Posty McPosterson
Jun. 26th, 2014 12:13 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
aidenonymousThat's me alright.
I made a decision today. I'm going to get top surgery, and I'm going to try to do it this summer. I'm calling Fischer's office tomorrow morning to try to schedule it before the end of July. I made this decision in my bonus therapy appointment today. (Normally I go every two weeks, but I got an extra last week and this week because of the deadline I made for myself.)
Ultimately, I couldn't come up with any more reasons not to do it. I had a lot of reasons for and against it that were about external things: how others would react, money, timing, etc. I was focusing on those because they're simpler than the real issue of want vs. need. I want to wake up tomorrow without breasts, and I've felt that way almost* every day for half my life. I guess no one wants to go through the ordeal of surgery, nor risk losing support from the ones they love, nor give up their independence for a few weeks. Maybe there are even others who don't want to "become men," don't think binding is the worst thing ever, and could see themselves living without surgery. And I could argue that I need it because binding really is affecting my health. *I say almost because there were times when I was terribly desperate for attention from boys and felt like boobs were the only thing going for me. Once I got the attention I had sought, I realized why that made no fucking sense and developed a sense of self-worth that didn't depend on being objectified.
The last time I whined about wanting vs. needing top surgery, my therapist said, "Okay, so if you don't do it, you'll get out of the shower and like what you'll see in the mirror," and I apparently made the most horrified face imaginable before repeating the same old, "Yeah, but I could get through it like I have for years. . ." I trailed off when I realized how ridiculous I sounded. I don't need to just deal with it because I know how to. I've felt this way about my body for a long time, and I don't need to just tolerate it. I can't have what I really want, to have never grown the damn things to start with, and I can't wish them away (although I think I did pretty damn well in wishing them to a B from an F). But I can still have a body that would be more comfortable. I don't want to have to double-think my way into the bedroom. I don't want to avoid leaving home so I don't have to choose between impairing my breathing or advertizing my secondary sex characteristics.
I think Fischer's results with peri would make me happy. For the most part, her patients are really satisfied, and I think I'd be satisfied with what they've got, or, at least, I find myself feeling jealous of their results. I can accept the small risk of substantially decreased sensation because I do feel like this is the right thing to do. (Although, I also have a case of "but it won't happen to me" because four years after the previous chest surgery I had, I started regaining sensation that I thought was gone forever and now have almost as much on the side with a scar as on the side without one; basically, I think if I give it enough time to heal I have a good chance of regaining sensation, at least on the side that hasn't already taken damage.) I don't think I'll feel bitter if I get a complication (hematoma/seroma) that compromises the result; I'd consider getting a revision if there were moderate asymmetry or extra skin after a year. Basically, unless I get a life-threatening complication from the anesthesia, I don't think there's much of a way I'd regret this t all, and that's not likely because I've had surgery before without any issues on that end of things.
When I announced that I'd made a decision, my therapist yelled, "Finally!" She'd also said, "Oh, just get the damn surgery!" earlier in the session. I think she may have overstepped her bounds, but I also think I needed that. I'm the kind of person who can't pull off a band-aid, and even though I pay her, no one wants to listen to me talk about this for so many hours. Wait 'till I start to ramble about coming out to my mom before I move back home! My therapist said the letter would be ready tomorrow afternoon. It's been about 12 hours since then, and I haven't changed my mind yet. I think this is the longest I've stuck with a decision on the matter since I found out my insurance was going to change. We'll see how I am in the morning, but I have a good feeling about it.
I called my partner to tell him the news of my decision because I was worried he'd be sad that I decided to get rid of a body part he likes. He was happy because deciding under pressure was making me miserable and now that I've decided we can both move on with our lives (together). I hope he's right that he can stay with me even if my body isn't quite as attractive to him, because I bet I'd regret all kinds of things if I had to convince myself that I'd find love again. Right, so, I have some work to do now. . .
I also picked up my inhaler from the pharmacy today. My endo sent the script electronically because albuterol isn't a controlled substance, and I didn't see until today that I'm supposed to use it four times a day. My previous inhalers were either for emergency use only or twice a day, so either this is a different concentration or my asthma is way worse than it was before. Also, I used it and didn't feel immediate relief. I'm still coughing up mucus all damn day and apparently making a wheezing sound when I do it. I'm going to try to make an appointment with my GP just in case my endo was wrong about the congestion, since that's a problem I'm more familiar with. I guess I have trouble believing that the feeling of not having enough air in my lungs is caused by constricted airways rather than fluid build-up just because that's happened more to me over the past four years.
I chickened out on picking up my prescription for T. I have about a month's worth of 1% gel left in the pump, plus over a month's worth in packets. When I got to the pharmacy, I asked if I had refills on the 1% pump and they said yes and started filling the prescription. My insurance apparently thinks one box with two pumps is a 60 day supply (when it's actually a 120 day supply), so they won't let me fill the prescription for the higher dose until late August, after I move. I should be excited about starting the higher dose, but I'm actually really nervous. I feel like I have a good thing going here and don't want to fuck it up by increasing the dose. I can fill one and then have the other mailed to me in NYC but haven't yet decided which to fill first. I've had enough difficult decisions for one day so will deal with this one tomorrow.
Oh, also, I told my Ph.D. advisor-to-be that I'm transferring and he's happy for me! He didn't even ask me to terminate my contract. I feel badly about spending his start-up-money when he's not getting a Ph.D. student out of it, but he didn't take up my offer, and I could really use the cash right now. He had some advice about who I should work with, and I'm glad that it was advice I was already taking. He actually wanted me to get started with someone there right away, so that's what I'm going to try to do! I was actually drafting an e-mail for faculty at the new place before I heard back from my advisor, so that's a good sign that I'm not totally incompetent, right? Okay, actually going to sleep now.
