Joe

Test

Last week I was at Minneapolis' very own CONvergence convention. A fantastic time was had! Obviously, attending a large public event in the current viral climate is not without risk; but I felt considerably more secure in matters given that (a) the organizers had capped attendance at 3,500 (half the size of the previous year), (b) required all attendees show proof of vaccination and (c) instituted a mask mandate.

Unfortunately, post-event, it was determined that an attendee has tested positive for COVID and had informed the organizers as such. They in turn notified all other event-goers, and provided information on the afflicted individual's path through the convention for contract-tracing purposes.

Unfortunately, it transpired that the two of us had attended a panel together; and despite the extremely unlikely possibility of having contracted COVID from this person, the sensible course of action was to go get tested myself.

This did not fill me with joy. As I have previously documented, there is a facet of my younger self - splintered by trauma - that bristles at certain medical interventions... And I knew this would be one of them.

At the start of the pandemic, my spouse required a routine medical procedure; and in advance of that, was required to get a COVID test. I drove them to the in-car test site, and my spouse rolled down the passenger-side window to talk to a fully geared-up nurse.

As many are no doubt aware, those first COVID tests required collecting a sample from the very, very furthest reaches of the sinuses; using what is essentially an extremely long Q-Tip. While not necessarily a painful experience, it can be irritating at best and deeply unpleasant at worst.

Both my spouse and I were a little taken aback when the nurse instructed them to tilt their head back and place their hands firmly on their knees because, and I quote, "Trust me, you will try to stop me".

The nurse swabbed my spouse's sinuses, and it was fine, and other than my spouse feeling like they had been somehow poked in the back of the eyeball, all was good. I, however, was a nervous wreck; because this act had in my mind overstepped the threshold of acceptable bodily integrity violation.

(How does that work? I can't say, as it isn't rational. I am pro-science, pro-safety, pro-vaccine; but the damaged part of me responds viscerally and insensibly to certain medical procedures - evidently of which, this was one.)

Later, my spouse experienced a terrible cold; and their general practitioner recommended another COVID test to be safe. This was at a walk-in clinic, and even though I remained in the car, I still ended up shaking at the thought that my beloved was being harmed in some way.

I have spent far too much time since then conceiving of how I might be required to submit to a COVID test myself some day, and how that would effect me. Fast-forward to that day.

There was a no-appointment clinic near our house. They have a rather slick online registration system; there were some issues completing the process, but a person met me at the parking lot and helped finalize matters. Then they went to retrieve their test apparatus.

Now, to the credit of the test manufacturers: they had clearly taken steps to improve the (deservedly-maligned) collection kit. The swab was a little shorter; no longer needed to reach the very back of the sinuses; featured a very slim, flexible stem (particularly helpful for deviated septum-sufferers); and the cotton tip had been replaced by a small, gentle sponge.

The technician was very nice and explained that they would gently hold the swab in place for the count of five, and in turn I explained that I'm sure everything would be fine and painless - but there was a possibility that I might become upset afterwards and that it was absolutely not their fault.

Then I scrunched up my eyes and held my hedgehog friend very tightly and the technician inserted the swab in my nose and ran it about inside my head and true to her word, the experience was not in the slightest bit unpleasant.

I then proceeded to thank her, albeit stutteringly, because as predicted this invasion of my bodily space had still had a triggering effect. I received my results less than an hour later and they were, of course, negative. Three hours after that, I stopped crying.

It's so strange - yesterday I had laser hair removal; and per my request, the technician turned the power up quite high. There were some moments when it really stung; but... nothing. Not a trigger. Likewise, in a few days I have to get my second HPV immunization; and despite knowing that it will sting (the manufacturer attests this to the "Virus-like particles" it contains), that should be fine too.

Why am I freaked out by some medical procedures, and not others? I really don't know. Probably there's a logic to it; but if there's a pattern, I've yet to discern it...

Office space

My company has decided to rearrange our current layout; so I went into our location today for the purpose of conveying the contents of my current office to my new office.

Amongst other items, this includes some solid wooden shelves and a two-piece desk. These are not light items.

