A few weeks ago I didn't get much sleep.
Was I perhaps over-caffeinated or maybe having an all-night movie marathon?
Sadly, no.
I was in intense pain. Intense abdominal pain.
I laid in bed hopelessly trying to find a comfortable position while I wondered if I was dying. The pain had started that morning - just an occasional twinge of discomfort. I'm no stranger to a certain amount of gastrointestinal distress and I was able to ignore it and carry on. Once I laid down for bed, the pain got worse - but I somehow managed to drift off to sleep. One hour and three minutes later (yep. check my Fitbit sleep tracker) I was woken up by more pain. The aforementioned intense abdominal pain. Eventually, I got out of bed to spend some quality time in the bathroom - hoping my digestive system would figure things out.
It did not.
As dawn broke I still didn't know what was going on, and the pain was starting to make me dizzy and nauseous. We (my wife and I) decided to get dressed and head out to the Urgent Care clinic. There was a certain amount of sitting on the bed sobbing while worrying that something was seriously wrong with me (I was doing the sobbing - not my wife - she was level-headed and wonderfully understanding about the whole thing). The car ride to Urgent Care was hell - bumps in the road made my abdomen pain spike - and I was worried I would have to befoul my favorite baseball cap (if I had to use it as a barf bag). Ug.
It's true what they say about 'the waiting being the hardest part.' The waiting at the Urgent Care clinic, to be precise. Waiting to check in, waiting to be called back, and waiting to see the doctor (or, in my case, physicians assistant). By this point I was pretty sure something was seriously wrong, and my wife had to help me tell the the physicians assistant (PA) what was wrong because I kept choking up. Going to any medical professional as a transgender person usually involves some nervousness about how one will be treated and gendered. The PA was great about asking me my preferred name and properly gendering me (I think the nurse gave her a warning). Next came urine and blood tests followed by poking, prodding, and lots of questions. Because of my hormone replacement therapy I'm at a greater risk for blood clots - a scary possibility - but a blood test ruled that out. All the other tests looked good - so the PA thought it could be something as simple as bad acid-reflux. She had me drink a horrid gastrointestinal cocktail: Maalox and viscous lidocaine. This thick concoction made my mouth and throat numb - an unpleasant sensation. The point of this was to see if the pain lessened. If it did, that suggested acid-reflux.
It's true what they say about 'the waiting being the hardest part.' The waiting at the Urgent Care clinic, to be precise. Waiting to check in, waiting to be called back, and waiting to see the doctor (or, in my case, physicians assistant). By this point I was pretty sure something was seriously wrong, and my wife had to help me tell the the physicians assistant (PA) what was wrong because I kept choking up. Going to any medical professional as a transgender person usually involves some nervousness about how one will be treated and gendered. The PA was great about asking me my preferred name and properly gendering me (I think the nurse gave her a warning). Next came urine and blood tests followed by poking, prodding, and lots of questions. Because of my hormone replacement therapy I'm at a greater risk for blood clots - a scary possibility - but a blood test ruled that out. All the other tests looked good - so the PA thought it could be something as simple as bad acid-reflux. She had me drink a horrid gastrointestinal cocktail: Maalox and viscous lidocaine. This thick concoction made my mouth and throat numb - an unpleasant sensation. The point of this was to see if the pain lessened. If it did, that suggested acid-reflux.
It did not.
I was discharged from Urgent Care and sent off to the Emergency Room.
I was still in intense pain at this point. The PA did give me some anti-nausea medication - so at least I didn't have to worry about destroying my favorite hat on the drive to the ER. My wife dropped me off at the door and went to find parking. I dazedly went in and passed through the security station. Check-in was surprisingly easy and straightforward (the Urgent Care clinic had called ahead for me, I think). Getting my vitals taken and basic questions asked was easy, and pretty nonjudgmental. I apparently have a 'scared baby bunny eyes' expression I do when I'm extremely worried, and I think it helps others feel a certain compassion towards me. Thankfully, my pain level seemed to be slightly less by this point - although still strong enough to worry me. After being sent back out to the waiting room (where I joined my wife), I was called back again to give blood (really, have blood taken). While I don't like needles, I was totally supportive of the need to run blood tests. However, to my horror, the nurse wanted to put in an arm IV (intravenous) just in case I eventually required any injections. Cue the 'scared baby bunny eyes' expression - directed with all its force at my poor wife (the nurse was busy not looking at me). After she had it in I was sent back out to the waiting room for... the next 5 hours.
