RH BlogE. Daniel Maroon on June 7, 2007 - 8:30am
The receptionist looks up at me and knows who I am, and why I'm here late, for surely there aren't many men who come to the gynecologist's office. It's roughly six o'clock. I sign in and don't even have to sit down before the nurse is at the door, ready to do my intake. She smiles and I walk behind her to the small examination room, pictures of faraway beaches in my sight, hanging on the wall across from the cushy exam table.
She takes my history—current age, why I'm here today, how long I've been taking testosterone, what changes I've had since I started hormone therapy.
