The Transgender Drive-Up Window

| Apr 30, 2018
The Artist D

The Artist D

I like to think I live in Big City, USA. There are tons of people jamming the highways and byways. You can get anything you want 24 hours each day and just about seven days out of every week! Sometimes it takes two hours to get down the road thanks to all of the people who also want to get down the road. I’m told by visitors though that my city still moves, unlike their city. And that’s true! Even when we’re crawling, we’re still moving.

I’ve been calling around lately to get my friend into a doctor to start the process of gender reassignment surgery. I was provided a Big List from the local LGBTQ Center. I started at the top to find that the top rated place considers themselves a small clinic and are only open three days per week. Of course they’re open when my friend is tied up at work trying to support Their Family.

“I’m sorry, we don’t DO that.” Said the endocrinologists. “You don’t DO what?” I asked. “Transgendereds,” they responded. I reminded them that “transgendereds” isn’t exactly a word and politely hung up the phone.

I called gender reassignment surgeons and they told me to seek a general practitioner first. I explained the reason I was calling was to see if they had any suggestions. “Oh, anyone will help you out there . . .”

So, I called my general practitioner and the receptionist said, “Golly gee, I’ve never been asked THAT before. Is this for YOU!?” No it’s not for me. But what if it were?

What if it were, indeed. I began to get cranky as I paced the sidewalks making all of these calls inside of Big City, USA. I thought about my own path and how once upon a time I too wanted the same hormones and the same surgery. I took a different path and through several forks in my road I suddenly found myself not as transgender as I had thought I was. But what if I were?

I became angry at all of the dumb receptionists and blunt answers hearing how they don’t DO that. They don’t DO trannies. Sorry! Come back and check in with society in ten more years. This was supposed to be easy! After all, it’s the 21st Century and switching out a penis for a vagina should be like going from brown to blonde. There should be help groups expanding like wildfire. There should be E-Z TRANSGENDER GUIDES popping up in brochure boxes and added to gas station telephone books.

Big City, USA wasn’t big enough after all. It’s no Los Angeles and it’s no New York City, but I thought wherever an abundance of concrete was poured they had advanced beyond the hay fields of Bubkiss, USA.

Anger. Frustration. For my transgender friend. For my transgender spouse. For all of my transgender acquaintances. For the transgender child I once was. For everyone seeking a simple process. Just a few adjustments to the meat suitcase we’re all trapped inside of.

By the way, my general practitioner’s receptionist had me on hold for ten minutes while they figured out if they “did that.” They came back on and told me that they’d see me, but would refer out to an endocrinologist. I wondered if that was the same endocrinologists who don’t treat transgendereds.

I guess you could say it’s easier than ever to figure this stuff out and get to the people you need. It’s out there and it’s available. But that’s just a start and that means it’s not easy enough. You’ve got to weed out all of the rubbish to figure out how you are going to make this work. The systems have advanced but are gunked up and broken.

We found a clinic after two months of trying to get through a constant busy phone line. They do what they need to do, but it’s a struggle only being open three days a week and that’s also due to a similar run of difficulties.

I shouldn’t be surprised. I can hardly get a doctor to touch me during a check up let alone actually tell me what’s wrong. It all disappoints me more than most think it should. I feel a great melancholy for not only us in Big City, USA, but for Betty Beercan in Trailer Town, USA. How the hell is she finding the professional medical attention for her transgender needs?

I’ve been fooled about it all! I thought by now everything would be as easy as ordering an Uber or getting Chinese Food delivered. Everything should be that easy by the year 2018.

“Yes, I’d like one vagina, a set of double D’s and a whole lot of estrogen! See you in 15 minutes . . .”

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Category: Body & Soul, Opinion

About the Author ()

The Artist D is a true raconteur and provocateur! He has been performing online since the mid 1990s. A relic from the cam show age before MySpace was any space. Author of In Bed with Myself, an autobiographical tale of transgenderism and Internet celebrity. Executive Editor of Fourculture Magazine and host of The Artist D's Fabulous Show. Panelist and commentator on Fourthought, a weekly live stream.

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