I got my initial consultation and bloodwork this week.
It was cool. I was asked about my health status, including diseases and medical history, and how long I had known about my identity. Honestly, I almost rambled off-topic, which felt weird. I think it is because I have never said those words out loud to anybody before, so there was a certain uneasiness in my cadence. I can’t quite describe it, but it felt novel getting referred to as she/her and having someone call me Carlie. Getting validated is difficult for someone who is used to downplaying recognition, despite constantly craving it to confirm their worth.
The conversation lasted about thirty minutes, and then I was redirected to a patient advocate for a brief fifteen-minute talk. I will be placed into a program and a pharmacy within their network to reduce the cost of my medication. After that, I needed to make an appointment for bloodwork as soon as possible.
On Friday, I went to my lab appointment. It was a pretty standard noon. I had four tubes of blood taken, along with a throat test without a tongue depressor since they didn’t have one. That was totally okay, though it turns out I have a better gag reflex than I thought. I also took a urine and rectal test, probably because I mentioned I didn’t mind having an STI test. Now, I am waiting for the results and my medication to arrive soon. It didn’t cost me anything because it was fully covered, which is a huge relief.
My grandpa is getting worse. He isn’t allowed to go home anymore. Also, my paternal grandma’s sister is injured.
I think my family loves the number four. My paternal grandma is one of the four daughters of her parents. The second one sells ốc hút (sucking sea snails) in front of our house, and the fourth one is in the hospital right now. (I call them “bà nội hai” and “bà nội bốn.” For clarity, I will call them my second great-aunt and my fourth great-aunt throughout this.)
They are just a few of the people from my childhood who helped raise me. My second great-aunt would often make those snails as a snack for me, and I would ask her for help whenever we ran out of small change for the store. As for my fourth great-aunt, she lived in a humble house with a cottage-like chicken farm and a loud golden Indochina dingo. Every Lunar New Year, my brother, my mom, and I would go to her house to help prepare food for offerings and ancestral worship. Whenever she visited our house, she would bring us chicken eggs so I could eat them on days we didn’t cook. She, much like grandpa, also smokes and often talks about mortality. I wonder if all elderly individuals are like this. All the older figures in my family seem to go through the process of living without a strong desire for either state of the life cycle. That was also the first impression of a younger me when I was distraught by the thought of disappearing.
Again, I don’t think my brother or I have ever shown enough gratitude or appreciation to those who helped us. I feel a need to do more than just call them on the phone, but I also know that I am already taking a lot onto my plate.
It could have been a typical incident, but it feels different this time.
I think self-actualization has unconsciously granted me empathy, not just sympathy. I also understand that I tend to feel guilty because I am critical of myself, especially when reflecting on the time I spent being somebody I was not. I know I’m not apathetic; I was just disconnected. Perhaps it is better for me to continue on this journey, because I can’t love somebody else if I can’t learn to love myself first.
“Home.” I have always found it hard to describe when someone says something “tastes or feels like home.” Where is my home? I have a house, a shelter, a family, a birth certificate, and a document as proof of citizenship, but not a home. Should I create a home by building it, or by seeking one out?
I don’t know. I’m a bit homesick.
I want to go home. But where is my home?
Reconciliation feels like pain when rejection feels like pleasure.
“I was lost Thought that I would never change Waiting on that a call that never came Longing for your love I gave you honesty Not tryna start a war with you
If blood is thicker than water Why are my tears weighing me down? Do you really love me When all of these years you’re not around? From the pain I grow I’m still your desert rose … عينيك في عينيك يا عمري Tes yeux dans mes yeux, tu me la dis (“Your eyes in my eyes, my life”) عينيك في عينيك يا عمري C’est toujours moi, oublie tes soucis (You told me, “It’s still me, forget your worries.”) …
Look me in the eyes please, ما تبكيش (“don’t cry”) From the way you say my name To remind me where it came from From watching you fade to grey Red roses on your grave I didn’t get to say I’m coming home…
I’m coming home to you يا قلبي (“oh my heart”) Your hands are wrapped around my heart Wherever you go I will follow No matter how long or how far I’m coming home…”
