Two days ago, walking to the train station to go to work, I slipped on some ice (because I wasn't paying attention) and fell badly, fracturing a leg bone and doing some sort of less X-ray-visible damage.  I'm at home now, hobbling around with a walker and taking regular doses of "controlled substance" pain-killers.  I'm mainly posting this to find shoulders to cry on, but I have some TG-related thoughts, too.

First of all, it took me quite a while to admit that I actually needed an ambulance.  After I finally got up off the sidewalk, I kept trying to walk.  I'd hobble maybe twenty very painful feet and then have to find something to sit down on.  (Luckily there was a retaining wall next to the side walk and it didn't have snow on it.)  I kept wanting to pretend it wasn't that serious.  I seriously considered going into work anyway.  I considered walking back home, until I estimated how long it would take at my rate of progress so far.  I considered a taxi, but couldn't figure out how I'd get over the snowbanks and ice patches to the road.  I really wanted to pretend it wasn't serious enough to require the ER or, God forbid, an ambulance.  Don't be a drama queen, don't ask for all that special attention, it's not that bad.  I'm sure everybody knows the lines.

It reminds me of how so many of us want to pretend that our gender dysphoria or gender disconnect isn't that bad.  We're selfish, overdramatic, we're making a mountain out of a molehill.  We don't really need to transition, do we?  Maybe we can just underdress, or maybe dress up when no one else is around.  (I don't really need an ambulance, maybe I can just walk to the urgent care center.)

Then there was the whole business of leaving myself and my care in the hands of the EMT.  He was very competent and very caring and supportive through the whole thing, but I had a hard time with it.  He needed me to lie back and let him take over and take care of me, and I had to force myself over and over again to relax and let go.  The "guy" training -- that I have to take care of myself and not depend upon other people -- is still pretty strong, for all of my desire to believe I'm not really a man.  As is my inability to trust that anybody would really be there if I need them.

Then there were the times when I had to "out" myself.  The EMT and the ER people each asked me several times, "what medications are you on and what are they for?"  I had to say, "wellbutrin for depression, estradiol and spirononlactone for gender transition."  After the horror stories I'd heard, I was afraid I'd get at least weird looks at the "gender transition", but nobody batted an eye.  It was no more of an issue for them than if I'd said aspirin.

Ouch!  Sorry to hear about your fall.  I am glad that you are taking care of yourself and are on the mend.  Big hug!

That's an interesting parallel you draw between wanting to cope on your own after the fall and wanting to cope on your own about GD.  So true!  Though the years of guy training didn't quite make us guys, much of it, both good and bad, has stuck.

As a volunteer fire department first responder, I have worked a lot with ambulance paramedics.  The vast majority, as you found, are totally professional.  They have mostly seen it all and done it all, so nothing surprises them or makes them react unprofessionally.  Respect for the patient is their job.  I remember the time we were called to the house of a notorious drug dealer who was known for taking pot-shots at his enemies.  But, when we got there, he was just another patient who needed our help.  Never be afraid to call for help if you need it.

If you believe someone with a fractured leg should receive an ambulance, or someone with gender dysphoria should receive treatment, then certainly you deserve the same. Why do you feel inferior?

I hope you heal soon!

Ouch. Sorry about your leg. Isn't ice just the worst? Anyway, I hope you get better soon.

I like the analogy of ignoring a injury being like pushing aside dysphoria. Though i don't know what that means for me given I once broke my ankle and walked around on it for 3 days before I saw a doctor. My whole foot got all swollen and changed colors it was kinda fun actually. Every now and again I would step on a loose patch of dirt or mud my good foot would go out from under me and I would end up with all the weight on the broken one. I would scream fall down then giggle for a minute, stand back up and keep fighting. (that makes more sense if you know that I was at a camp ground playing in a live action roleplaying game where you hit people with foam swords.)

Sorry for going off topic, hope you heal fast lose of mobility sucks,

Serena