Another Test

Shuffle Meme - Part 2

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Now, the music from my library that I’ve actually taken the time to clean up...

Groove

Turbo Killer Carpenter Brut - TRIOLOGY Literally the perfect horror-themed synthwave song, and with an amazing accompanying video. I have very happy memories of racing through the hills of Pennsylvania with the top down and this blasting at full volume...

Sun, Rain And Fire Dee Mac - Eve Of Destruction I’ve mentioned Dee Mac before - not only is she a tremendously talented genre-bending artist; she’s also worked incredibly hard to evolve her vocal style - and it shows!

i ‘ m  e v e r y t h i n g  y o u ‘ v e  e v e r  w a n t e d ImCoPav - H E N T A I  M I X T A P E I’m not the biggest vaporwave / Eccojams fan; but I unapologetically love this entire, absurd album.

Variation IX. Nimrod Holst - Variations On An Original Theme, Op. 36 The crown jewel of The Enigma Variations; a majestic tribute to overcoming adversity.

What Have You Been Living For IRIS - Underground Arts, 09.07.19 In celebration of their 20th anniversary, all three members of the group assembled for a show studded with highlights - amongst them, this spectacular rework of a song originally destined for the cutting room floor.

Retro Reverb Records Festival, Live On Nightride.FM Let 'Em Riot It was this performance that sold me on the work of LA native Alan Oakes; combing uplifting melodies with a wistful look into the past.

スターヴァージン サクラ SAKURA-LEE - Star Virgin II A stand-out in the world of anime-themed future funk; leaning into the utter ridiculousness where her fellow artists fear to tread.

Ben Kedim Yatağım (ft. Rob Dougan) Sezen Aksu - Biraz Pop Biraz Sezen Dougan disappeared for almost a decade and a half to run a vineyard; and celebrated his return in this collaboration with Sezen Aksu, the Madonna of Turkey.

I’ve No More F***s To Give Thomas Benjamin Wild Esq. - Awkward Encounters While Walking My Dog The perfect antidote to a bad day; and with such delightful wordplay to boot! (There’s also a fantastic little live performance.)

Stand Alone (Peter Vanek Remix) We Were Strangers A delicate remix of an already haunting slice of Americana.

On to Part 3...

Signal

Several friends of mine have recently switched to Signal as the messaging app of choice; in significant part due to privacy concerns with other messaging apps (specifically, those owned and operated by Facebook).

Now, I’m not hip to the intricacies of said privacy concerns; however, after using Signal for a bit, I will note the following:

Pressing the enter key does not send your message (unlike, say, WhatsApp). It just adds a line break. As someone that writes particularly long messages, I cannot stress what a game-changer this was for me.

It has the most comprehensive spell check dictionary I have ever seen in any application, ever! I cannot stress how tremendously frustrating it is for me to use a word like ‘tremendous’ in other applications and have it redlined! (Point in question: Signal recognizes ‘redlined’ as a word; Firefox does not.)

So: if, like me, you write ridiculously long messages filled with needlessly prolix vocabulary, perhaps Signal is the app for you.

Unexpected HRT side-effect #3

So... your sense of smell becomes more sensitive. That’s not particularly unknown (although you’ll hardly find it on the informed consent form). No, the unexpected part is this:

CATS SMELL SO GOOD.

Oh my god! They are like tiny precious babies. All I want to do is inhale my cats (while they look on in utter and well-justified bewilderment).

Coming out

I have come out to a great many people these past eighteen months; and I have been fortunate in that there have effectively been no negative reactions. (I know too many people that have not had the same experience, and my heart bleeds for them.)

There were two instances where I was genuinely terrified of how the other party might react. The first was my spouse - not because I thought for a second that they would respond poorly, but rather because I felt that I was unilaterally introducing an enormous life change into a relationship that I value beyond estimation.

(Of course, I should not have worried - they accepted this new state of affairs immediately. That’s the kind of amazing person my spouse is.)

The second was my friend and colleague of fifteen years; a fiercely intelligent and analytic man of few words. He is an émigré of the Soviet Union and as such holds very different views from myself in many matters; including, I feared, the subject of transgenderism.

Again, I should not have concerned myself; as he delivered an answer that in one sentence perfectly encapsulated the man’s outlook, brevity, and uniquely blended mode of English and Russian speech.

“Ah, well; that’s just your decision.”

To those unaccustomed to his way of speaking, it might sound harsher than intended; but on the contrary, this was one of the greatest endorsements I could have received and remains a highlight of the coming-out process: “Hey, you do you”.

Ramen

During the initial months of quarantine, the tent pole of my day was making ramen for lunch. I make no claim that the end product was particularly authentic; but it was a nice way of breaking up the monotony of working from home.

(I will however give a big shout-out to my friend J for teaching me how to make immaculately soft-boiled eggs.)

At this time, my go-to addition was thick-sliced ham - it's a relatively inexpensive and plentiful protein. This also pleased our two youngest cats, who adore ham and would converge on the kitchen on an intercept course for the purpose of acquiring their own cured pork off-cuts.