While the wait wasn't fun - it did give the pain in my abdomen time to fade somewhat and be replaced by the discomfort of having a couple of inches of flexible needle in my arm. And, although the hospital will never admit it, we think there was some confusion surrounding me that might have added to the wait (possibly regarding gender expression or a lost urine sample - long story). For example, after a couple of hours, we were approached by a male nurse looking slightly concerned. He asked me how I was doing, then what my name was. After finding me on his clipboard, he became extremely confused and a bit uncomfortable - apologizing for misgendering me. He apologized for thinking I was female (mentioning my long hair). It seems I was listed as male on his paperwork - and I had to explain that I was transgender and that he was correct in using female pronouns. While it wasn't an overly unpleasant experience (the nurse was confused, but respectful) - I was hopeful the same medical institution that diagnosed me with 'gender identity disorder' and helped me begin hormone replacement therapy would have some kind of note on my record of my preferred gender. The same problem occurred later - a (different) nurse was looking for me, and, not knowing I was female, had some trouble finding me - going so far as to consult the original nurse. Fun.
Eventually (and to the great satisfaction of my better half), I was called back to an examination room. After a short wait, a PA and nurse came in to see me. By this point, the waiting room had cured me (more or less) of the worst of my pain - but I still wanted to find out what the experts had to say. The PA was friendly, but initially misgendered me until my wife asked a question and referred to me as 'she'. The PA looked confused. He then looked at my chart to ensure he had the correct gender (yes, it says 'male' on my medical chart). I explained that I was transgender (for the third time today) and he was apologetic about misgendering me. The three of us chatted for a while about the gender markers in medical files - and how/if they could be changed. He made the point that male and female anatomy was different enough (particularly for my abdominal pain complaint) that it was important to know if a patient had female or male parts so as to treat the potential medial issue appropriately. Because of this, he said, it was important to have the 'correct biological gender' listed in the medical file. While I understand this from a logical point of view - being misgendered is still no fun (ask any transgender or gender nonconforming person).
As I wrote earlier, the first PA I saw at the Urgent Care Clinic came into the examination room and immediately asked me my preferred name and properly gendered me (and I'm sure she saw the 'male' gender marker in my file). It seems like a little thing - but it meant a lot to me at the time. The last thing I needed (while battling pain) was to be explaining to everyone how I was a transgender female. Though, I really can't find too much fault with the staff at the emergency room - they took care of me, and were respectful of my status (granted, after a somewhat bumpy start). I try to be generally easy-going when I'm misgendered - but it's the kind of thing that wears you down. Each time it happens it adds a little to the camel's back that is my anxiety. The Anxiety Camel?
Back to my story. My blood work had been reviewed by the PA and he did a brief physical exam. My pain was lessened enough by this point that I was released by the PA (after some graphic discussion about the digestive system - which I will spare you). For a week or so afterwards, I was still in a certain amount of discomfort (although obviously, and much to my delight, I did not die).
I'm sorry I don't have a more exciting conclusion to my Emergency Room visit (but a boring conclusion to any ER visit is probably the best to hope for).
Or how about this:
"I was strapped onto a gurney being wheeled down the hospital corridor towards the lab where they would perform a CT (computerized tomography) scan on my abdomen. Suddenly, and much to the horror of the nurse pushing my gurney, a viscous, toothy alien creature clawed its way out of the remains of my large intestine and proceeded to wipe out everyone in the hospital..."
OK, really... Transgender (and other gender nonconforming) people sometimes have to deal with a lot of confusion and misgendering - but it would be great if that didn't have to happen in the medical establishment. How about a 'Preferred Gender Identity' line in the medical file?
Yes, yes I think that would be great.
The moral of the story is 'try and properly gender people (ask if unsure) or the aliens will get you.'
...and drink lots of water.
...and drink lots of water.
-Lia
Contact Me
My Writings (Transgender Woodworker content)
Artfully Functional (my studio)
LiaZero.com (all my online content)
My Writings (Transgender Woodworker content)
Artfully Functional (my studio)
LiaZero.com (all my online content)