scrubjayspeaks

It’s official: I have scheduled my knife fight! February 6th, 2025. A Thursday, as all the best things must be.

259 days from now.

[CW for frank discussions of body changes, including hair loss, surgery, and dysphoria. Also a brief reference to my dad’s recent heart attack. I'll be putting these updates fully under cuts, as they are less general interest on the topic of gender/transness and more "what do I personally have going on with my bits these days." Niche interest and all that.]

Did I forget that it was the 8th? Yes, because time is an illusion and my life is on fire.

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[CW for discussions of surgery (general, no details), medical gatekeeping, imposter syndrome, and dysphoria.]

Sometimes, if you’re a very strange person, you schedule meetings with a licensed social worker to get a letter of support for gender confirmation surgery on your birthday. Look, I knew I would be off work, which is 9/10ths of the battle most of the time. It did mean, however, that I spent a few hours vibrating out of my skin as part of the general birthday festivities.

But now I’ve got a letter that seems to tick all the boxes that the insurance (and by extension, the surgeon) will expect to see. I technically had a letter before, but it was much less formal and did not come from someone with the sorts of letters after their name that the insurance will expect. So this is round two on that front. (Please, please, please, let this be the last round.)

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