In due course, I moved on to making other things for lunch and the older of the two - Gracie - took this change in stride and left me to my own cooking devices.

Not Karkat though! She is definition of "High intelligence, low wisdom" - no matter what I am doing in the kitchen, she has determined that it could be at least slightly ham-related.

This is both cute... and rather inconvenient, as her chosen method of communicating her desire for ham is to circle my legs and rub up on them while meowing loudly (which is all good and well until I'm carrying a hot and / or heavy pan).

So... this is my life now. All cooking will, on a go-forward basis, involve delicately stepping around an insane kitten - like some kind of cuisine-themed, cat-based version of a sword dance!

Purges

A friend introduced me to Andrea Jenkins and her powerful work “Eighteen”; and I recall thinking to myself “Well, at least I can be thankful I never purged my belongings.

Then I remembered that I threw out my dress because I was convinced I wasn’t going to live much longer (i.e. experiencing a particularly strong episode of passive suicidal ideation) and needed to make sure nobody would find it when sorting through my belongings.

The more I think about this, the more I realize there have been other times in my pre-out life when I’ve permanently disposed of items; either because my self-esteem had hit rock bottom and I was in full “I’m a monster” mode, or because I feared their discovery (or both).

I suppose it’s better that I’m being honest about this with myself; but all the same, it’s not a happy set of realizations.

Paste

Yesterday my daughter and I were talking about tomato salsa. That discussion veered in a very strange direction, and is repeated here verbatim for posterity:

Me: “Did you know salsa is technically a fruit salad?”

The Daughter: “No it isn’t! Salads have leaves... and stuff... in them.”

Me: “Then how do you explain tuna salad?”

The Daughter: “I don’t even know what that is, but it sounds gross!”

Me: “It’s just tuna mixed with mayonnaise. You know, like in sandwiches.”

The Daughter: “Mayonnaise”, (pause to summon up indignance),"...is a paste!”

Me: “I think the maybe word you’re looking for is ‘emulsification’?”

The Daughter: “I don’t know what that means. All I know is: mayonnaise is made of two solids; and one of them is grease. And grease... is a paste.”

I never thought I would see, firsthand and in my own household, Millennials killing the mayonnaise industry!

Unexpected HRT side-effect #2: addendum

I have covered before the exciting world of nipple rotation. Well: now they are rotating back! I suppose it stands to reason; that the early stages of breast development result in a certain lopsidedness that self-corrects as the girls fill out.

The only reason this is noteworthy for me is that unlike most female pubescents, I have nipple piercings (acquired without moral hazard) and thus had a very visual gauge by which to observe this entire tilting process!

From what I recall, JMS originally offered the explanation that:

1. He had written the character of Jeffrey Sinclair to be something of a warrior-philosopher (which makes a great deal of sense if you are familiar with the character's eventual fate); with considerable emphasis on the 'philosopher' component in the first season.

2. From the second season forward, Sinclair would adopt a more action-oriented role, and drive the main story arc forward.

3. He hadn't laid the necessary groundwork for this change; and having written himself into a corner, JMS opted to exercise one of his famous 'trapdoors' and switch Sinclair out for John Sheridan.

The reasoning wasn't wholly implausible (imagine, for instance, Sinclair deploying nuclear weapons with the same sort of joyful abandon as Sheridan); and the timing happened to coincide with the introduction of Hotshot Network Note Warren Keffer (which lent some credence to the idea that TNT had a hand in the change)

To give full credit to JMS: not only did he protect Michael O'Hare's reputation (and kept the actor's mental health struggles in confidence until after his passing), but he did so by offering up a cover story that placed the blame entirely on his own shoulders.

If I had a nickel for every time a 90s sci-fi show had to write out a character who had visions and other mental power things, because their actor developed severe mental health issues, only for the producers to lie about why they'd been written out for decades afterwards? And they came back once or twice for a cameo?

I'd have 10 cents, but it's still weird that it happened twice.

(Kes played by Jennifer Lien on Star Trek: Voyager and Jeffery Sinclair played by Michael O'Hare on Babylon 5)

01:38 AM

I should be unconscious right now, but I can’t sleep. I put the distractions aside, and lay down, and close my eyes... That’s when my thoughts catch up with me. You would think that at a certain point, the human body would simply run out of tears to cry; but if there’s a limit, I haven’t hit it yet this evening.

There are almost certainly connections between the different ideas, images, and recollections currently vying for attention inside of my head. I’m not sure I’m in the right frame of mind however to go mining for insight. Perhaps later.

On Monday, I have my MRI. As tests go, it’s fairly mundane; the most prevalent complaint is that you are required to stay still for a long time inside of a loud, clunky machine.

The MRI is to be conducted both with and without contrast. This means they will need to insert an IV catheter at some point, and inject a special fluid that the scanner can detect.

I’ve had my blood drawn plenty of times. I had an IV last time I was in the ER. (It was certainly annoying; but no more painful than the aforementioned blood draws.) However, my mind continues to gravitate towards - and get stuck on - this step.

