Decidedly Obscure Human Complaints.

Well this explains the increase in the price of my testosterone cypionate. Fortunately I now have in my possession an approximately 6 month supply, but there really is a shortage. Gender Outlaw has been great about investigating this shortage that’s affecting the United States and Canada. From his most recent post:

It looks like we’re at the tail end of this shortage, but with shortages becoming more common the following information may be helpful the next time this happens and you’re caught short…

Testosterone Shortage Update: ETAs, Alternatives and Causes >

I’m dating someone. Woot! It’s been, oh… approximately 3 years since I’ve done so? Which means this is kinda epic.

Or, rather, super epic.

Back in the day I had essentially resolved to stop dating for a number of reasons. First, over time intimacy had become a huge dysphoria trigger. It got to the point where I just absolutely couldn’t ignore the disconnect between my mind and body. Without dating I had a series of coping tactics I’d developed throughout my wily adolescence - such as never looking down when I was naked (or in the mirror) and ignoring the existence of my female-bodied areas as much as possible.

But when I finally stumbled into the land of intimacy at 17 years of age… even though I didn’t quite know why, I preferred that my partner didn’t touch me. It made me sad. And this preference lasted until my third relationship. When I was touched, I tried to pretend that my body was what my brain map expected - for lack of a better term, male-typical.

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Had the most difficult time getting my prescription refill (testosterone cypionate) this time around! Generally I just wander in to the pharmacy and say, “I wanna refill.”. I give money, take bag of needles and bottle o’ T, and stumble back out into the world. But when I attempted to refill this time around ON injection day I was told, “Oh, you’re out of refills. Oh, and your doctor won’t authorise a refill until you make an appointment with her.”

Oh, alright. Fair enough. Except that I just got paid and due for a shot.

When I tried to schedule an appointment with her I was told, “You owe us money. It’s in collections. Here’s their number.” Wha? From when? Where? Whyyyyy is this the first time I’ve heard of it and it’s in collections!?

Turns out, even though my doctor’s office had my current address and name - they had never communicated that to billing. So here I was, bumbling along assuming that all of my info is current, but meanwhile billing had my old name and an old ass address that I’d lived at three years ago before even beginning hormone therapy. And, presumably, have been sending bills to ever since.

Yet, throughout this time I’ve obliviously owed mula, I’ve been making appointments every 6 months. For, uh, almost 3 years. And was told nothin’.

Until, one day, I try to refill and suddenly need to make an appointment and it happens to be when I’m due and suddenly can’t because I suddenly owe money to collections and suddenly can’t make an appointment.

Lame-o. Anyway, fortunately it turned out to be a small sum and I’m paying it and was able to make an appointment and refill my prescription. But for a minute there, I had no medication. If I didn’t have an awesome friend back up, I would’ve endured withdrawal and, potentially, medical complications from said withdrawal!

I was already starting to get mega-weird from just missing one day.

See, I inject every Thursday. And last Friday when I went to inject, something bizarre happened. Pre-needle-pokin’ I generally repeat the mantra, “It’s just like butta. It’s just like butta.” But somehow I got it in my head that my leg is a firm chunk o’ callous meat and my spaghetti noodle appendage of an arm wouldn’t be able to stab the needle in fast or hard enough to make it through all of the way. And, if I couldn’t puncture through, I’d have to slowly carve through layers of muscle, veins, and tissue to get the entire needle in.

It’s not true - but the visual paralysed me enough that I just.couldn’t.do.it. I felt confused about how, after almost 3 years of self-injection, I’d suddenly hit a block. Wtf!?

Fortunately a friend poked me and all went well. But the same thing happened again this morning and I had to ask my dad to help. What’s a-goin’-on? I blame Statistics. May as well.

Packing to travel has always been easy for me. A few rolled up t-shirts, a pair of pants or two, underroos, socks, deodorant, toothpaste, yada yada… done and done. Small enough to carry-on and off I go, yonder to wherever. But this time, for an academic conference? No horror t-shirts and basketball shorts all mushed up into a backpack. Instead, I actually went out and got a luggage situation and packed it with button ups, ties, slacks, shorts, one t-shirt, and a fo’ real real suit. I followed this guy’s barely audible instructions on Youtube for How to Pack a Suit.

And, another difference — for the first time I’m travelling with my vial of Testosterone Cypionate and syringes. I have a little plastic container that Aaron lent me to pack the syringes in. I’ve tried reading around and, apparently, I can bring my syringes and testosterone in carry-on with me? I also asked about it in a local trans-masculine social group on Facebook and received comforting feedback that other guys had travelled with no problem. Aaron additionally advised me that if I’m selected for a full pat down, to request a private room since, most likely, male security will pat me down and would be surprised to discover a little too much padding going on in the chest area. Gaaahhh surgery… so….  close… (speaking of surgery, my preparation packet from the surgeon’s office should be arriving any moment now!)

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You may not have thought about testosterone much since your voice cracked while reciting Shakespeare in Mrs. Tonnelson’s ninth grade English class. (art of manliness)

Well, maybe some men haven’t, Art of Manliness. But for this guy? I kindasorta think about it quite a bit - even as my voice began cracking while singing Rock Band karaoke at age 27 or attempting to enthusiastically hoot during burlesque at the bar.

Apparently, in order to increase one’s T, I’m supposed to:

• Sleep at least 8 hours a night
• Don’t smoke
• Don’t consume soy
• Meditate for at least 10 minutes 
• Lift weights
• Eat a serving of good fat
• Eat a serving of animal protein
• Eat a serving of cruciferous vegetables
• Have morning sex (does partner-less count?)

So, everything is all said and good, minus the “don’t consume soy” and the “eat a serving of animal protein” crap.

First, the soy-increases-estrogen hoopla is bunk. A meta-analysis conducted in 2009 was published in the journal Fertility and Sterility which showed that neither soy foods nor isoflavone supplements from soy affect testosterone levels in men.

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Recently I stumbled across an alternative to testosterone injections - something called a “Testopel Implant” which claims to “normalize testosterone levels for 3-6 months per dose”. It is placed under the skin of the hip area and “the pellets will slowly dissolve away as they are delivering the medication over a 3-6 month period.”

Does anyone do this instead of injections, or know anything about it positive/negative?