Help Zena Afford Gender Affirming Care

Hello! My name is Transgender Menace, a.k.a. Zena.

Over the past 3 years, I have had to put off all of my life goals, art, education, and trans-affirming care. The reason for this rapid deterioration in my life is colon cancer. I was diagnosed with stage 3c colon cancer in September of 2023, when my father brought me into the hospital barely conscious. I had been living on my own and simply dealing with the daily screaming pain I experienced while trying to study and make art. Whilst this was going on, I was also losing around a half pint of blood on a daily basis due to the untreated tumor in my large intestine.

When I arrived at the hospital, it was discovered I only had 4 units of blood in my body. Apparently, the doctors and nurses were surprised I was even awake, but they immediately put me in the emergency wing, where I waited for the longest hour of my life, or so I thought.

Over the course of a few days and procedures, I was informed that I had colon cancer and that it was nearing stage 4. They would need to prep me and operate as soon as possible, or it was very likely I would die. I was devastated and felt my heart sink down into the depths of my being. I went cold. After thinking it over, I said yes to the operation, which would involve cutting directly through my abdominal tissue and removing a section of my intestine.

In the hazy hours after my procedure, I experienced the worst pain I've ever gone through in my life. For days, then weeks, even after discharge from the hospital, I went through agonizing recovery and daily walks to make sure I would have full range of motion return in time. I began chemotherapy after I had fully recovered from my surgery, but my trials were far from over. I had a second tumor growing inside me.

Luckily, if you can call it luck, it wasn't touching anything vital but was extremely close to doing so. I went through months of chemo, then immunotherapy to shrink the tumor down to a size where it would be removable without impacting my vital organs and tissue. I spent my days in a fugue, drifting in and out of dissociation, medicine ball hooked up to the port under my neck, hoping beyond all that I would make it through without having a bag installed in me or worse.

Eventually, the tumor stopped responding to treatment, but it had shrunk enough to operate on safely. I was overjoyed and overwhelmed with fear at recovering from yet another abdominal surgery, and this time an even larger incision would have to be made. I went through with it again, and the recovery was just as excruciating, though I was more prepared for the pain this time. After months more of recovery, I finally got fully cleared, staples removed, and I could return to daily life, or what was left of it. I still couldn't find a job, could barely walk half a mile, and had no idea what I was going to do now with medical debt having piled up.

I applied for disability for the third time, an appeal, and got lucky again. I was granted a small amount of disability support, which along with my food benefits, allowed me to pay for my essentials and a few thrifted books here and there. I was still determined to study and go to grad school. In the back of my mind, something still gnawed at me. Something I couldn't hide from and that wasn't covered by cloth in the daytime. My face, my hair, my overall appearance had taken a hit from being on and off hormones for so long, combined with my now dysfunctional thyroid, deep post-operative depression, and crippling dysphoria, brought me to a new low.

After a few months out from initial recovery, I'm working on building back up my endurance and physical mobility. Painting and socializing with other queer folk and tabletop gamers, and connecting with other queer disabled people has been a lifesaver. Though I'm struggling to pick the pieces of my life back up, I'm going onward, head held high. One thing remains that I can't address on my own, that can't be covered by insurance. FFS, Facial Feminization Surgery, and Hair Restoration. I want to feel the wind in my hair again and to look in the mirror every day without feeling the thought of suicide creeping closer.

If you could, please donate to my fund for Gender Affirming Care, even a dollar helps. Thank you so much for reading my story all the way through. And if you have donated or decide to, I am forever grateful for your support. Live in hope and solidarity, thank you.

-- Zena