In the past, I've been able to move these things myself (albeit with great effort and probably minus OSHA approval); brute-forcing them onto a dolly and wheeling them to their destination.

Not this time around though! I just didn't have the strength. I was able to get some of the smaller pieces by myself, but when it came to the main part of the desk I had to rope our network engineer in for assistance.

(And he made it look so easy! At one point he had to take the weight of the whole thing while I moved and it didn't phase him in the slightest!)

It's fascinating because I don't actually feel, in any way, shape or form, weaker; but the evidence absolutely speaks for itself. As I've noted before - there's a serious danger that I will injure myself because I can't estimate my own strength properly anymore.

In addition, I ran into an older member of our organization. The last time we met I was in a dress, and he gave a sort of weird half-chuckle / smile that could be interpreted as "Good for her!" or "That's hilarious".

This time around, I said hi and he responded with "Yes, sir".

I can't tell yet whether he's just struggling to adjust or holds some actual, maladjusted views; but now I'm kind of wondering.

"Once is happenstance. Twice is coincidence. The third time it's enemy action." - Auric Goldfinger

Guess I will wait for a third time and see what happens!

Trayzn: "I am an expert, dear colleague, in the location and acquisition of antiquities. I have scoured this galaxy in search of artifacts both rare and priceless; and my service to the Infinite Empire is second to none in this respect.

And yet there is one thing, I must profess, that I have not be able to find: your story to be credible."

Orikan: "..."

Orikan: "BASTARD!"

"Stop laughing Trazyn, I have a Gf, she's just from another dynasty"

Recital

Eight weeks ago I had my first singing recital. As I have previously documented, I have been working uphill against the effects of a past cold; which have interfered heavily in my ability to sing. I then proceeding to catch yet another cold, which incited a flare-up of symptoms.

On the other side - I am, factually-speaking, a baritone; trying to sing like an alto. It's challenging in the extreme.

Every day of the week, any time the opportunity has presented itself, I've been practicing. I didn't feel confident per se; but I was a lot better of for doing so than where I started.

I was singing a version of "You Are My Sunshine", which is a song I learned from my spouse and one that holds great personal significance. There are three verses; the last of which contains a particularly high note. This had been the focus of much of my practice.

We arrived, my spouse and I, at the venue - a local church. My instructor was there to meet me, along with two teenage students - one obviously rather shy; the other bubbly. We did some warm-up exercises in a side room and wished each other good luck.

the student body of my music school is mostly kids; and so the recital was a fairly low-stakes affair - lots of beginners, stumbling along as best as they could. The audience of friends and family members were all very polite, and applauded each performer in turn.

Shy Girl acquitted herself well. Bubbly Girl rendered "Hallelujah"; spectacularly so. And then it was my turn.

There is anecdotal evidence suggesting that many MtF individuals experience issues processing their emotions; and that HRT resolves this problem.

This was certainly the case for me. An interesting offshoot of this is, in my prior life, I suffered little to no anxiety when it came to public speaking. The idea of stage fright was foreign to me.

I have spoken previously about a coming-out presentation I gave at my workplace. I did not mention how incredibly and uncharacteristically nervous I was at the time.

Likewise, I found my heart racing as I stepped onto the stage. I tried to slow my breathing, to no avail. My instructor began cued me in on the piano; and I began to sing. The first verse went well; the second was okay. The third, I hit the high note; but silently cursed as I forgot to breathe and effectively ran out of air moving into the next line.

The audience stared back, and there was a pause; and then they very politely clapped. It felt performative.

I returned to my seat, and tried desperately to hold back tears as the last few performers finished out their own pieces. The recital ended; we talked to my instructor for a few moments, and one of the staff told me "You did great!" on the way out.

We went home. I immediately went to the bedroom, closed the door, and sat in the void between the wall and bed that serves as my nest of safety. Despite my better judgement, I looked up the show's live stream and fast-forwarded to my song.

It was heartbreaking. My barrelled torso and broad shoulders were bursting out of my flower-pattern dress; my feet were planted far too firmly apart. I could hear the chest resonance in my voice and worst of all, the high note was wildly off-key.

