Part II: The Bad

Where we last left off, the protagonist of this-here story (i.e. yours truly) had just gotten a written referral to see an endocrinologist to hopefully get prescribed hormones. I called the office, made the appointment, and waited something like two looooonnnnng months in a feverish anticipation that was riddled with both fear and apprehension. Talk about a fun two months.

Now when I called the doctor's office, I told them that I was coming in hoping to get prescribed hormones and all of that. They gladly took the appointment and didn't say anything that would make me think that this was not the place to go. Well, it wasn't.

When I finally met the doctor, he asked me why I was there. I thought that a question like this would have been addressed by what I said when I made the appointment. Obviously I was mistaken.

What followed was me nervously stammering my way through an explanation of what I wanted to do. I was having these feelings; I wanted to try hormones to either confirm these feelings as being one thing... or another. When the doctor wasn't sure what I was asking for, even after a long explanation, I explained it again, and quite possibly even a third time.

Finally, the doctor understood. Here's what he said (again, paraphrasing a bit here):

"I think that this is a crime against nature, and it's not how you were meant to be. I don't know why anyone would do this to himself. What are you hoping to get out of this? You were born a male and you'll always be a male. How could you want to do this to yourself? This is very, very wrong."

And so on... and so on. This went on for an excruciating five minutes. Finally, I just said, "Okay, I get it," and started to get myself together to go. Then this braying jackass had the stupendous amount of gall to ask me:

"Would you like us to keep your information on file in case you decide to come back here for treatment?"

Ummm... what??

My response was:
"Look, you obviously have a problem with this, so why would I ever want to be treated for something by someone who has a problem with it?"

"Well," he answered, "we have prescribed hormones for people before."

"But you have a problem with it, so why would I want YOU to prescribe them for me? So I can come back here and have you tell me about your problems with what I'm doing? No thanks."

"We could still keep your information on file..."

"That won't be necessary."

"Are you sure?"

"Ummm... yeah, I'm pretty certain."

WTF!?

I walked out of there and I was FURIOUS. People have problems with this kind of stuff, and whatever, I sort of understand that. However, how could you, as a "professional", start laying into someone like this... and then have the sheer audacity to ask me if I want to come back for treatment? Seriously, what IS that??

I was actually shaking when I walked out of the office. I didn't even know what to do. I was mad that he acted that way towards me. I was also pretty mortified by the fact that I went there in a pretty iffy emotional state, baring something that was VERY difficult for me to talk about even under the best of circumstances, and then I was met with a lecture about how I was a "crime against nature."

This experience, needless to say, was nothing but BAD.



As a postscript:
On the way home I was so upset that I stopped off at a pay phone to call a friend (remember pay phones?). While talking to her, I actually just started to laugh about the whole situation. Then I just started to feel kind of bad for the doctor. He was so blinded by his own fear and ignorance that he never took time to even look at the situation from a different perspective, or to talk to me about it, or to talk to anyone about it. He just decided to think what he thought about it and be magnificently blind as to what was really going on.

But as nervous and scared as I was, I got through it. Even with his wondrously supportive words scraping every soft nerve in my brain, I got through it... AND I wound up laughing it off soon after it went down. It made me stronger. It made me less afraid. It made me want to do it more... though I wouldn't be prescribed hormones til some five years later.

One final note:
When I next went back to my primary doctor and related the story, she was aghast at the endocrinologist's behavior. "Even if he does have a personal problem with it, it was HIGHLY unprofessional for him to talk to you like that."

Yeah, I'll tend to agree with that assessment.
As I've said, my primary kinda rocks.

That's all I got tonight.
I hope all is well.