Hormones, and the aquisition thereof

In this country we are pretty lucky to have the NHS. We complain about it a lot, it’s slow, often inefficient or disorganised and has some odd ways of going about things, but it’s also full of lovely caring types who offset the less liberal minority that can sometimes make life difficult for anyone who’s trans.

The main problem for me at the moment is the slow bit. I was referred to Leeds GIC in June of last year but I’m still waiting to find out when I’ll get my first appointment. Apparently I’ll hear from them in April. In the meantime I was left to tackle living full time as female, on my own, with no support or treatment. The idea of waiting until the end of this year to get onto hormones was a bit too much to bear, so I made the decision to go private until Leeds gave me the nod.

Now, I’m not loaded, so this was a big deal for me. Again, my parents came to the rescue, helping out with funds so I could go and see Dr Curtis at Transhealth in London. After an initial one hour appointment, I was told to gather blood tests and a supporting letter from a therapist in Manchester. My GP was happy to do the blood tests which saved me about £130, and the session with the therapist went smoothly, so I made my way back to London as quickly as I could.

These trips to London were pretty stressful in themselves; the first time I went, I nearly missed the train from Manchester Piccadilly, and when I arrived at Euston the sheer numbers of people sent me spiralling into a mini panick attack. I shuffled as quickly as I could into Regents Park, where I found a bench at the edge of a circular garden and hid for the next half hour whilst I fixed my makeup and pretended that a very tame robin was my friend who would never judge me and wold always be there to tell me how nice I look.

Eventually the robin lost interest in me and I had to set off to the clinic. Once there, everything was straightforward. Dr Curtis seemed really nice and easy to talk to, and he explained my options clearly, and what results I could expect from hormone replacement therapy. Afterwards I ducked into a cinema to watch Gravity again (I’d already seen it but it was either watch that or hang around the streets for a while) until my train home at 7.40pm. One of the worst things about any trip to London is the wait for the cheaper off peak trains home.

The second trip was a bit more straightforward. Train, clinic, handing over of hormones, hiding hormones in my big eco friendly shopping bag, having lots of money removed from my account, cinema (this time the excellent Inside Llewyn Davis), hang around for a bit then the train home again.

Dr Curtis had given me three months supply of oestrogen, I quized him about the lack of a testosterone blocker, and he explained that very often the oestrogen would simply overpower the T in my body and reduce the levels that way, whilst avoiding the side effects of blockers/anti androgens. I had no intention of arguing with an experienced doctor, and he’d review my hormone levels in a few months anyway and prescribe anti-androgens if needed. The oestrogen itself came in gel form, which sounded a bit messy to me but has actually turned out to be not so bad.

Once I got back, I was exhausted but happy. I finally had the medication I needed. At the same time there was a slight nervousness; trans people often repeat the mantra ‘your mileage may vary’ in relation to HRT, and I was afraid that my mileage might not turn out to be all that great. But as with most things, there’s only one way to find out, so as soon as I got home I spread the first satchet of gel across my stomach.

Here goes…