• Jan 19, 2024
It is just a flat tire
As humans, we are wired for problems. We are looking for different ways to solve a problem, or plan for a problem and how we would solve it. We plan for problems and build solutions when it has never happened before, and the probability of it happening is less than 1%.
It is unrealistic to think everything goes exactly as planned all the time. But it does the majority of the time. The real test is when something happens no one was expecting.
That type of event usually revolves around something catastrophic, like an earthquake or plane crash or something of a similar scale. The obvious death of a loved one.
But what about that event which is the last physical procedure to complete your gender identity journey? Those who have no idea what gender dysphoria is or the level of emotional buildup – the excitement – just cannot understand. Here I am, at the point where the marvels of modern medicine are going to alter my body to align to my gender. So much social anxiety goes away. I don’t need to be afraid of swimming; going to a pool or gym; of the politics that creates fear, usually within the transgender person more than anything else.
“Ms. Hare, I am sorry, but there is a water problem at the hospital, and we have to cancel your surgery tomorrow. We don’t have a rescheduled date yet.”
I had to give the phone to my fiancée. Everything after those words was unintelligible.
I consider myself to be largely over my gender dysphoria. I don’t have a problem being recognized as a woman in my daily activities, even with my vibrant pink hair which makes me such a visible focus.
My severe disappointment with this news isn’t related to only gender dysphoria, and the delay of having my body finally match. It isn’t just the body dysmorphia over having specific body parts removed. It is about knowing there are things that are uncomfortable because they are dangerous for transgender women: changing rooms, pools, around children in restrooms (a place I conquered long ago). It is about the fear I could get called out by someone in a state which is unfriendly to the transgender community.
“So, move Eden.”
I could move. I like it here. I don’t have a lot of ties that keep me where I am in Texas, but there are some that are important pillars to my support system. I am not ready for those changes yet.
But back to the point.
It took what felt like forever, but was likely only 90 minutes, to find out there was an offer to do part of the procedure, which was then removed but the other facility, and then just a new date 21 days in the future.
Okay, as I write this, I got my surgery date 163 days ago. I have already been through the 21-day countdown. I can do it again.
But no one thinks about the logistics behind planning a surgery in a different city where you will be off work for 8-12 weeks. It is working with your employer to plan this leave, getting it approved, getting it approved for Family Medical Leave (FMLA), which in the United States is a form of protected leave where your job cannot be impacted. Getting Short Term Disability set up, so you have some income during your time off.
Finding a place to stay in another city. Finding the caregiver who is going to stay with you and help you as you can’t drive, can barely sit, or do much else but lie in a bed for weeks. Packing everything you need for yourself, your recovery, your caregivers, your kids, pets, or whomever will be there with you.
This isn’t show up at a hospital, have surgery, and go home three days later and largely able to resume some significant aspects of life. This is invasive enough to need someone to help to lift you in bed to sit, to stand, to get dressed, to change your bandages, drive you, feed the kids and pets, do the laundry.
Now I have to go back to work and reset everything so it can all happen again in three weeks.
I planned for the obvious disaster; if I didn’t make it out of surgery, and that was bad enough.
I didn’t plan for surgery getting postponed.
The emotional buildup to this is what pours out sometime later. For me, I had to immediately start packing; I had to focus the pain I was feeling into something that was somewhat constructive. Before the devastating sense of loss hit.
My name is Eden. I am a woman who is transgender. My final surgeries have been postponed. It feels like the end of the world.
It is just a flat tire.
21 days.