches were still there it felt like things could still go wrong but now their really just scars and those will fade eventually. I have most of my mobility back. The main reason why some movements are still a bit tricky is because the drains made quite a nasty impression, literally. Also my skin is still not completely recovered, mostly where the stickers were that were keeping the drains in place. All the scabs from the hysterectomy are gone as well. The lowest one that was the biggest is quite hard and still a bit sore. Other then that I'm doing fine.

Officially I still have to wait a whole week before I can start lifting again but that doesn't mean I can't do anything at all. I was going nuts having to sit still all the time. So I decided cardio should be okay. I signed up at a gym again this week and went to take a BodyCombat class last night. It was great to be moving again. I kept my movements small and skipped the push ups but I was honestly surprised at how well it went. My lower abdomen will take a bit more time to get back in shape but I turned out to be a lot fitter then I had expected. I am somewhat sore now but in a good way. I feel alive again. It's a good kind of sore. I really can't wait to go again. Next week I can start doing BodyPump again. I'm really looking forward to it.

There isn't really much else to tell about my recovery at the moment. I'm doing great. I guess my life starts at 36.

Recovering from surgery: week 3.

After two weeks I was allowed to remove the tape from the cuts on my chest. For me this was one of those moments when hope turns into reality. Before removing the tape I wasn't sure what it looked like and it could be anything. I knew it wouldn't be perfect. I knew it would still be healing and it would still get better in time. I knew it would be better then how it was before because that fitted me even less then this would. You know there will be scars and when you remove the tape they're still wounds even. You know all this. But when you remove the tape it becomes real. At least, it did for me. Before the surgery I felt deformed. I knew after the surgery I would be mutilated. I know that sounds dramatic, but in a way it's true. Your body has been altered permanently because someone has cut you up and the scars are there for life. It is a constant reminder that I am not 'a real boy'. I had quite some trouble accepting what I saw. I'm slowly getting used to it and now it's healed even more it is starting to look a bit better. It doesn't look like wounds as much as it does as scars and that feels better because that means it's in the past and I can move on. I'm sure there will be days when I hate the way it looks but I am glad I did it. It was the lesser evil and I do feel better. I have no regrets. It just takes some time to get used to this new body.

The binder still had to stay on though. Officially it has to stay on for 4 weeks and after that I can take it off at night and slowly get used to not wearing it. For me it feels ridiculous. I can move quite freely and feel confident when doing normal things around the house. The first few times I took it off to take a shower it did feel awkward and unsafe to talk around without it for more then half an hour. But now I actually take it off for an hour or longer every day so my skin can recover a bit. The binder is tight and wearing it 24/7 chafes my skin. It's getting really irritated and it feels like a graze wound is developing under my arms and around my chest. The heat really doesn't help either. I can't wait to be able to take it off as right now having to wear the binder seems to be costing a lot more energy then I get benefits from it.

My gynaecologist, doctor Milo, wanted to see me for a check up that week. They had made an appointment for me without asking me and the letter they had send to confirm had ended up at a different address so I didn't know until they called on Monday to ask if I could come earlier the next day. Luckily I could. I actually got the letter and some get well soon cards from some friends that afternoon. The person who had received my mail had just returned from holiday and dropped them into my mailbox.
Honestly it felt a bit like a waste of my time. I was on my way for two and a half hours and was only in his office for about 5 minutes. He took a quick look at the scabs, told me to keep them clean and that I shouldn't ride a bike for another 3 weeks or so and that was it. He told me there was no need for me to come back again but if I needed anything I could always call. At least that part is done now. I don't have to think about the hysterectomy any more other then letting the scabs heal. The lowest one is giving me a bit of trouble though as my underwear, jeans, etc cover it and it gets irritated. I hope it starts healing properly soon because it's really annoying. I don't mind walking around in my birthday suit at home at these temperatures but I do need to put something on when I go outside. I guess it just takes time.

Wednesday I went to city hall. I had thought that changing my birth certificate would just be a technicality but it turned out it did feel like an important step. I wanted to get it done so it would all be official and I could really move on. The lady helping me was really nice. They had made a check list of all the information they needed and everything because they wanted to be well prepared. This was all new to them as the new law had only been passed a few weeks before. I was the fourth transsexual to come and change his passport under the new law in my city. One of my oldest friends happened to be nearby so he came along and we had coffee and a chat while the nice lady went to dig up my certificate and scribble on it. It feels really good to have that done. It's a load off. Things are finally getting real. And soon I can really get on with my life. Just a few more weeks of recovery and I'm good to go.

Recovering from surgery: week 2.

The second week after my surgery I felt much better. The drains were gone and I regained a lot of range of motion rather quickly. I still needed some help but less every day. Slowly I started picking up chores around the house. I would manage making myself a salad for lunch and then I would lie down and take a break before eating it. I always want to do everything myself but I'm also quite capable of listening to my own body and after something like that my chest would clearly give off a sign for me to slow down. Everything took a lot longer then usual but at least I managed. That was the most important thing. If you just sit down and do nothing for 6 weeks it will take longer to recover. You need to keep the blood flowing to supply building blocks and to get rid of the rubble. You need to keep moving to keep the muscles and tendons from shrinking. If you don't your body will get stuck and it can take a lot longer before you can do all the things you used to do again. You have to be a bit bold every now and then. Of course, that's not a problem in my case. I was actually more surprised to see myself holding back and not pushing things too much. The first time I went for a walk again I just went around the block instead of just heading off for a longer distance. Pretty quickly I managed a whole hour again but I didn't force it. By the end of the week I felt like I could do pretty much anything again. as long as I didn't lift anything too heavy.

I got really lucky with how quickly I recover. I still have some time to go but I improved much faster then I had expected. I thought I would still be drinking through straws by now. Turns out it's really not that bad. I guess a lot of your recovery depends on how fit you are when you go into surgery. I don't smoke any more which also helps a lot and I eat very healthy stuff. Plus I heal pretty well in general. My body seems to be quite resilient. I'm just lucky that way. I know I'm not a standard case and most people aren't able to sleep on their sided or stomach even in the second week. I'm not complaining.

