What a unexpectedly beautiful day, so clear up there that it feels like you could see all the way to the other end of the universe. I'm looking out the window of my front room, it's darker and quieter in here and darker and quieter in me thinking about how I will talk to my GP about getting referred to start transitioning, though I feel like I'm doing that all the time. I'm unsettled by it all, that the day should be so clear and so beautiful and I should feel so unsettled and disquieted by this. Am I taking steps forward or steps back, is this brave or is it copping out? I can't decide I need help to decide, this is why I am doing this. I feel impatient about some things like the idea of having top surgery, reticent about others like taking hormones. It's funny don't you think that I would feel less concerned about major surgery than an injection?
Walking down the street and it's like I am suddenly noticing men and women for the first time. How they walk differently, look around differently, hair, body parts, I feel like some sort of alien looking at humans for the first time. I my vision slightly tinged with panic, words running round and round in my head, how do I tell this stranger probably one of the most personal things in my life, something I haven't even dared to speak out loud for the last 20 years. How do I explain this, what if he doesn't believe me.
I sign into the doctors office it's one of those new touch screen sign in thingymajiggs, I haven't been in a GP surgery for almost 10 years, they have come along way in making sure the patients do the work, not so much with the waiting times though. I sign in and find myself hesitating over the question am I male or female, I don't know how to answer this question anymore. I know what I want to answer but I think of all the confusion and questions that will probably follow and I reluctantly touch the screen, I feel like a traitor and a fool all at the same time.
The screen says the doctors running -32 mins so I look around for something to occupy my time with reading but there is nothing. I sit there just me and the lady in the burka, who eventually gets up and after a confused exchange with the more pleasant but less than helpful receptionists she leaves the office. I am alone now in this waiting room, waiting for my name to skip across the moving LED panel and tell me to go to room 2, it's always room 2, I don't actually think there are any other rooms here. I sit there reading the moving adverts that tell me to go have a smear test or let the surgery know if I have changed my mobile number ( spelt mobil, should I tell them it's spelt wrong, I don't think they would care ) and wondering how am I going to explain this.
Eventually the sign beeps and tells me to go to room 2, I walk down the hallway and knock on the door. "Come in." Old habits die hard I've never been able to walk into a room with a closed door without knocking first. There he is, sitting at his cluttered desk, watching some sort of video on a computer screen I can't see and he is very careful to make sure I can't see it. It sounds like a movie of some sort and I find myself trying to work out what they are saying but he calls my attention back to the room and indicates he is impatient to get to the point. GP's they are all business no chit chat, in a way I am grateful for the conveyor belt approach as it means generally that as long as you are confident about what you want you get it, but it is still not easy to say the words and what words. He looks at me impatience growing in his face and I still sit there. I look at him, a tall man of African decent, his accent tells me he didn't grow up here, maybe a blessing I think. Round his neck glints a crucifix so tiny dangling there made even tinier by his huge neck but it may as well be the biggest thing in the room. The words still sticking, he coughs gently, his face is not angry, it is a mask of any emotion and yet it is gentleness I sense in him despite his unremarkable GP manner.
Deep breath, "OK, have you ever heard of the term Transgendered?" I look him dead in the eye, I dare you to scowl at me, dare you to rebuke me, dare you to throw these words back and send me out. He looks at me, still no expression of any real note I am impressed by his control. He nods and says he has and then taps some keys and says he must refer me to the Gender Clinic, I am taken aback by his reaction. I am not really sure what I was expecting, I feel embarrassed, deflated even, unsure of what to do next. He says he needs to have my full records first to see what I have had done and I tell him nothing I want to start the transition process and he says he can write me a referral letter to the Gender Clinic at Charing Cross Hospital and I can take it in myself.
I feel confused, "Can I do that?" He seems confused by my confusion and seems to think I can, so I say yes I can do that. He asks just to be sure "So you are a woman and you want to be a man." I look at him, I want to say a million and one things, I won't say the word man, I just say male, I nod and say yes. He asks "Is this something you have always felt or did something happen to bring it about?" I look confused, I'm sure, I think what possibly could happen to someone to make them suddenly wish to do this? I say no I have always identified as male. Again "So you are a woman and you want to be a man." I say well this body is female, I won't consent to calling myself a woman, I've never thought of myself that way and being asked outright, I realize I never have. "Have you had any difficulties in your life with this?" I almost laugh, if it wasn't for the fact that he seems completely sincere when he asks me these questions I would outright laugh in his face for them. I say well of course it is not easy living this way and mutter something about having to deal with depression because of it. I don't want to go into my long and sordid history, I don't think he wants to know either so I decide to save it for someone else, I'm not sure who but I don't think it's him.
He finishes typing out the letter of referral and prints it out, sticks it in an envelope and addresses it to the Gender Clinic, I watch him as he does this thinking he has nice handwriting, kind of artistic and it reminds me of my fathers handwriting. I can't seem to look at him anymore and just keep staring at the posters on the wall. He hands me the envelope and give a little smile saying there you go, a good smile one that's trying to say I am trying to look like I want to be kind and helpful to you. I say thanks and smile back, and for a moment I want to give him a hug and shake his hand and say what a great man he is for being so calm about it all, but then I think better of it and just walk away with my letter clutched tightly in my hand. Now what? I get home ring the number for the Gender Clinic but it is too late and the phone just rings and rings and rings. I will try tomorrow maybe.
I still feel unsettled though, like nothing is really set in motion by this, I take all my nervous energy and use it to clean the flat do loads of laundry and then go out and buy containers and organize my food cupboards. I feel like I should feel like something is set in motion, instead I feel like I tripped over my feet as the starting gun went off. I find myself being afraid that I am gong to get through to the clinic and they are going to tell me I've done it all wrong and I need to go back. If I do then I will no big deal so I don't know why that bothers me. I guess I feel like I should know what is going on that I should of left there with some sort of roadmap, you know like 6 months see Psychiatrist who will work out if you are crazy in the right way or not, 12 months change name legally, take T something like that, but then nothing works like that does it..
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