It was in early June that I first decided I needed gender therapy. My insurance only provides payment for providers in network, but that didn't seem to be a problem. Aetna has a web based "doc finder" that's easy to use. They have a menu option for just about any specialty. I chose psychological, sub specialty "gender" and what I thought of a reasonable 25 mile radius (that would encompass the entire metropolis of Baltimore) and waited for the list to come up.
LOOK AT THE LITTLE ->-bleeped-<-.
Nothing. I upped the radius to 50 miles, which would have included Washington D.C. Nothing. I upped it to 100, the max radius. Still no gender therapists.
HE THINKS HE'S A GIRL. THAT'S SO-O-O CUTE!
So I called Aetna. The lady on the other end was very nice. I asked for gender therapists. She gave me three names and phone numbers.
I WONDER IF WE CAN GET HIM TO JUMP THROUGH A HOOP. HERE ->-bleeped-<-. SEE THE HOOP? JUMP! WE'LL GIVE YOU A YUMMY THERAPY BISCUIT.
Luckily I checked them out on the web before calling. Two were conservative Christian counseling venues (I'm not even Christian at all). None of them listed gender as any of their specialties.
HE JUMPED. THAT'S SO CUTE! GOOD ->-bleeped-<-!
I called Aetna back. They said they would need to refer me to a special locator who would be in touch within ten days.
ANOTHER HOOP, ->-bleeped-<-. THINK HOW YUMMY THAT THERAPY BISCUIT WILL BE! JUMP!
Exactly ten days later, the locator called me. She gave me a single name. Assured me this was an expert. I called the name she gave me. Despite the fact that she refused to tell me how many transgender clients she'd had ("quite a number") or even give me a ballpark figure, I went to see her a few times.
GOOD ->-bleeped-<-. HERE'S A FEW CRUMBS OF THERAPY. ISN'T IT YUMMY?
She knew less than I did. Didn't know the terms ->-bleeped-<- or cis. Talked about of a former client, "a gentleman who used to go out wearing women's clothes from time to time." Asked if that would be good enough for me.
WANT MORE OF THE THERAPY BISCUIT, ->-bleeped-<-?
I called my insurance company back and asked for another name. They asked who I wanted to see. I know that Dr. Chris Kraft and Dr. Kate Thomas each has a good reputation. They told me they would cover visits to Dr. Kraft (he had told me he doesn't participate in their plan.) I asked them to provide that assurance in writing.
HERE'S ANOTHER HOOP ->-bleeped-<-. JUMP!
They assured me he was covered, but refused to give me anything in writing. I decided, screw it, even if they refuse in the end, I have enough saved up to foot the whole bill. I called Dr. Kraft to make an appointment.
OH, HE JUMPED! AREN'T THOSE TRANNIES JUST SO PRECIOUS.
Dr. Kraft told me that before he or Dr. Thomas would see me, the clinic he's part of requires me to go for an intake evaluation at Johns Hopkins Hospital.
LET'S RAISE THE HOOP REALLY HIGH AND SEE IF HE'LL JUMP.
This was late July already, a month and a half after I first decided to see a therapist. I made an appointment at Hopkins, but the soonest I could get was mid-October, nearly three months away.
SEE THE YUMMY THERAPY BISCUIT, ->-bleeped-<-? JUMP!
After three months, and a half day off from work, the appointment at Hopkins was disappointing. A resident interviewed me initially, called me "Mr.", took a general history but asked me very little about being transgender. She admitted that she had only once before encountered a transgender client.
NO, ->-bleeped-<-, NO BISCUIT YET, BUT REEEEALLY SOON.
At the end of the day, I saw a teaching doctor who fired questions at me, talked more than he listened, raised his voice and scolded me because I hadn't already decided to bring my kids in for therapy. He told me I needed to slow down my plans for transition, that I hadn't "thought through my decision to transition". He did, however, praise me for being "responsible" in seeking therapy instead of transitioning on my own.
BUT YOU JUMPED. YOU'RE SUCH A GOOD ->-bleeped-<-. YES YOU ARE. THE BEST.
At the end he told me that I had gender identity disorder (I could have told him that months ago without taking off work) and that he'd refer me to a therapist.
HERE'S THE THERAPY BISCUIT. DOESN'T IT LOOK YUMMY.
He said someone would be in touch with me within a week.
NO, CAN'T HAVE IT YET. JUST ONE MORE HOOP ->-bleeped-<-. YOU'RE ALMOST THERE. C'MON. JUMP!
A week? Why should it take a week? I can see it would take a couple minutes to cut one of the straws short, and then another minute or two for each doc each to pick a straw. Then maybe a half hour or so when the one that drew the short one argues for a while ("Isn't there a child molester or a serial killer you can put me with? Someone I can relate to. Why did it have to be a ->-bleeped-<-?") before they finally accept me as a patient. How can that all possibly take a week?
It's now been six days. Thing is, I'm so unhappy with my treatment, I'm not sure I even want to be involved with any therapist associated with that group. But that would leave me back at square one.
DON'T YOU JUST LOVE JUMPING THROUGH HOOPS, ->-bleeped-<-? LOOK AT HIM. LOOK HOW MUCH HE LOVES THIS. ISN'T HE THE CUTEST?
