My old endocrinologist's nurse, for some reason, told me after my last exam that he "didn't want to see me anymore." Huh....k. However, he continued to prescribe for me. Huh....k. I didn't know what to say to that. After a good number of months went by and several refills, and feeling like I've been flying blind, hormonally speaking, and that my dosage was low by most standards anyway, I decided to find a new doctor. That's quite a challenge in San Diego, as their really aren't that many doctors who have experience dealing with transition and who are also covered by my insurance (which is quite good). But, I found one.

Gee, I don't know why, but my insurance list of doctors just doesn't include "experienced with transsexual hormone treatment" on their list of specialties. So, I just started calling down the list, asking them the questions. I finally got to Dr. First, who has many years of experience and is with Sharp, and his nurse took the call. She said she didn't know for sure, but she said the doctor was standing right there, so she asked him. I could here him in the backround say, "Oh sure!" He sounded confident and like it wasn't something he would have to look up in a book. His nurse said he would take good care of me and proceeded to schedule me in for OCTOBER! She reassured me that after the first meeting, it wouldn't take as long to see him. I offered to come in any time he had a cancellation, even if they call me within a couple hour's notice. She brightened and said she'd put me on the list. I put it on my calendar and didn't give it another thought, until 3 days ago.

I got a phone call 3 days ago from some doctor's office. "Who?" "You have an appointment with Dr. First....for your hormones." "OOOHHHH! Yes, Yes!" "We have an openning at 1:00, can you make it? It was 10 am. "Yes, of course! Thank you!" I was at work at the Mira Mesa office, and I still had to go to my office 10 miles away before I could go home and change to go to the doctor. Shoot, and I needed a shower too. I finished up and jetted out of there.

I got home at 11:30. Plenty of time! We're getting the Arizona monsoon mugginess drifting over the mountains, so it was hot and humid. I showered and tried to dry and curl my hair...impossible. The shower steam and humidity turned the bathroom into the Brazillian rainforest. Imagine trying to style your hair and put on makeup in the Brazillian jungle. I opted for minimalist make-up, just brows, a touch of pink on the cheeks, and lip gloss. It wasn't a date; I'm meeting a prospective doctor, for goodness sake. The only presentable slacks I had were gray wool; skirts...forget it. No nylons! And shorts would have been tacky. A white bra and white cotton top were just fine. But, oh....wool...what was I thinking. My new black half boot high heals were sharp, but just a tad tall for my taste. Oh well, gotta go, gotta go.

I turned the air conditioner on full and hoped to blow my hair a bit drier in the car. Horrid, but whatever. I didn't look bad, but I wasn't going to win any beauty contests. Thankful for OnStar, I found the office without delay, gathered myself up, made one last look in the mirror, rolling my eyes, and put my chin up and walked into the building. His office is on the ground floor, the first door. I walked in and announced that I was there for my 1:00 o'clock appt.

"Please sign in." She looked on her schedule and looked at me with a puzzled look. "Paul?" Deep sigh. "My friends call me Bren." "Oh, yes, I'm sorry, I remember talking to you." She gave me the obligatory clipboard to fill out all the forms. After that, none of his staff, nor the doctor ever called me Paul again, which I appreciated. It can be annoying if you go to a doctor and they come out to get you and they use the "wrong" name very loudly and you're sitting there in your skirt or whatnot and you don't want to stand up and acknowledge that, yes, I'm the person you are using that male name to refer to.

I didn't wait long. I barely finished my medical history when they called out, "Bren?" Ahh...how nice. The nurse took my vitals, weighed me (which I hate) and then took me to the lab. "Oh...you're taking my blood today?" "Yes, of course. We have our own lab. We need it to check your hormone levels and run your panels." Well, how nice. My other doctor always sent me out to another lab. The young nurse apparently missed my good vein and had to try the other arm. Oh well, at least it didn't hurt. But, I still look away...when I see my own blood squirt out into that tube I faint. I don't know why. The other nurse came in and say, "He wants to see her now." How nice....she said "her". They had been quite nice and chatty with me.

I was escorted toward Dr. First's office. He's a dapper looking man with wavy gray hair brushed back. I don't know his ethnicity, but I detected a slight European accent, I believed. We had a nice chat about my past, and why I was leaving my previous doctor. He obviously knew him, and he is indeed a good doctor. We both shrugged at the misstep of his office, perhaps and he went on. He finished my history matter of factly and asked me to step into one of his exam rooms and to strip to the waist and put on the ubiquitous paper gown. I never can tell if the open side goes in front or in back. It looked like a wrap-around top to me, so I put it on that way. I knocked and came in without making me wait. His exam was thorough. He asked me to put my arm up and he felt my chest on the left side, and I squeeled. "Something wrong?" "It TICKLES!" "He smiled and said, tickles is ok...pain is not." It was over quickly and he said I checked out. That the most important data would come from the blood work.

After dressing again...darn why did I pick the blouse with all the clips up the front? I went to front to pay my co-pay, and the young nurse came out to get me again. "There's just not enough blood. I'm sorry, but we need you again."