I didn't see Lauren. I saw Lawrence.

I cried for an hour; big, heaving, sobs. And then I called my friend and talked to her for a while. It helped; but the damage was done.

There was a singing lesson scheduled the following week, with a very nice substitute. I explained that I wasn't able to sing, and played the piano instead. She was kind. Afterwards I spoke with the school's owner, and asked him to take down the recording of the show.

I'm glad that I participated in the recital. I am. I put myself out there for all the world to see, despite the overwhelming terror of doing so. I might not be the singer I want to be, and I might not pass to the extent I wish I did; but no-one can doubt my courage.

There is a positive coda in all of this. When I did chance to reconnect with my instructor again, she had a message to convey from bubbly girl. She wanted to ask the "Sunshine Girl" where she had found her beautiful dress.

Night terror

Last night I had a very strange night terror episode.

Normally I will be dreaming, and things will get progressively more anxiety-inducing - e.g. something will be chasing me, or I’ll be trying to fight off an attacker. Then my brain will conjure up a truly terrifying phenomenon (like shadow people launching themselves at me en masse) and I’ll scream myself awake.

This time though, I dreamt that I was in my bed... And that God (who I don’t actually believe in) was beaming sound into the fan next to the bed, so I would hear it... And that sound was: cat litter being poured.

Then the screaming started!

I really, really don’t know what my brain was thinking last night.

Hon, correct me if I’m wrong, but - don’t you play the violin?

(I ask because my vision therapist once informed me that this is a common adaptation seen in people that practice independently focusing their eyes on objects at different distances - e.g. violinists, and their violin, and sheet music.)

(That being said, both I and my prescription go both ways; so perhaps there’s merit to the idea that they are connected? 🙂)

Complicated news from eye doc today but part of it is that one eye is nearsighted and one is farsighted so the punchline is even my eyes are bisexual 🤷🏼‍♀️

Dose two

Well; three weeks later, and we got our second COVID vaccine doses.

Although I wish this was not the case, I went from zero to full-on flashback in bout twenty minutes; and expect to remain in some variation of that mindset for the next few days.

I would like to stress for the new reader: this is not a side effect of the vaccine, and I strongly recommend that (where medically possible) everyone get it. This is purely my past history interacting with current events.

On the bright side, in a little over two weeks I will start treatment with a new EMDR therapist. I am very much hoping that goes a long way towards bringing these sorts of undesirable episodes under control.

1. You are most welcome! 🙂

2. It’s a great plan! (For instance: the damaged ruins make me think less of actual cover, and more of a ring of improvised defensive spines. I can’t wait to see how this develops with the addition of both further structures, and lots of greeblies!)

3. I wasn’t familiar with Scratch Bashing; but I’ve checked out a few videos already, and I’m sold! Thank you for the excellent recommendation.

@pamprinninja ty kindly! That's actually exactly the plan, good thinking - something between Howl's Moving Castle and a pine cone, heavily blended together with lots of greebles and pipes and plating etc, in the style of Scratch Bashing on YouTube. He's one of my favourite influences for things like this, I'd highly recommend him for anyone even tangentially interested.

Periscope tail

Our kitten likes to play a game where she runs away and then slowly sneaks up on the person she ran away from. I struggled at first to tell this apart from regular skittishness until my wife pointed out the difference - when we're playing, her tail sticks up like a periscope.

It's so cute - she'll go flying down the hallway but with happy tail! Then there will be some meowing, and the sneaking begins...

Unexpected HRT side-effect #16

So I had Nongshim Black ramen for lunch; I was snacking on original-flavor Takis; and thinking about making chicken for dinner and liberally heaping Lousiana hot sauce on top.

It occurred to me: when did I start eating so many spicy foodstuffs?

Not that I was ever spice-averse; but in my prior life, I certainly didn't seek the stuff out. Now, however, I cannot get enough heat (with the proviso that it's cut with lots and lots of acid; spiciness by itself isn't particularly fun).

I would attribute this particular zag to a routine change in taste; but the exact thing happened to my friend A also once she started her HRT regimen. So - what I lost in temperature tolerance, I apparently now make up for in love of heat!