My surgerymates and I are tired and enraged. Multiple surgeries take their toll.
I'm part of a WhatsApp group with the three guys I shared a room with as I had meta surgery and some two other guys that the others met at their first time at the hospital.
We check in with each other from time to time: How's life going, what's up next, who's going to have surgery soon. Yesterday, one of those convos sparked up. We shared our next scheduled dates, we talked about about balls, since O got his recently and chatted about our preferences regarding EDs, the unreliability of the models available. M told us he met a guy who accumulated no less than 19 hospital stays (!) for his ED alone. Dark humored, we turned about other unreliabilities within surgeries:
"You remember that one time where Dr L squeezed out this hematoma on O's scrotum right there in his bed?" O said he'll never forget that for sure. And that's what it got started. Just as the clocked dark blood exploded in Os bed, all this anger, frustration, angst, desperation sprayed around.
The bitterness that there are still just pumps designed for cis guys available, that the current EDs fail regularily and there is no silver lining to recieving better medical care in time. Insecurity to be stuck between two less than optimal options and to need it anyway. Frustration of one hospital stay after another, surgical burnout and The Fear To Never Be Done After All. Piled about, delayed longing for a life of just a guy among guys. The anger, that we didn't succeed to fulfill this so very basic human need. The desire to Just Be Done With It Already. Our dwindling resources to hold on, keep going and get shit done nonetheless. Tired, sore and fucked up.
Then we went on to compensate with sarcasm: the crowded hospital, where you never know whether you get to stay at the hospital itself or get a bed at a non-specialized facility (non-educated medical staff being a real thing). The burnout after three surgeries on your urethra and no end in sight. The transphobia medical professionals displayed (stories about an endocrinologist, a psychologist and a nurse). Transphobia within college, work and society in general, where we're told that autism and trans don't occur together, that trans is a trend, that we do all that for attention, that we just have to think positive and it's all gonna be resolved by itself.
All the minor disturbances within surgeries: the crowded hospital, thats doesn't allow the patient to stay the night before surgery any more, so you have to afford at least one night at a hotel (or more, if you have your pre-medical consultation on Friday and surgery on Monday, like M did). You have to get tested for HIV for every surgery you undergo in the phallo process (All the orgy you're going to have between stage 1 and 2, with your frickin sexy healing penis!). Dating cis women. Being prohibited to donor blood. All the shit.
And we were quite a bit raging against the dying of the night, so to speak. Because we don't deserve to be treated like shit. We deserve our healing, our dignity, our own time. We deserve our fuckin penis. We deserve medical care and we aint no leaving without what we need.