Ok...so, his blood nurse needs work. His first string nurse came in and helped. She got me in the right vein this time...I could have pointed out the right one if they asked, and they got their viol. I exited again and the doctor said he would call me when the results came in. Wow....the doctor himself would call me...how refreshing.

So, I am waiting for my results. It will be interesting, as it's been over a year since I've been tested and going on my 5th year of estro/spiro.

Imagine the hords of mummies in the mummy army storming your castle walls...only they're mummy trannies. I gave my spouse a deep belly laugh over that one this morning. I gotta watch what I eat late at night or something. I had one even worse last night...feeding people from the company fried Calamari...only...it wasn't squid...it was leftover "Bren" parts. You can fill in the rest. EEEEEeeewwwww. Some of the guys really freaked when they found out. Wouldn't you?

Lexapro...does wonders for your dreams.

My boss is awesome. Not everyone can say that. I couldn't say it either 2 years ago prior to the departure of my old boss. I was fretting then after he found out about me being trans. He was neither supportive nor understanding, but instituted a new dress code that I think was specifically targetted at me. But, as things went, he wasn't attracting and keeping enough good people, and the higher-ups apparently were making it clear that his days as a general agent were numbered. So, rather than suffering the indignity of being demoted or let go, he took his vested pension and found a new deal with a company that thought he was the cat's meow.

It took 2 years before they hired someone new. And by then I was the remaining lone wolf in the office being supported by VPs from the home office. Oddly enough, my sales went up. Eventually they attached me to Los Angeles and then brought in a new sales manager over San Diego. His goal, however, is to be the new GA of San Diego, not a mere sales manager.

The significance of this is that because of some things that may have been said about me innocently, but nevertheless were gender-related, I chose to reveal my situation to him. My custom has been to go to work pretty well disguised...sports bra, tight t-shirt, loose men's cotton dress shirt, hair plastered back and down, no earrings in my pierced ears, no make-up, and using my best guy voice that I can still muster. Well, "she" has been showing more and I guess after 5 years of hormones, I just can't act like a good old boy as much as I used to be able to. (It's funny, the range of emotion and vocal inflection for a straight male is in a narrow box. Stray outside it and you start getting those dog-with-a-sideways-head inquisitive looks.

Well, he's been amazingly supportive. Recently, he told me "stop worrying about everybody else. You need to be who you are. I'll take care of the office, if anyone has a problem with you. That's my job." He asked me to make a financial plan (what I do) outlining all my expenses that I will need, and then design a sales plan that will get me there.

I met with my therapist yesterday...told her more or less that it feels like I'm on that street in San Francisco that has all the coordinated lights...and they're all turning green in front of me. The path to full-time is just a matter of money now and despite the economy (or because of it) my sales are strong and improving. I can do this. I'm scared, but it seems after years of circling the airport, I'm finally lining up for approach. (I'm in the airport waiting for a Southwest flight to a business meeting).

Bren

My boss is awesome. Not everyone can say that. I couldn't say it either 2 years ago prior to the departure of my old boss. I was fretting then after he found out about me being trans. He was neither supportive nor understanding, but instituted a new dress code that I think was specifically targetted at me. But, as things went, he wasn't attracting and keeping enough good people, and the higher-ups apparently were making it clear that his days as a general agent were numbered. So, rather than suffering the indignity of being demoted or let go, he took his vested pension and found a new deal with a company that thought he was the cat's meow.

It took 2 years before they hired someone new. And by then I was the remaining lone wolf in the office being supported by VPs from the home office. Oddly enough, my sales went up. Eventually they attached me to Los Angeles and then brought in a new sales manager over San Diego. His goal, however, is to be the new GA of San Diego, not a mere sales manager.

The significance of this is that because of some things that may have been said about me innocently, but nevertheless were gender-related, I chose to reveal my situation to him. My custom has been to go to work pretty well disguised...sports bra, tight t-shirt, loose men's cotton dress shirt, hair plastered back and down, no earrings in my pierced ears, no make-up, and using my best guy voice that I can still muster. Well, "she" has been showing more and I guess after 5 years of hormones, I just can't act like a good old boy as much as I used to be able to. (It's funny, the range of emotion and vocal inflection for a straight male is in a narrow box. Stray outside it and you start getting those dog-with-a-sideways-head inquisitive looks.

Well, he's been amazingly supportive. Recently, he told me "stop worrying about everybody else. You need to be who you are. I'll take care of the office, if anyone has a problem with you. That's my job." He asked me to make a financial plan (what I do) outlining all my expenses that I will need, and then design a sales plan that will get me there.

I met with my therapist yesterday...told her more or less that it feels like I'm on that street in San Francisco that has all the coordinated lights...and they're all turning green in front of me. The path to full-time is just a matter of money now and despite the economy (or because of it) my sales are strong and improving. I can do this. I'm scared, but it seems after years of circling the airport, I'm finally lining up for approach. (I'm in the airport waiting for a Southwest flight to a business meeting).

Bren