Anything interesting happen to you on this day, Cassidy?
Why, I’m glad you asked…
7 July, 2014, I headed out to Sterling, NJ, to see a doctor. Actually, I was seeing her for the second time in two weeks because I’d had an initial consultation with her at the end of June. This time I wasn’t going back for a check up, or for another consultation, or to even discuss possible medical options.
I was going there to get a shot.
As many of you know, during May of 2014 I decided to take a big step in my transition and get on the Estradiol train. As Kerry can now tell you, Estradiol is the primary hormone found in that soup known as estrogen and it’s the most powerful of the lot. You start taking that and before you know it, your body starts heading off down Girl Street. And that was where I wanted to head, so the time came that in order to go that way I had to find a doctor. Which I did. In New Jersey.
And three years ago today I received my first injection.
It was really kind of interesting to watch her, my doctor, go through the steps I’d need to follow in order to inject myself in the leg. I watched, I learned, and I sat there while I got the needle in the leg. It was a life changing experience, it really was, and I was in sort of a daze all the way on the two-hour drive back to Harrisburg.
And since some of you don’t remember what I was like back there, here’s a reminder.
Yep, that was me right after I returned home, fraying wig, old glasses, and bushy eyebrows to complete the look. At this point in my life I was still going to work as “that other guy” and the next day I dressed like the person I used to pretend I was and headed off to work.
Only I was a little different. And I’d get more different every day.
Two weeks later I had to return to my doctor’s office for another injection, only this time I was required to do the injection. Which I did. My doctor told me at the time that she expected me to get it right the first time because she knew I would. I’m glad I didn’t let her down.
And that brings me to this point in time. Three years later, I’m pretty happy with myself. I’ve worked on a political campaign, I’ve marched against the Orange Menace, I’ve gotten more left and aware, and I’ve joined roller derby. Oh, and I’m still writing after all these years.
Plus, I certainly look a lot better now than I did three years ago.
I don’t know what’s ahead. Three years from now I’ll be 63 and likely doing much of the same things I’m doing now. Maybe I’ll be published by then–maybe not. Maybe I’ll have competed in a derby game–maybe not. Maybe I won’t even be here–maybe not.
I don’t know: I’m not Deanna so I can’t see the future. All I can do is live from one moment to the next and hope for the best.
And when my fourth anniversary rolls around I’ll talk about it and shoot another picture of myself, just so I know what I look like.