I made a decision today. I'm going to get top surgery, and I'm going to try to do it this summer. I'm calling Fischer's office tomorrow morning to try to schedule it before the end of July. I made this decision in my bonus therapy appointment today. (Normally I go every two weeks, but I got an extra last week and this week because of the deadline I made for myself.)
Ultimately, I couldn't come up with any more reasons not to do it. I had a lot of reasons for and against it that were about external things: how others would react, money, timing, etc. I was focusing on those because they're simpler than the real issue of want vs. need. I want to wake up tomorrow without breasts, and I've felt that way almost* every day for half my life. I guess no one wants to go through the ordeal of surgery, nor risk losing support from the ones they love, nor give up their independence for a few weeks. Maybe there are even others who don't want to "become men," don't think binding is the worst thing ever, and could see themselves living without surgery. And I could argue that I need it because binding really is affecting my health. *I say almost because there were times when I was terribly desperate for attention from boys and felt like boobs were the only thing going for me. Once I got the attention I had sought, I realized why that made no fucking sense and developed a sense of self-worth that didn't depend on being objectified.
The last time I whined about wanting vs. needing top surgery, my therapist said, "Okay, so if you don't do it, you'll get out of the shower and like what you'll see in the mirror," and I apparently made the most horrified face imaginable before repeating the same old, "Yeah, but I could get through it like I have for years. . ." I trailed off when I realized how ridiculous I sounded. I don't need to just deal with it because I know how to. I've felt this way about my body for a long time, and I don't need to just tolerate it. I can't have what I really want, to have never grown the damn things to start with, and I can't wish them away (although I think I did pretty damn well in wishing them to a B from an F). But I can still have a body that would be more comfortable. I don't want to have to double-think my way into the bedroom. I don't want to avoid leaving home so I don't have to choose between impairing my breathing or advertizing my secondary sex characteristics.
I think Fischer's results with peri would make me happy. For the most part, her patients are really satisfied, and I think I'd be satisfied with what they've got, or, at least, I find myself feeling jealous of their results. I can accept the small risk of substantially decreased sensation because I do feel like this is the right thing to do. (Although, I also have a case of "but it won't happen to me" because four years after the previous chest surgery I had, I started regaining sensation that I thought was gone forever and now have almost as much on the side with a scar as on the side without one; basically, I think if I give it enough time to heal I have a good chance of regaining sensation, at least on the side that hasn't already taken damage.) I don't think I'll feel bitter if I get a complication (hematoma/seroma) that compromises the result; I'd consider getting a revision if there were moderate asymmetry or extra skin after a year. Basically, unless I get a life-threatening complication from the anesthesia, I don't think there's much of a way I'd regret this t all, and that's not likely because I've had surgery before without any issues on that end of things.
When I announced that I'd made a decision, my therapist yelled, "Finally!" She'd also said, "Oh, just get the damn surgery!" earlier in the session. I think she may have overstepped her bounds, but I also think I needed that. I'm the kind of person who can't pull off a band-aid, and even though I pay her, no one wants to listen to me talk about this for so many hours. Wait 'till I start to ramble about coming out to my mom before I move back home! My therapist said the letter would be ready tomorrow afternoon. It's been about 12 hours since then, and I haven't changed my mind yet. I think this is the longest I've stuck with a decision on the matter since I found out my insurance was going to change. We'll see how I am in the morning, but I have a good feeling about it.
I called my partner to tell him the news of my decision because I was worried he'd be sad that I decided to get rid of a body part he likes. He was happy because deciding under pressure was making me miserable and now that I've decided we can both move on with our lives (together). I hope he's right that he can stay with me even if my body isn't quite as attractive to him, because I bet I'd regret all kinds of things if I had to convince myself that I'd find love again. Right, so, I have some work to do now. . .
I also picked up my inhaler from the pharmacy today. My endo sent the script electronically because albuterol isn't a controlled substance, and I didn't see until today that I'm supposed to use it four times a day. My previous inhalers were either for emergency use only or twice a day, so either this is a different concentration or my asthma is way worse than it was before. Also, I used it and didn't feel immediate relief. I'm still coughing up mucus all damn day and apparently making a wheezing sound when I do it. I'm going to try to make an appointment with my GP just in case my endo was wrong about the congestion, since that's a problem I'm more familiar with. I guess I have trouble believing that the feeling of not having enough air in my lungs is caused by constricted airways rather than fluid build-up just because that's happened more to me over the past four years.
I chickened out on picking up my prescription for T. I have about a month's worth of 1% gel left in the pump, plus over a month's worth in packets. When I got to the pharmacy, I asked if I had refills on the 1% pump and they said yes and started filling the prescription. My insurance apparently thinks one box with two pumps is a 60 day supply (when it's actually a 120 day supply), so they won't let me fill the prescription for the higher dose until late August, after I move. I should be excited about starting the higher dose, but I'm actually really nervous. I feel like I have a good thing going here and don't want to fuck it up by increasing the dose. I can fill one and then have the other mailed to me in NYC but haven't yet decided which to fill first. I've had enough difficult decisions for one day so will deal with this one tomorrow.
Oh, also, I told my Ph.D. advisor-to-be that I'm transferring and he's happy for me! He didn't even ask me to terminate my contract. I feel badly about spending his start-up-money when he's not getting a Ph.D. student out of it, but he didn't take up my offer, and I could really use the cash right now. He had some advice about who I should work with, and I'm glad that it was advice I was already taking. He actually wanted me to get started with someone there right away, so that's what I'm going to try to do! I was actually drafting an e-mail for faculty at the new place before I heard back from my advisor, so that's a good sign that I'm not totally incompetent, right? Okay, actually going to sleep now.