One thing people tend to forget is that when you take out your ovaries and don't produce much oestrogen any more your body changes. This is usually called: The Change. But in transmen the testosterone should replace most of the functions of oestrogen. Testosterone and oestrogen are not the same though and you do have some effects of menopause. How much is very different for people. I know one transguy who had horrible night sweats and all of that. Some people hardly notice anything. I got a few hot flashes for about 3 days and that was pretty much it. The only thing I really noticed was how unhappy my bladder was. Your fluid balance changes when you go from oestrogen to testosterone. They simply have different set points. So you lose some weight because you lose some fluids. A lot of women get bladder infections during this period because of the ridiculous amount of fluids that pass through. Three cheers for cranberries. It wasn't just the hormones though. With my uterus gone everything in my belly had started to move around. The first week this was really uncomfortable but it settled quite a bit the second week. Still, it felt weird. And my bladder probably needed to get used to the new neighbours as well. This might take a few weeks but it's not something I need to worry about. It would be nice not to have to get up 3 times at night to go to the bathroom though.

Recovering from surgery: week 1.

The first 2 days after the surgery I had to stay at the hospital. I wrote about that in my previous post. On Saturday morning they sent me home with my drains. I was really happy to go home and at that point I didn't care about having to keep the drains. Well, it sucked, but I figured it was better to go home with them then having to stay. I felt much better just wheeling out of there. The dear friend who was picking me up had decided it would be fun to push me around in a wheelchair and she was right; it was.

She dropped me off at home and stayed for a cup of tea. It was so nice to be at my place again, with proper tea and a nice sofa. And no nurses sticking things into my ears and all that. I slept really well that night, even with the drains. The next day I felt even better. This didn't last too long though. Having the drains was, well, draining. The stitches that were holding them in place really hurt. That was actually all that hurt. I quit taking the diclofenac on Monday and on Thursday I took the last paracetamol which I had felt was symbolic anyway. But the pain from the drains made it really hard to move. I was also impossible to have a proper shower and I needed help to get into and out of my binder. I still felt really dependant on other people. I was. Good thing I had lots of help.

This is something I was really surprised about, in a good way. A lot of people will tell you: if you need anything, just let me know. But when push comes to shove you just have to wait and see who actually shows up. My friends had told me I really had to ask and I had assured them I would. But I didn't need to. They offered. And they came. People sent me text messages or PM's on Facebook, asking me if I needed anything and when they could stop by. I actually had to make an effort to keep the visitors down to 2 a day and sometimes someone would just show up and I actually would have 3 people over in one day. People bought me flowers. I never get flowers. But I did now. People brought me vegetables and prepared food for me. They did my dishes. I even got help with my laundry. I couldn't believe it. I felt so blessed. I have a hard time asking for help as I've always needed to do everything on my own and have been quite a loner most of my life. This was a new experience for me and I'm very happy for it.

The rest of the time I mostly spent on the sofa with a book symbolically in my hands. I managed some reading but not much. Having to drag around the drains was exhausting. They ruled my every move. Getting up to walk to the toilet or kitchen was something I needed to prepare for mentally. As the days went by and the fluids got less and less and the drains therefore more useless and just an annoyance, I started to feel like a prisoner again. I went looking for ways to get rid of them as soon as possible. I first asked a friend who is studying to be a doctor but she told me she had never removed a drain so it didn't seem like a good idea. My GP is an idiot. He told me I should just put my drains in a bad and walk over there if I wanted him to take a look at it. Sorry but I just had a hysterectomy, I'm not even supposed to go outside the first week. He didn't understand how that could be a problem. It sounded like he was just panicking and didn't want to help me because he didn't know what to do. Like I said, he's an idiot. I figured I didn't trust him with something like this and I should be getting a different GP anyway so I decided against it in the end. I called the hospital on Monday, hoping they would be willing to get me an appointment sooner then Thursday as they had first suggested. They gave me Wednesday. What a difference a day makes. It seemed much closer now and I had something to count down to. I counted the hours.

The same friend who had picked me up had offered to give me a ride again and she actually had time that day so it was all perfect. My plastic surgeon first removed the drains without question and I felt better right away. People told me that removing the drains can feel really weird but one I didn't feel at all and the other one felt a bit like something was pulling on the inside but that was what was actually happening. It didn't feel awful or anything, just a bit strange. She took a look and told me everything was fine. She asked if she could take some pictures so she could use them for a presentation in November. People kept asking her about the volume of nipple stems so she wanted to use me as an example. About what? During the chest surgery you cut loose the nipple which has a cluster of veins and nerves (I think it's called the stem). If the stem is too long you have to cut it and do a loose nipple transplant, reattaching it elsewhere. If the stem is short enough and strong enough you can keep it in tact. The advantage of keeping the stem is possibly regaining sensation in your nipples again. They can function close to normal again if you're lucky. The downside, for a lot of transmen, is the bulk of the stem. Most transmen want to be as flat as possible because they want to be as passable as possible. But people are now wondering how much bulk we're actually talking about here. So she needs examples. She asked me to send her pictures of my chest in a couple of weeks and I told her I would also send her some end of October so people can see how it looks in the long run. Four months isn't that long but it's all the time we've got. If you want to see the whole development you can check my tumblr. I'm posting pictures almost every day.
Then she send me home again. I didn't have to make a new appointment or anything. Of course, if I felt the need I could call. I felt home feeling great. You always do when a burden has been lifted. All I had to do now was keep on my binder for another 3 weeks and then try not to run to the gym for another 2. Just a few more countdowns and I can start my life.

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Surgery part two: my stay at the hospital.

