ssage

Coronavirus pandemic raging. My messed up mind mostly worries, what if they need all the ventilators so my bottom surgery gets delayed? It really makes me anxious. I suppose it is a sign how deeply I long for it now, to be able to move on. I can’t feel much else than urgency for that, and stress over the as-yet-unresolved scary work tasks. Otherwise my heart is battered and bruised and hiding under the couch, like a foundling stray cat.

Spot under my big toenail might be malignant, doctor says likely not, but I am not taking any risks. He will pull that nail out a weak from now and biopsy the fear away. It will be heavy, but I anticipate it also, because it is an opportunity to practice, to test myself and my life for what it takes to handle that. Again, not feeling much but an urgent need to get work done so I can be safe, wait for the divine mercy of a call to schedule my OP, and anorectic joy from sometimes succeeding in losing weight.

Meeting with the dermatologist, I have no idea how much he knew I was trans. I dressed down to panties and pulled my buttcheeks apart, still tucked. I assume he must have realized I am, but it was never stated or talked about, I was treated like any other woman. It happens usually like this. Either people are respectful to me, or I pass to them. I never know. It could be a lot worse.