Getting Something Off My Chest

You know what’s hard? Asking for money, and asking for people to perceive me in the process. Asking for help? Not my strong suit. Asking friends for money? Hate it.

And yet, here we are.

After years of self-reflection, wondering why I always shied away from ‘girly’ things and cringed when someone called me “Ma’am,” I came to the slow realization that these things weren’t right for me. It took me a while to learn about gender beyond the binary, and even longer to consider that that could apply to me, and still longer to commit to doing something about it. Finally, all those feelings that I first remember experiencing at the tender age of three years old or so clicked into place!

Alex is still a good name. I only use the long version on official paperwork (and from the older generation of my family), and at some point I may change that. If you’ve called me Indigo in the past, I still am; it’s what I’ve called myself for over thirty years and what I’d go with if I changed it officially. I’m trying they/them, but it’s a struggle to remind myself. Not a fan of gender in general, I try to avoid it when I can.

After doing some searching locally, I found that while my insurance will cover top surgery, and there were a few plastic surgeons in town on my insurance who could do the procedure, none of them were able to take my insurance for it because… I am in the worst state (not forever, Florida). Sigh. I was quoted $6000 out of pocket by… a perfectly acceptable surgeon who would do a decent job, I’m sure.

After a few days of despair, pondering, and talking to friends who have had the surgery, I decided to look out of town. Farther out of town. My search led me to Dr. Scott Mosser at the Gender Confirmation Center in San Francisco. He has good results and he’s on my insurance (and he can actually take it). After consulting virtually with him, I’m going to have double incision top surgery. He also works based on informed consent, so while I did need a mental health professional’s letter to get insurance to cover it (thank you Planned Parenthood), I won’t have to jump through any other hoops. So I thought, why pay A Lot of money when I could get a really great surgeon who will do exactly what I want? I could make a lowkey vacation out of it and still pay Less Money! I’ll be arriving two days before surgery for a pre-op appointment the day before, then sticking around for about a week for a post-op appointment.

My surgery is scheduled for May 9th, which I chose because it would work well with my work schedule. The closer it gets the more excited I am about it though, so if I’m able to move it up I may do it sooner. …I’m also dealing with a foot issue, but that’s another matter.

Of course, insurance still demands that I pay a certain amount out of pocket before they’ll start picking up the bill. I’m great at finding cheap flights and lodging, but it’s still going to cost money. I’ll have to eat while I’m there too. When I get back I’ll need to have easy food and some recovery supplies at home. I have a great pet-sitter who I trust to take care of my crew while I’m away for 9 days (thank you Emily). And I’m very lucky to have found at least one friend to go with me and help me out (thank you Noelle)!

It’s rough living in our capitalist hellscape, and I know everyone’s having a hard time getting by right now. I don’t expect anyone to donate to me, but if you’re able to contribute anything I would be grateful. I’d also be glad to give you eggs (if you’re local), all the glass test tubes you could want, homemade cookies, strange things, bits of writing, Mothman stickers, my editing services, extreme budget travel advice, etc. in return if you’d like. I'd be happy to discuss or answer anything you're curious about.

Life’s going pretty well, in other news. I love working at Trader Joe’s, it’s my favorite job since camp. Doesn’t pay as well as my last couple of jobs, but I look forward to work, enjoy what I do, and love my coworkers. They’re fun and supportive, and I’m thriving (aside from my feet).

Peri is a little old man and he acts like it more and more, but he’s still enjoying his life and looks forward to walks and treats. He’s patient with the cats, who both adore him in their own ways. The chickens enjoy roaming the yard, digging up everything I plant, and baffling the neighbor’s feral cat colony.

I think about traveling, when plane ticket prices drop. I think about moving north again, when Peri’s gone.

I think about you. I’m glad you’re here.

Thanks for reading, and make sure you’re taking time for yourself.

Drink water, take a buddy!