Hospitals are strange places. Nobody really likes them. It's where you go when something is wrong, usually. I don't like hospitals either. One of the things hospitals are, unfortunately, well know for is the bad food. I know I'm difficult with food in general but hospitals are a really bad place to have food allergies and not sticking to the food pyramid. I eat primal and low carb. Grain and I are not friends. I told them this and so they served me gluten free bread. Maybe it's just because they don't serve it a lot (most of the time it arrived frozen) but it tasted like cardboard. It also had the texture of cardboard. I know the anaesthesia didn't help but my stomach reacted pretty much the same way as to normal bread. Not well. I had brought some food myself but not enough and it didn't stop them from trying to feed me cardboard and milk all the time. I didn't have the energy to explain to them why I didn't want any so just repeated I was allergic or simply said no thanks. So this was no fun and really didn't help my recovery.

Don't get me wrong. The nurses were all really nice and trying to be helpful. But they also had instructions to follow, protocols and such. Just like with the people who did my surgery I felt like they had to take an empathy course or something at that hospital. I was truly amazed. They really tried to make me as comfortable as possible with the means they had.

The other thing that didn't help was the lack of sleep. Hospitals are very noisy. And with the heat we had to leave the window open to get in some cooler air. This meant we were also letting in all the lovely sounds of the train, the tram, the highway and the huge flock of blackbirds. I don't sleep well in unknown environments in general and if they are noisy I can pretty much forget about it. A nurse coming in at 1 and 6 in the morning to check my pulse and blood pressure didn't help much either. My temperature has been checked more often during my stay at the hospital then in the 10 years before that. And if the nurses weren't chatting just outside the room which was at the beginning of the hall so everyone had to pass by our room, the other trans guys would be snoring softly. If I had been able to move I would have been tossing and turning all night long. But I couldn't. The drains made it impossible to lay in any other position then coma mode; flat on your back with your arms along your sides. Both your chest and abdomen had been stitched up so you didn't want to put your arms anywhere on your body. Truly wonderful.

After a hysterectomy (removal of the uterus and ovaries) you only have to stay one night but after a mastectomy (the chest surgery) you have to stay a bit longer. It depends on the drains sticking out of your armpits. Usually it's 2 or 3 nights and then they remove the drains. Sometimes they send you home with drains though. After 2 nights of about 3 hours sleep each I was ready to go home. I felt like a prisoner, claustrophobic and helpless. I'm not good at giving up control and having people prod and poke me 6 times a day, feeding me bad food and pills while I have a bunch of tubes sticking out of me was not my idea of a good time. I was amazed at how quickly I plummeted into feelings of depression and it really scared me. I knew I had to get out of there. So on Saturday morning I managed to convince the nurse to convince my doctor to let me go home, drains and all. She called my doctor and a few hours later I was on my way home. I felt so relieved. At that point I didn't care I had to keep the drains for 5 more days until my check up. All I wanted was to go home so I could sleep. And I did. I slept 10 hours that night while I usually sleep about 6 or 7. I was so happy to be home. The worst had passed. Things were only going to get better.


For pictures of my recovery check out my tumblr.

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Surgery part one: the surgery itself.

It has been 12 days since my surgery and I am healing well. I'm feeling well enough to attempt to write a blog. I'm not sure if I'll be able to finish it in one go but we'll just have to wait and see.

First things first: how was the surgery?
Scary. No matter how well you prepare and how ready you think you are, you get scared. Even if it's just for a few seconds. I knew I would and I knew it was okay. A wonderful friend drove me to the hospital at 6 in the morning and waited with me until they wheeled me to surgery. I had to be at the hospital at 6:30 and would be brought down to surgery at 7:30. This meant they had an hour to check a my vitals and some data, give me painkillers, and let me get nervous. You sit there in your blue gown, waiting, and you have time to think. Am I making the right choice? Do I really have a choice? What if something goes wrong? What if they do something I didn't sign up for? What if there are complications and the results are horrible and I would have been better of not having the surgery? And a ton of other similar questions. But they're not real questions. It's not real doubt. There is no way back. I  passed the point of no return two and a half years ago when I realized I had to go into transition if I ever wanted to be happy. In for a penny, in for a pound. I knew I had to do this.

At some point someone told me I would be fine, after all, this was what I wanted. This comment really bothered me and still does. A lot of people think that, being transgender, you want to have surgery. Actually, you don't. You want the results surgery can give you. You don't actually want a bunch of strangers knocking you out, laying you out on a table, naked and completely defenceless, cutting you up. Nobody wants that. That was one of the scariest bits about it all. I didn't see her again and was glad. The anaesthesiologist I had recognised my Terry Pratchett tattoo and that immediately put her in the category of good people so that helped a lot. Everyone was really nice and they asked me several times which procedures I was having to make sure I knew what was happening and it reassured me we were on the same page and they weren't going to do things I didn't want them to.

So now it's 13 days as a friend stopped by and I didn't get around to finishing this yesterday. On with the story.

They didn't ask me to count down from whatever when they put me under. They gave me oxygen and told me to take deep breaths while the drugs were pumped into my veins through the IV. And then I woke up again. So that was that. It had been done.

You don't feel yourself falling asleep or anything. It's like a light switch. One moment you're there, the next you're gone. When I woke up I was not in pain. I was mostly just dizzy from the morphine. I felt like I really had to lie down, even though I was already flat on my back. I felt like I had smoked bad weed. Not very comfortable. A nurse asked me something and I tried to respond but my throat was sore and I could barely talk. She told me it was from the tube they had used to breath for me. This came as a bit of a shock as no one had mentioned this to me. I had read it in one of the many brochures they had given me but it was so much information I hadn't registered it. The thought of not having been able to breath on my own is a scary one but I didn't have time to really think about it. They were pushing more morphine into my IV and I felt too dizzy to comment on anything. My heart rate and blood pressure went up. Looking back I think it was caused my the morphine. I'm a very independent person and am terrible at not being in control of my own body. The morphine pretty much paralysed me and my brain gave off a fight or flight response. Luckily I had been given a PCA so after the first shots I could regulate the morphine myself. I cut back to one tenth of the allowed dose and felt better quickly.

