My worldview/life philosophy forbids versions of "things couldn't get worse," because they always can. So I won't say it.
But it has been an awful past six days. The good was far outweighed by the bad.
I attended a consultation session for laser hair removal on my body. When the form said "I consider my gender to be:" I decided to go all-in on disclosure as Jennifer as much as I could. I had to anyway, since a list of medications was needed. ("Reason: gender transition")
The doctor couldn't have been nicer. Seeing what I'd put on the form answered the question of "why" and she went right to "Do you want to have bottom surgery?"
She went through the company's official spiel. When I said I'd spent 30 appointments and thousands of dollars on my face, she explained (what I presume to be) a disappointing truth: The place I'd been going had a laser, but it wasn't real medical laser hair removal, and that one only required six months for certification (that is, my words here, I'd been going to maybe half a step above a fly-by-night operation).
But this company demands full payment for an unlimited number of sessions, rather than a fixed cost per, in a set number of months. It's literally all or nothing. My SSN and income were plugged into a black-box-website that said I did not qualify for the extended-pay plan nor a loan (at an interest rate that would kill me anyway).
The "good news" is there's a lifetime cost maximum - $10,000. This would be a more enticing figure if 1) I had not sunk nearly half that into my face already and 2) their payment plan demands all payments in an 18-month period. So I could do part of the body, but still have to pay that cost over 18 months.
I broke down in tears when I saw the full cost. But of course I'm desperate. I could start with the torso and work toward everything else. Looking at the rates, the monthly special brings it down to paying for a used car rather than a new one.
Days later, I made a call to another place, and again when I said I'd had 30 appointments on the face, the person on the other end of the line audibly gasped. But this place, while offering per-session payments, in the long run might not be as cost-effective as doing chunks of the body over a very long time toward a lifetime max. And in my state, none of this counts as "medically necessary".
Just saying the words "Hello" and "Speaking" got me sir'd on the phone.
Then I got more work schedules. Remember how I've said that I'm in a (concert) band and they are completely cool with my femme self? Well, with the new schedules, I can't go to band practice. An analysis of my past year and a half of schedules shows a distinct change in a co-worker's schedule last November that may mean I can't count on Mondays off which would mean I can't be in band anymore.
I called my parents wanting to cry about this, but it ended up an hour of yelling because Mom's opinion is that my choice boils down to either "work Mondays" or "be unemployed". They didn't understand I can't ask for days off more than a month in advance, and were not sympathetic that I am spending more days (but not hours) at work than some co-workers. So I called a fellow band member and cried to her about it instead.
I suppose all that counts as a sign the hormones are doing something?
And there was another work meeting that said changes were coming but gave me no assurance about how my division was going to fare. Still scared to death over this.
Oh, one other thing. I called my sister. She didn't answer. She didn't call, text, or e-mail back even though it would have been clear I called.
In short, everything is awful, my body is awful, and nothing is going right save for the fact I remain employed.