I think perhaps it’s because I’m coming to realize that what rattles me most is the perception that I am no longer in control of a medical situation. The more steps required in a given appointment, the more likely the providers will have an efficient operation going, the more likely they are to maintain a pace faster than I am comfortable with.

Last week I had my nerve conduction study / electromyograph performed.

The nerve conduction study was first. I had a very nice technician; a young man named William. He listened to me earnestly when I explained my anxiousness; and did exactly what I asked: took his time, explained everything, and was honest with me about any discomfort I might experience.

Prior to the test, I had been instructed to wear clothing that would leave my arms and legs easily accessible (e.g. t-shirt and shorts, weather permitting). I settled for a sleeveless shirt and skirt that could easily be hiked up as necessary.

Apparently I chose poorly, as William provided a blanket which which I could cover up and prevent my thighs from flashing immodestly. We actually had a really nice conversation about it; where he explained that this was de facto policy for female patients, and I noted that I wasn’t opposed, merely surprised... Because my experience to date had, of course, been so different.

The test primarily consisted of William applying electrical shocks in various places; and measuring the corresponding signals reaching the ends of my extremities. He described this process as “More annoying than painful”, and that’s an assessment that (barring a few full-power shocks) I agreed with.

(To his credit, William had himself been shocked many times as part of his training; and was both sympathetic and informative as a result.)

After an hour of this, William subbed out and the neurologist subbed in; tasked with performing the electromyograph.

At the end of my ER visit, I was referred to the Neurology department; and forewarned that they would most likely want to order this test and that they were sorry it was so uncomfortable. I had similar conversations with my own provider, and the nurse practitioner I saw at Neurology.

The entire time I was thinking to myself: “How bad could it be”? The information I could find online explained that the test was conducted by inserting a needle into various muscles; although not particularly fun, this was no worse than my usual intramuscular injection regimen. Likewise, I undergo electrolysis every two weeks - surely that was the high bar for outpatient-induced pain?

Ah, well.

The neurologist very kindly ensured that I was prepared and had forewarning, and then inserted the needle in the muscle between my thumb and forefinger. I determined later that the needle was conical in design; which made for a less traumatic wound, but also perhaps more discomfort on insertion. Regardless, it was bearable.

I was not prepared for the next step: the neurologist had to move the needle about; not unlike swinging a television antenna around the room in search of better reception. This had me gritting my teeth. On top of that, I then had to flex the very muscle the needle was in; to take more readings.

This process took what felt like a couple of minutes; and once done, he proceeded to measure a muscle in my forearm, and then my bicep. After that it was the front of my shin, the calf muscle, and my upper thigh.

Again, he was very concerned with my well-being; but also rightly discerned that I was more interested in getting the test over than taking a break - so we powered through. Thankfully, as no issues were found on the left side, it was not necessary to proceed to the right.

I burst into tears as soon as I was outside. I can recall only one other time when a medical provider induced such pain that I was white-knuckling the surface of the exam table: after I inadvertently cut my finger open as a young teen; and the attending doctor had to examine the wound (and by extension, manipulate it while his assistants sprayed saline and whoever knows what else in there).

I didn’t think it affected me that badly; but I had to do my shot yesterday, and it was so hard. My hands were trembling, and on my first attempt, the needle barely even pierced the surface of the skin - I was that afraid of how much it could hurt.

Tomorrow I see my therapist. Our last appointment was, unfortunately, cancelled; so it’s been a while. We’ve been working on all the pent-up misery associated with my pre-immigration medical. That’s another subject swirling around in my head; and likely the root of a good portion of what I’m dealing with at present.

I was railroaded; moved through a medical assembly line like a non-person. Every time I feel as if there’s even a slight possibility that might be happening again, it all starts to come back - fear; the belief that I can no longer protect myself; that I am a target of contempt.

That brings me full circle; back to my upcoming MRI. There are several possible outcomes to this test: the best outcome, of course, would be that nothing of note is found. (This would suggest that the majority of my symptoms to date were caused by inflammation of my neural and nervous tissue; and as the inflammation naturally abides, so too will the symptoms.)

Another possibility is that I might have suffered a rare complication in which one’s own immune system attacks the nervous system. This is slightly more concerning, as one of the defining characteristics is permanent lesions of the white matter of the brain.

There is a third and final possibility: that the virus triggered a minor stroke. Such a thing would be unusual for a person of my age; as with so many other rare phenomena however, COVID has demonstrated exceptionally rare complications are surprisingly common once you are dealing with a virus that thinks little of the blood-brain barrier.

As you can imagine, two of the outcomes are terrifying in terms of their lifelong implications.

I’ll have my answer after Monday. For now, I’ll go back to ruing the godforsaken system of wealth transfer this country mockingly refers to as ‘health insurance’; knowing that I could have most likely had my results in hand much sooner if it wasn’t so absolutely vital to consult a third party on whether or not it was actually medically necessary to treat me.

02:35 AM.

Time to try again.