Both surgeons stopped by to tell me how things went. The gynaecologist was very happy. He said everything went really well and blood loss had been minimal. I should make an appointment for a check up later on. He is going on a holiday for 3 weeks mid July and if I didn't manage to get an appointment before then it was fine to come see him when he was back. If he doesn't see any need to see me sooner then in 6 weeks time or so I feel like I have nothing to worry about at all when it comes to the hysterectomy. This was very comforting.

The plastic surgeon stopped by as well. She was also quite happy with how things went. She was able to leave the blood vessels and nerves to my nipple in tact so this means in time I can actually get some sensation back. I was very happy to hear that. And that was pretty much it. All that was left was waiting until they would let me go home so I could start recovering.

If you want to see some photo's of my chest and how it's healing you can check my tumblr.

The first day of the rest of my life.

If all goes well the day after tomorrow will be the first day of the rest of my life. I'm still half expecting one of my surgeons to have the flue or something. But it will happen. It has to. I have been waiting for this too long already. My bag is packed, I'm ready to go. I have a friend driving me there, another one picking my up and a few visiting me during my stay (including a friend who is like a brother to me who will come visit on his birthday! Love him to bits). After that I have plenty of offers from friends to help me with stuff I need like cooking, food shopping and other chores around the house. Everything is set. All I have to do now is wait for 36 more hours and that's it.

People want to know if I'm nervous. That's a silly question. If course I'm nervous! Something would be wrong if I wasn't. But I'm not scared. It's like the first day of school. Or more like the start of a journey, like I'm moving to a different land. I bought my ticket, I know where I want to go and when I've landed I have to make sure I find my new apartment. Once I'm there everything will sort itself out. But first I have a plane to catch and luggage to check in and pick up again, passport checks and metal detectors to walk through, and a long while of sitting and waiting to get there while I'm moving through time and space. I have been preparing for this for over 2 years now and it is finally happening. Yes, I'm nervous, because this is very important to me and I am very excited, but I'm not scared.

I've said this before: transition is like having a baby. You think about it for a long time, then you make the decision and start preparing for it. Once things have been set in motion you can't go back. There is a lot of waiting, a lot of people poking your body and your mind, and hormones going off balance, but you know it will be worth it. You've been making changes around the house, in your wardrobe, in your social life, all preparing for this. And then, suddenly, it is really happening. It's just around the corner. You are really doing this. You already knew you couldn't go back any more, you passed the point of no return the moment you made the decision to do this, but now it really is final. There is no other option but to go through with this. It's not that you're having doubts. Not at all. It's just that you know that your life will never be there same and you don't know what it will be like after that moment. In a way, very little will change. But in a way, everything will change. It's scary. Change is always scary, no matter how exciting it may be. I'm pretty sure I'll be crying tears of relief after the surgery. And after that? Who knows. It will be the first day of the rest of my life and anything will be possible.


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Two weeks and counting.

Fourteen days and one night until my surgery. That doesn't sound very long does it? When I called the hospital to ask when I could get my surgery they told me 4 to 6 weeks after the surgeons have seen you. In my case it turned out to be 11 weeks and it took a lot longer to see my surgeons that I had hoped as well. You are allowed to have surgery one year after you have been given permission to start hormone treatment. Waiting your turn for the screening and the actual screening take quite some time as well. In total it has been 2 and a half years since I came to the conclusion that this was something I had to do. Two and a half years. That's a long time. So what's an extra three months? What's two more weeks? It's a lot I tell you. A lot.

I know I come across as very level headed. Everyone thinks I'm a stable, independent, resilient, strong person who can handle things very well on his own. And they're right, usually I can. But it has been two and a half years of my life constantly revolving around my transition. Me jumping through hoops and sitting on my hands while waiting for others to make major decisions over my life. To say it has been stressful would be an understatement. And I am done. I am tired of it all. I need this to be over. After this I still have to change my passport and of course the VUmc has designed a few more hoops to jump through before I can do that. I can see if I can arrange it some other way once I've had my surgery but that would be more hoops still. I'm not sure which would be easier. I'm tempted to give in and pay the VUmc the 65 euro's simply because I don't have any fight left in me, even though I should have the right to change my passport without their expert statement after my surgery.

I am a strong person. I'm an adult. My transition has been relatively easy. The only people who objected to my transition are people who are not really part of my life any more anyway. Until recently I didn't have any real trouble with the hospital or insurance company (delays don't count, they are normal). And still, I am at the end of my rope. I am done. I am out of energy. I am so tired I feel like banging my head into the wall. I can't sleep, I'm too restless. I can't eat, I'm too stressed. I can't work, I can't focus. Even breathing takes effort. I need this to be over. But there is nothing I can do. 14 days, 12 hours and 17 minutes. I'm counting.

Countdown to surgery.

Yesterday I went from counting the weeks to counting the days left until my surgery. I have thirty days to go. When I first got my date I still had over 7 weeks, almost 2 months. It felt so far away I was able to put it out of mind and not get too distracted by it. Now it's getting closer. I can feel my energy levels dropping. I'm restless. I wander around my apartment. I stare out the window, watching the rain. I open the fridge but can't really bring myself to eat. I'm too tense. I try to read or to paint but have a hard time focussing. I take breaks while watching a movie. I watch nonsense on YouTube to distract me because it's stuff I don't really need to think about anyway. I'm going nuts.

I had not expected this. Not this soon anyway. But here it is non the less. This surgery basically means the end of my transition. I still need to fix my passport after that and I told myself that would be the point where it's officially over but it doesn't feel that way. The passport feels like a technicality. It's the surgery that makes it all real. That's the rebirth. That's the moment from which on my life will never be the same. That's when I can start my new life. I know that all sounds really dramatic but that's how it feels. It's one of those big markers in one's life. For most people it is the birth of their child, or a wedding, or something like that. A moment that changes your life for ever. And you know it's coming. You have that date marked on your calender. That's when it will happen.

