There's something that feels disturbingly nerdy about writing a blog post about a thread in an online forum. I don't think I'm going to be able to shake that as I write this. Oh well. (note: I am rereading this post having finished it, and I can't believe how long this ended up!)
First of all, serious thanks to everyone that has been supportive regarding my father. The kidney removal was a success, and so he came home a few days after that surgery to rest up. There will be more treatments to follow in a few weeks when he recovers. I've spent the last month living by the mantra of "plan for the worst, hope for the best, expect something in between". It really is just a shitty situation that can't be changed, so I've had to make due with accepting the way things are. This has worked out alright - I've gone home for the last few weekends to visit and spend some time both with my father and with my family. It's really nice to be able to do so and I'm making sure to appreciate what we have together, but I certainly wish that it was under better circumstances.
My father has cancer.
I got the call from my mother roughly a month ago, telling me that he hadn't been eating and had lost 15 pounds in a month. Foolish optimist that I am, I tried not to worry about it until there was more information as to what the problem was. I figured that maybe he had a stomach bug or something that was making him hungry less. A week after that call, I received another confirming that he has kidney cancer that had metastasized to his liver. I went to visit on the weekend following that call, and was distressed at what I saw: he was coughing alot, had a pain in his shoulder, and told me that he had a fever that hit him pretty much every night.
Tomorrow, he will be leaving for the Sloan-Kettering Cancer Center for surgery to remove his kidney. After that, there will be chemotherapy to attempt to cure his liver. And, having come home for the weekend to support the family and spend time with him, I'm realizing that it's only getting worse: the pain in his shoulder is really bad, and isn't explained by kidney or liver problems, which has me worrying more and more.
For my family's sake, I'm not going to go into much more detail in this blog yet. For the last month, my father had asked that I not publicize his illness because he didn't want people to worry, but at this point word has gotten out and most family friends know about it and so he gave me permission. All I will say is that my father is the person from who I have inherited my eternal optimism, and it is the most painful thing that I have ever experienced to watch it slowly turn into an acceptance that there is no guarantee that things will be all right. I have been wavering in how to take this turn of events. Part of me wants to focus on my hopes that he will be cured and no longer have to suffer through a whole lot of pain. Another part of me, though, is trying to prepare for the fact that, after I finish this post and go to sleep, I may have just experienced the last full day of getting to be around my father.
I guess that brings me to the reason that I'm writing this post. As I mentioned in the post before this, possibly the biggest regret that I have in my life is the fact that I waited so long before coming out to my parents. Something he said to me today is that he feels like he's being robbed years of being able to watch me develop into a happy and confident woman. Ironically, I waited so long because I was afraid that I would lose my family's love and support, and because I waited, I'm stuck living with the reality that I made the wrong choice. It hurts a lot. With that in mind, I have since learned not to keep secrets back from those who care about me, which is why I'm writing these thoughts out for people to see.
To the religious people reading this blog: please keep my father in your thoughts and prayers over the next few days.
To the people who still have one or both parents around: tell (or show) them how much you love them. There may come a time when you're no longer able to.
To those that have lost loved ones to cancer, or lost loved ones in general: I have a new understanding for how tough this is, and am truly sorry for all others that have had to go through this.
To the transgendered people reading this who are struggling with coming out: try and have faith in your family's love for you, because if you are correct, you'll find that the support of a loving family is the single best thing you can have.
To my friends, coworkers, and extended family that have known about this: thank you for your support that you've shown me and my family in the last month. It has helped me a lot to know that there are so many people who care.
Lately, I've been struggling with the feeling that I have wasted a lot of my life.
On Saturday night, I went out for a night on the town to celebrate some friends' birthdays. It was an exaggerated version of how I think a normal person in their twenties would have spent a Saturday night: we met at a friends' house, played some poker and beer pong, got picked up by the Party Bus which took us to some bars and clubs around Boston. At this point in my life, at the ripe old age of 29, I had never actually been out clubbing and figured that the time was right for a new experience. The night promised drinking and debauchery, and I figured that it would be a good way to take my mind off of some stress I had been having (that will likely be detailed in my next post).
It didn't work out in practice the way that it did in my head, though. I found that going out clubbing was very similar to what I had experienced pre-transition when I briefly tried being in relationships. I figured that it was just gender-related inhibitions that were stopping me from going out and living a normal life, and that adding to my life experiences would get me past those fears. This wasn't the case. I found that I don't have any desire to drink myself into a stupor - since I started taking hormones, the strain on my liver has caused me to just get tired instead of drunk whenever I try alcohol. Because of this, I found myself getting more and more uncomfortable as people were getting more and more drunk. In addition (or maybe as a result), I couldn't get comfortable in the clubs because of the obvious gender separation. The guys I was with would dance with the girls I was with and vice versa; people would branch out looking for potential dates or hook-ups without any seeming inhibitions regarding what to do. I couldn't quite get there, partially because my sex drive is virtually nil right now, partially because most of the crew I was with knew me before I had transitioned, partially because I have almost no experience meeting guys and don't know what to do, and partially because the last experience I had with a guy while dancing at a show resulted in disaster.
Eventually, I started to feel worse and worse and was developing a pretty fierce headache, so I excused myself and cut out early. As if to drive the point home, a group of drunk guys approached me on the way to the T station. One guy drunkenly said something to the effect of "hey girl!" as they walked past me, and I heard his friend so "yo, that's a dude" as they walked away. Great. For the most part, I understand that I can expect that type of thing, but it still sucks.
Experiences like this are really tough because they make me feel like I waited way too long to do anything about being transgendered. I had really convinced myself that there was no way I could be strong enough to handle the risks of coming out. The main rationalization in my head that I used was that there was no way my religious family would accept me, and so instead of transitioning at 22 when I first realized what my feelings meant, I waited until I was 27. Those five years, despite having plenty of fun moments and being generally good, represent five years of wasted potential for my life. I had already accepted that I will never get to have experienced the type of childhood/teenage years that I wish I could have, but now I'm realizing that much of my twenties will have been a write-off as well.
I think that it's a common thing to speculate about: what would I do if I could go back to any point in my life and tell my past self something? For me, the answer is as follows: I would go back to the moment I moved out of Connecticut and told myself to seek out a gender therapist immediately. I would tell myself to have more faith in my family's love for me, and explain how much better things would be once I got things out in the open. I'd tell myself to put more stock in my thoughts and feelings and less in what other people thought of me. And I would definitely tell myself to stop taking things for granted - with the exception of my gender problems, my life has always been really blessed, and I think I mistakenly assumed that it would always be that way. I would tell myself to stop putting things off and start truly living, because when life throws curveballs and you realize that the things you took for granted are no longer there, complacency is soon replaced with regret. It's a terrible feeling.
This post will be continued later this week. Apologies if it comes off as really vague.
