It’s been a little over a year since I saw the surgeon for the top surgery consult. A week or so ago, I thought it couldn’t hurt to call and see how much longer the waitlist was for me. After insomnia and restlessness made a mess of the last week — the memory’s even more shit when “sleep” is just “lying semi-awake in the dark” — I finally got some good, deep, immersive-dream sleep yesterday and remembered to call.
The receptionist who answered said the surgeon was going through the clients he’d seen last October, and she could probably give me a surgery date now. I was cautiously optimistic as she went to fetch the surgeon’s booking schedule, then elated as she said that yep, she could book my date: the first week of March.
I’m so relieved. The dysphoria’s been bad enough that I need to have my chest covered all the time so I can’t see it; at one point after a shower, I clawed at my skin in semi-meltdown because I couldn’t stand seeing it, even peripherally. I look forward to the day I won’t have to see them anymore, and instead see part of the body I need to have for my own mental well-being. The recovery’ll suck at least as much as the hysterectomy’s did, but it’ll be worth it.
Speaking of mental well-being, I put in the legwork last week to get started on medical cannabis. A friend let me try some low-strength Hempworx oil, and its effects were noticeable and beneficial enough at the time for me to consider going further. Unfortunately, Hempworx lied when they said they’d continue shipping to Canada after marijuana became legal, so local options became a must.
I mentioned this desire to my psychiatrist, who told me there happened to be a clinic for it in the same building as her office, so after our appointment I immediately set out to see them. I received a nice information packet about the clinic, their procedure and some general cannabis info, and had to fill out a questionnaire online before the intake appointment. That appointment consisted of three stages: an intake worker, a doctor trained in cannabis research to ensure there’d be no contraindications with existing meds, and a cannabis specialist who knew about each company providing it, ingestion methods, terminology, and so forth.
The entire thing was pleasantly surprising. They took my pain seriously and without judgement, which is exactly the opposite of what I’m used to, and were shaking their heads when I told them about how other doctors and even my previous disability workers had treated me: my last temporary disability worker had “goes into victim mode” in my file notes, for fuck’s sake, and my rheumatologist doesn’t believe fibromyalgia exists. (At that, the doctor asked, “Is he an older guy?” which I confirmed, and we both nodded ruefully.)
All in all, oils will be better for my chronic conditions, since their effects last longer but take a little longer to kick in, and I can vape the dry herbs and flowers for more immediate relief if necessary. Turns out conduction atomisers compatible with my vape mods exist, so I can use that and save money instead of buying another unit altogether. The company whose products I chose take 1–2 weeks to process the paperwork, with the doctor’s recommendations and my medical information sent directly to them so no other doctor visits are required, and they send me my stuff via courier to my door — which, no lie, was a big seller for me.
If the stuff works half as well for me as non-recreational strains have for another autistic friend, and lets me cut down on other, liver-damaging pills, I’ll be so fucking happy.