You know what the big event will be and that it will impact your life on every level. You just don't know how. You have no way of knowing how it will affect you. Therefore there is no way you can prepare for this change. You just know it is going to happen. You just have to wait and see what happens. I could tell you I'm worried about the surgery but I'm really not. I have a great team and they will do the best they can. I could tell you I'm worried about the anaesthesia and how I will respond to that but somehow that doesn't really worry me either. I'm pretty sure I'll be fine.

Other trans people warned me about the big black hole after transition. I hadn't expected to fall for it. Not like they meant anyway. It's about something different for me. For the past 6 years I have been working very hard on being okay. I kicked anorexia, depression, addictions, self harm. This is the last thing on that list of things I can do to make my life better. After this there is no other clear problem that I can fix to make things better for myself. What if I'm still not okay after this? I know I'm going to be stuck with the scars. From the surgery, from the self harm, from the anorexia, from everything. I still have a lot of nerve pain that never really goes away. I live with it because that's the only thing I seem to be able to do. My energy levels are still fragile compared to most people, especially when you look at how well I take care of myself. Those things won't go away. So what do you do when you have fixed everything you can fix and it's still broken?

Don't get me wrong. I can't wait to have the surgery. I'm really looking forward to seeing the results and being free of those bits that are holding me back so much right now. It will be so nice to see what my chest really looks like without those weird blobs covering the muscle. I'm curious what will happen when the oestrogen is no longer holding back the effects of the testosterone. I'm going to grow a big ginger beard, just because I can! And yes, I will post a picture ;)



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So what happens next?

It’s been a while since I posted my last blog. People have been asking me what my plans are for the future. Or more precise: what’s the next project? How about finishing my transition first? I have been forgetting that actually takes a lot of time and mental space as well. Now I do have time to think about these things a lot has been happening inside my head. Surgery is starting to get real as well. This week I have an appointment with a psychiatrist to get the last signature for my referral letter. Three weeks after that I am seeing my surgeons to discuss the options and my wants and needs. After that there is a waiting list of 4 to 6 weeks. So after 10 weeks at the most I will have had my surgery. The way time has flown by the past few months it feels like it could be tomorrow almost. I’m starting to get nervous in a way you do just before you go on a holiday. I’m trying not to expect too much. Someone asked me how I think I will look after the surgery. I have no idea. I don’t think about it because I can’t know until about a year after the surgery and I have completely healed and my hormones have settled etc. All I can do now is hope for the best and see what happens. It’s weird to be thinking about things like nipples. Most people take them for granted. They’re just there. But now I have to decide if I want my surgeon to do something with them or not. I’m not 100% sure yet. I’ll wait and see what she says. She’s the expert in the end. I don’t feel the need to have them reduced right now but they look quite different on my chest the way things are anyway so it’s hard to tell.

I have decided to have the hysterectomy. I’m not sure if I mentioned that before. There are several reasons for this:

I don’t plan on having kids anyway so I don’t need a uterus.

Hormone treatment increases cancer risks and I don’t really feel like getting cancer.

And, last but not least, the estrogen I’m still producing is counterproductive.

People seem to think that more testosterone means less estrogen and yes, if all is well your ovaries become less active. Not always though. People have been calling me miss again lately in stores. I noticed my body and face had been changing again the wrong way around. I used a bit of extra testosterone for about a week and now seem to be back on track again. In the meantime the extra hair did expand. My voice is also still slowly changing. So the testosterone is doing its work. But when the fat distribution makes my face look more feminine people still misgender me. It’s rather frustrating and I really can't wait to get rid of the estrogens so I can really start looking like myself. I’m getting closer but I know I’m still not there.

Another thing that happens is that people think I’m much younger then I am. I’m 35 and I usually don’t mind if people think I’m a bit younger but when someone thinks I’m 17 I really don’t know how to respond. This really happened two days ago. I’m still amazed. And of course this happens right at the moment when I start to be okay with being an adult. I know that sounds silly but that happens to all of us. We all feel like we are going to be young forever and then, one day, we wake up and we find we are supposed to be adults. We don’t know how that happens, but it does. Just like that. When you’re young you think it’s something that happens to other people and that they will know how to deal with it when the time comes. But I’m guessing there are quite a few people who don’t. Or at least, at first. I guess it’s about attitude, how you deal with things. I think I have grown quite a bit lately in that aspect. Even though I don’t have some sort of job anymore I feel more in control of my life. I finally have time to paint again and I have started to write a book. It feels great to be able to make my own schedule and do things at my own pace. I keep forgetting I don’t work well with deadlines and a packed calendar. I need space to breathe. So that’s what I’m doing. I’m taking responsibility for my own life. If that isn’t a grown up thing to do, I don’t know what is. 

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So how is the transition coming along then?

Well, there is good news and there is bad news. The good news is that, according to my therapist, I should be able to get surgery in spring 2014. The bad news is that my insurance company claims they won't cover it unless I get it done at the VUmc. This would mean an extra year on the waiting list. And that is not an option. Why? Because it just isn't. I'm going mental as it is. Waiting 5 or 6 months seems like an eternity already. Waiting an extra year feels like a life time. What am I supposed to do all that time? Sit at home and twiddle my thumbs? Once I have had the surgery I can start building my life again. I can move on. As long as I haven't had it my whole life is about my gender. And it sucks. I know a lot of people think this is a very exciting time but it's not. Mostly it just sucks.

There are good days when I look in the mirror and think I am starting to look like me. There are bad days when I feel like throwing up while I'm not even looking. The more I am getting to terms with being a guy, the less I like my body. I used to really hate my body and had anorexia for years but that was just a general 'I hate myself and wish I didn't exist' kind of thing. Now it is much more focused. I know very well what it is about my body that is wrong. Before I had been able to pinpoint the problem the hatred was more defused and aimed at my body and myself in broader terms. I wasn't sure what was wrong so I figured if I make everything go away I must be hitting the right spot at some point. But now I do know what is wrong and I know how to fix it. But they won't let me. I spent most of my twenties as a mental patient trying to figure this out and now I finally have the answer they tell me I have to wait. I really can't.

