Friday (19th February) was the day for my VERY FIRST Charing Cross appointment in London. I had spoken previously about my transition, my journey, and how it fucked up at the last hurdle because I was thrown between two different funding bodies and neither wanted to pay up. I had gone through 2 years with one system, only to wait another 18 months so start another path way. And here it is. The big day.
First things first, have you ever tried to get a fucking train on a Friday, during half term holiday. I tend to avoid anything close to a commute during this time, but it was unavoidable.
No seating.
No fucking seating.
Downside of no seating. My joints lock up and I am stiff as hell until we can finally get a seat in priority seating, you know the place where people who are unable to stand, are allowed to sit. A family, is NOT priority. A group of loud teens on their way to party is NOT priority, unless of course you are entitled to sit there and in which case I’m sorry. I know what that’s like for people to assume you don’t need assistance because you look too young to have arthritis.
Plus side of no seating. Adorable child was fascinated with my hair, they started complimenting it in French and tried to grab me. Their parent was apologetic and said that they really loved my hair. I don’t know what it is, but kids have been all over me lately since I moved to sea blue hair.
Eventually we managed to get seating, which was a huge relief to my body. We were sat near a what could be described as the mist stuck up middle class family ever. I wouldn’t even call them out but when a homeless person came on the train and was trying to get money, they talked about her like shit. Like she was just an object with no feelings or emotions. It made me feel sick.
Other delightful family conversations included a joke about trans people. That there was a difference between male and female hair (it was the length apparently) and questioning why there would be airplanes at Gatwick Airport. Yes people, why would there be airplanes at an airport?! Gatwick is also in Southampton also.
Eventually we managed to get off the train and navigate ourselves round the underground, and on or way to a tube that took us to Barons Court. It was a closer stop to the hospital then the stop at Hammersmith. Also for travellers out there. Charing Cross tube station is no where near Charing Cross hospital. I haven’t made this mistake luckily, but I’m just alerting others.
We managed to get there early (for the safety of trans people I will never give the location of the gender clinic) and decided to grab lunch. During this time I made friends with a pigeon which I named Dave. I think it speaks volumes on a persons sanity that whilst they are chowing down on a sandwich they give a random bird a back story. As promised Dave here is your mention, you can run and tell your friends how famous you are.
We got back to the clinic and I was seen pretty quickly. I think I have a man crush on Dr. Lorimer. I had planned my blog post to be about how awful it was, and how badly I was treated as a queer trans person. But it was the fucking opposite.
He was one of the politest, kindest, hilarious doctors I have ever come across. From the moment I had stepped into his office my case had already been dealt with and everything I needed to discuss with him was just a formality. Questions were asked, and laughs were had.
So with a full heart I’m happy to announce, I’m officially signed off for top surgery. Surgeons are being contacted as you read this, and the first one to contact me out of my 3 choices is going to be the person who takes my tits off. I have been blessed that because of how I had been treated previously, and a plus side of me being in pain all the time now, is that its an urgent requirement that they are removed.
Because we had time spare, we decided to go to the British museum. It was interesting to be there.
Before anyone asks, no I didn’t donate money to go see it. Whilst they are beautiful artifacts that should be viewed, I still believe you shouldn’t give money to crime. Yes I said it. Britain fucking stole most of it, its even labeled on some of the artifacts. A part of me believes that if they gave Greece all their historical artifacts back they might not be in debt.
Eventually we headed home after a long day. Honestly it went so much better then I expected it to be. Things are finally starting to look up for me and eventually the two huge burdens that are in my life, will be gone soon. Till then, I have all the waiting to do, and I will be keeping everyone updated.
Tyler Charles Austen 