Some people say: but it's the inside that matters, right? It's not about how you look, it's about how you feel. That's nice. That's really nice. But it's also completely useless when it comes to this. We all know that the way you look influences the way you feel. Much more then we would like to admit. And every time I am confronted with my body (read my boobs) I feel horrible. This doesn't just happen in the shower. It is constantly there. Binders are uncomfortable to say the least. They restrain you in your movement, your breathing, and are a constant reminder of the fact that you are hiding a part of you that is not supposed to be there. I hate wearing binders and at home I sometimes don't because feeling the binder can sometimes be worse then wearing a tight shirt to keep things in place with a wide vest over it so I don't have to see the shape. Having them there just feels wrong. I have this voice in the back of my head telling me that I'm not really a man, just look at my chest. That's just wrong. No way I could ever expect to be a real man looking like that. What on earth am I thinking? I want to be a boy? Really? What an absurd idea. I must be insane. It simply can not be done. I have carried this voice with me for about 30 years now. And I need it to shut up. It makes me want to cry. It makes me want to vomit. It makes me want to shred myself to pieces. I can't wait an extra year for surgery. I need to get out of this cage and set myself free.

I will find a way to get my insurance to cover for the surgery and if they really won't I can switch in January. If no insurance company  will take me because of this I'll find another way to get it done. I only need about 40,000 euro's or so. Anybody want to buy a painting?

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Testosterone is still too high.

My doctor left me a voice mail to let me know my testosterone level is still too high. He didn't say how high exactly but I'm guessing he really means way too high. He wants me to go down to using 10mg of gel a day. Normal dose is 50mg. I even know someone who uses 100mg. It seems like my skin is just super thin and absorbent. You can't really go lower then 10mg so I really hope this will do the trick. It feels almost silly rubbing that tiny bit on. I'll just have to wait and see what happens. I will get bloodwork done again after two weeks and then have to wait another two weeks for the results.

Having lowered my dosage I had assumed it was fine and I figured the way I was feeling was due to stress. I have been taking some more time to myself though and it hasn't helped much. My energy levels are still low. I have trouble sleeping. I feel restless. And the nausea is still there. The excess testosterone is being turned into estrogen which probably explains the change in my body composition. Where I was gaining muscle and losing fat at first, it is now the other way around. Not very drastic, but consistent every week: a bit more fat and a bit less muscle. And that while I am working out plenty and am eating as best as I can, keeping close track on my nutrients. For a while I thought it might be because I wasn't getting enough rest to recover but now I am getting more rest things have not improved. I'm hoping lowering my testosterone will help.

It has been 3 days since I cut back to 10mg and so far I don't feel any difference. I actually feel a bit flu-ish but I have been feeling like that for weeks now. I really hope that will get better soon as well. It's driving me nuts. My body is clearly off balance. It's not very surprising. A lot is changing and it needs to find a new equilibrium. Right now my body is still fighting the hormones my ovaries are making. This doesn't make it any easier. I have been thinking about it again and right now I'm really leaning towards also getting a hysterectomy when I get my chest done. That way my body doesn't have to fight itself anymore. And then I can really move forward. It feels scary though. From what I heard from other transmen the hysterectomy is mostly heavy mentally. It's a big step. But right now I feel like it would be the best thing to do to find a proper balance. Of course, my body will have to reset hormonally again after that but then everything will be done. I'm dreading the recovery period. Not being able to go to the gym will suck. Not being able to do all the things I want to do, not being able to carry my own bloody shopping the first few days... But it will be worth it. The longer I'm on hormones the more I feel like my chest and belly are wrong. They don't fit me. They're not part of me. They don't belong there. It's strange. When I have clothes on I look more and more like myself. But when I take them off I look less and less like myself. There is only one way to fix that though. And I have to be patient for that. Right now all I can do is keep my fingers crossed and figure out what to make for dinner. I think I'll have chicken.

On a lighter note: I have had my last meeting for my screening at the VUmc in Amsterdam. I can call them November 8th to see if I have green light on hormone treatment so I can start my Real Life Experience phase there. A year after that I will be able to have surgery there. This is a long time away and I don't even want to think about that. It's my safety net in case my insurance won't accept the referral from the Psycho Informa Group. I really hope they will because then I might be able to get surgery as soon as May. *crosses more fingers, and toes and what every available*

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How to get a date in a virgin state.

I have been single for about a year again now. Mostly I am very content with that. I need some time to sort things out for myself. Acting according to your true gender identity while you couldn't for a long time has effect on pretty much every aspect of your life. So you need a little you time. But, I do miss sex, even though it is a bit confusing right now.


People tell me I am (becoming) a pretty boy and they are sure I will find someone really soon. That's all great but also all theory, from them. Reality is different. When it comes to dating and having sex as a boy, or, hopefully, as a man even, I have zero experience. I am clueless. In a way you could say I am back to square one: a virgin. This may sound like an exaggeration but it doesn't make it any less true in my experience. When you talk to girls, or boys, as a girl, trying to get a date with them or anything like that, it's completely different from when doing that as a boy. There are different rules, different expectations. The things I used to do as a girl that would work just fine are now suddenly a no go. And I am clueless. And you'd think that I would know what a girl would like a guy to do when coming on to her, right? Well, there's the problem. I tried to pretend to be a girl, but I wasn't. So I have no clue what a girl would like to hear. I'm a guy, remember. I want a yes to mean yes and a no to mean no. I don't like playing games or beating around the bush. I don't chase. They say that when it comes to gay guys it's all very simple. They're very straight forward when it comes to courtship. But I'm not sure about that in my case. I mean, I don't have a penis but I do have boobs, and that kind of complicates things, doesn't it? If I was a gay guy, I would think twice about taking home a pre-treatment transsexual. After all, if girls don't turn you on and you are confronted with a female body, things could get complicated. So what does that leave me? Should I start screening for bisexuals instead of for just people that I like in general?


Say I actually do manage to take someone home. Sounds great. Then what? I still don't have a penis. A strap on could fix that problem. Still not a real penis so you always treat it differently. Plus, what if that person is actually attracted to vagina's? Am I comfortable with that? How does this all work?! I guess it would depend on who I am with, what they like and how comfortable I feel about that person doing certain things. There are so many options! And I really don't know what I would want and what not. I'm pretty conflicted about how I feel about my downstairs area at the moment. I've never had that before because I never questioned it before. What I had was what I had and that's what I used. But now what I have is not what I should have, so am I still comfortable using it? How much do I miss what I'm missing now that I am aware of the fact that I'm missing it? There is only one way to find out. By having sex. And I would really like to know. I am so curious about all this. But right now it seems like there is no way to find out because, I don't have a freaking pick up line. Help me out here people. How the hell does someone like me, in this state, get a date?


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Boobs, penises, hairy legs and vocal cords.

Most days I shower at the gym but when I do shower at home I take my time. I wash my hair, shave, and contemplate for a bit. It's amazing what you can come up with in the shower. This time the epiphany came when I was shaving. Girls shave their legs, right? Usually anyway. I started shaving my legs when I was 17. Made sense at the time. And I do like smooth skin. My skin just doesn't like shaving and it tends to get irritated. I also really dislike the actual shaving of my legs. And, thinking about it, other people's smooth legs are much more appealing then rubbing my own. So why do I shave my legs?


I teach BodyPump at the gym. This means there are 20-40 people staring at me, watching my every move. Or at least some of it anyway. I am very self conscious when I'm in front of the group because I know those people are judging me. They can tell me they don't but we're all human and we all know we do it. When ever someone is standing in front of a group, they are being judged. And as a fitness instructor you should be setting an example of what a healthy body should look like. This includes personal hygiene. So I have been shaving my legs. But I don't really want to. If I was a 'real boy' it would be acceptable for me not to shave my legs but not everybody knows I'm not a girl. So there is this group of people who judge me on my appearance with no knowledge of who I really am. And I care. Obviously. Else I would have stopped shaving my legs ages ago. Actually I would have started my transition ages ago if I didn't care what people think of me but we are all human and all need to be accepted by others.


There is another thing I noticed while teaching the other day. I have trouble using my voice properly. As in, when you are instructing people to 'drop that butt an inch deeper' or 'push a little harder' and 'keep going, we're almost there', 'come on, you can make it' and 'go Go GO!', you need to use your voice in a different way then you usually do. Your voice tends to go up, get higher. And it annoys the hell out of me. I know the people in the class really don't care about something like that but it bothers me and I hold back which means I can't help them push further to get those results they want that they can't get on their own. So I need to either get over the fact that my voice does something I don't like, or I need to find words etc. I can use that don't force my voice to pitch like that. Both are difficult. I really can't wait to start testosterone so my voice will lower.


A little detour. I googled for images of phalloplastics the other day, as one does, and came across my own face. It linked to and interview I had done a while back: http://www.tijd-voor-t.nl/portretten/portret-tyler-fokker/ I googled the Dutch word actually which may explain something as the article is in Dutch as well. Honestly I was shocked. I had not expected to find myself so quickly searching for something trans related. I don't want to be defined as a transgender. Sometimes I think I do, but that's bullshit. I don't. No one does. You want to be defined as you. But that's not an option for anyone, no matter what gender you are. You are always a man, or a woman, or something else that has to be defined. And being a transsexual I find myself forced to fight this battle for equality. But men and woman are not equal either. None of us are. Because we keep defining people as either male or female, or something in between which causes confusion. We are not defined as people. Currently, because I have boobs, most people define me as female. The people that know I am male (mostly anyway), try to define me as male. Sometimes that's easier then other days. When I'm at the gym and I wear a sports bra even people who know I'm trans and fully accept and support that still sometimes slip up, because they get distracted by the boobs. This is the main reason why I hate having boobs. Right now I hate having boobs more then I hate not having a penis. I know one day I will have surgery and the boobs will go away. And the surgery for getting a penis is possible these days, but honestly, the thought horrifies me as it will never be a real penis. So far, all the results I have seen, look fake, stuck on and I'm afraid I would hate having that mockery between my legs even more then what I have now.


But what is this really all about? It's about self acceptance. It is? Yes. As long as I don't fully accept who/what I am, people around me won't either. They won't know who I really am if I don't let them know somehow. This is really hard. Because I don't want to be the way I am. This period of transition is horrible. It really, really is. That goes for every transgender that decides to modify their bodies to make it more like who they really are. People know I am transgender, but they don't see anything different about me, so I stay the same mostly. Then the changes will slowly come and people will start to notice something is happening, including people who don't know me. And people will get confused. I probably will as well. I wish I could cocoon like butterflies do. Go in hiding while the changes take place and emerge as the new me. But that's not an option. The only thing I can do to make this transition easier is by embracing it and start making changes where I can. Hiding my transition does not make it easier. Can people really tell if I shave my legs? Do they really care? Does it matter if my voice goes up a bit if it helps those people? Or do I feel more secure when I hold back and can I compensate that way? Do I want to start wearing a chest binder at the gym? Or do I want to be practical? Do I really need to stress about possibly one day getting something that looks like a penis or can I just let that go for now and cross that bridge when I get there? Who knows what might be possible by then?


One thing at a time. For now, I've decided to not shave my legs. That's one down, a million other details left to go. Baby steps, that's the only way to do it. One breath at a time. One day things will get easier. They will start to feel more natural. I can't wait, but I will. I've come to realize that this is probably the biggest journey of my life. If I can do this, I can do anything. I never imagined that not shaving my legs would be such a huge thing to do.


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I had my first meeting with the gender team in Woerden.

The journey has begun.

After months of waiting I finally had my first meeting at the Psycho Informa Groep (P.I.G. and yes that is unfortunate) with Mr A. Man (I'm still serious), a short, slightly bold fellow with blue eyeliner and a purple shirt. He asked me why I was there. A very good question which sounds simpler then it is. But what it boils down to is that my body doesn't fit how I see myself and I can't change the way I feel. So the only option left is to change my body to fit me as a person. I don't want to become a man. A lot of people think I do and sometimes that's what I say but it's not what I mean. I already am a man. I just happen to be in a female body and have a very developed feminine side. I think everyone is a bit of both but most people don't realize it because they are not confronted with it. There are only very few people who fit the male or female stereotype. Do you know anyone who does? 100%? Are you sure? I think I know one guy who does and I know quite a lot of people. He told me a lot of trans people have trouble accepting this. Most trans people have grown to hate their birth gender which is not healthy and takes time to heal. I'm lucky in that way. Part of me will always be girly as hell. I will always be able to chat for hours with a cup of tea and a bucket of chocolate. And there are plenty of other things that 'real men' don't do that I love. I'm cool with that and it seems to me the people around me are as well. Gender is a point of view, a gray scale. It's no longer a marker that determines how you should live your life.

A. Man and I talked for about 2 hours, much longer then I had expected. He's direct but friendly. He asked the right questions, making me think about how and why and what it is that I really want. I think that, in this short period, I already have a better idea of where I want to be in a few years time and of who I really am. I spent so long adapting to my surroundings, pretending to be what I felt society wanted me to be, it has become a second nature, a reflex. I remember, 5 years ago, I bought myself a pair of gloves. It was the first thing I did for myself in a long time. A small act but a huge gesture. Now I am taking things to the next level. I've come to accept who I am, as far as I know myself. Now I am going to be myself. I'm even thinking about doing the hysterectomy for the first time. There are a lot of downsides to it but somehow, today, I feel it would bring me one step closer to myself, away from the lie I have been living.

He explained the procedure to me, the screening, the real life phase and hormone treatment and then the surgery. It's pretty much the same set up as the hospital in Amsterdam only it takes less time. I should be able to get through the screening in about 4 months. And then I have to find someone they can refer me to for hormone treatment. I'm hoping I can get someone at the Local hospital, the LUMC, to do it so I don't have to travel so much. Screening is slightly different from the way they do it in Amsterdam where you get 6 meetings, all a month apart and that's it. Here I get to see him once every week or every 2 weeks and I get as many meetings as he feels I need to get ready for the next step. He wants me to write my life story and expects it to be about 20-25 pages instead of just one page they want in Amsterdam. I do need to sort out a few things with my insurance which will be a pain in the ass but it should be worth it. I also need a new referral from my doctor because the one I had has expired thanks to the waiting list. Lovely. But that's all minor detail when I think about being able to start hormones before my birthday next summer. Bring on the ginger beard!


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It's the waiting that's killing.

Patience is a virtue. It's also something most people lack. That includes me. In some cases I can be patient. If I know why I should be. Like when I am at the gym and I have to wait between set for my ADP to switch back to ATP so I can get a proper training to build some massive masculine muscle. It feels a bit silly, sitting there, waiting, looking like you're doing nothing. But I know why and I know that if I don't I will miss out on some good results and in the long run I will profit from sitting there and being patient.

The waiting list for the genderteam in Amsterdam is 12 to 18 months, read 18 months. Why? because they are understaffed. That's the only reason. They are understaffed because they don't have a sufficient budget. They don't have a sufficient budget because... I don't know. I guess we are such a small group the people dividing the budget figured they can just set us aside cause there wouldn't be that many people complaining about it compared to other budget cuts. And that's the reason why I'm fiddling my thumbs. Lovely. I know money is a complicated matter these days but it does mean there are loads of people sitting and waiting till they can start their lives properly. After years of struggling and doubt you finally come forward just to be told you have to wait to get any kind of help with this for a year and a half. It's just cruel. Sure you can be yourself, just not yet because the government thinks your happiness is not important enough to invest those few euro's. *shudder* And once you've passed that waiting list you have to go through the screening process which can take about 6 months or more if you're unlucky for the exact same reason: lack of funding.

And then? Can you finally get started? Sort of. You can get hormone treatment but you also enter the real life phase. To quote the VU website: Deze fase duurt voor mannen achttien maanden en voor vrouwen twaalf maanden, en houdt in dat men gedurende die periode leeft in de gewenste rol, zonder dat daar een operatie aan [te] pas is gekomen. (http://www.vumc.nl/afdelingen/zorgcentrum-voor-gender/faq/gabvragen/322592) Roughly translated: This phase lasts eighteen months for men and for women twelve months, and implies that during that period you will be living in the desired role, without any surgery. 18 months for men and 12 for women. Okay, so which one do I get? The 12 or 18? Cause I'm a woman by birth. But I am going to be a man... So which one is it? And why is there a difference? Why would one group have to wait longer then the other? Does it take longer for the hormones to take effect? Does that matter? You can have the surgeries without the hormones so that shouldn't be the reason. I honestly don't understand. Do they want to give one group more time to get adjusted? To let their surroundings get used to it? Is that necessary? I mean, you already had to wait a year and a half before you could start hormones. Do they really think we've just been sitting on our asses the whole time and not tell anyone and not make any changes in our appearances? Personally I don't see how I will be doing things much different on hormones from what I do now. I think the biggest change will come after my top surgery. But that won't be covered by my insurance until after the real life phase. I could do it if I pay for it myself though. And I am seriously considering it. I don't want to have to wait that long and I don't want to have to walk around in chest binders all the time (or some of the time anyway) increasing the risk of breast cancer and being uncomfortable because someone at the top decided it's financially more comfortable for them. But I'm sidetracking. I still can't think of any reason why there would be a difference in length for the real life phase for the 2 groups other then simple discrimination. Honestly, I really don't. Could someone explain this to me? I find it amazing that in a place, where people like us are finally supposed to be excepted for who we are completely, we still have to face discrimination.