Hormones!

Hormones are a blessing and a curse. I’ve had it with hot flashes, to put it mildly, and I think it only fair that sometime in her life Angela should be blessed with the same situation, don’t you? Here’s the deal: Way back when, in 1998, when she started on hormones, she got massive doses: 5 full milligrams to my HRT dose of .325 milligrams. That forced teenage puberty. I’ve already written about the joys of having a 57-year-old husband going through the 13-year-old-girl stage. Most of it was fun and funny; I mean how many women get to tell their husband, “go back in there and take off half of that make-up, put on a longer skirt and lower heels?” I also got to give “sage” advice about make-up, perfume (oh lordy, that’s ANOTHER story!), color and hair. It wasn’t long until she became a teenage, and, of course, then she knew everything there was to know, and ‘who the heck was I to be giving advice?’ Ah well. So, back to hormones: since they found the cancer, I have had to be off hormones – completely. That means I'm having Hot Flashes - AGAIN.

When Angela had her surgery, at least for those first couple of weeks afterward anyway, she had to wear a pad. I suppose you could consider that a short-version of a couple ministration cycles. That was it; ho-hum right? That’s okay; but this hot flashes/flushes business is just not fair if you ask me. I figure if I have to have them, so should she, at least sometime in her life, even if it is when she’s eighty.

Life Happens

Goodness, it's been nearly a month since I was on this blog. Believe me that it wasn't because of lack of interest. Time just disappears when one's life has a few small blips that are unexpected. Those same blips make me appreciate the things I love all the more however. Our middle dog, Snowball's Chance, became quite ill, and I rushed her to our trusted vet. She has diabetes. That came up quite suddenly and took us completely by surprise. While being a doctor might have been a fanciful dream of mine when I was a kid, having to poke my dog to get a little spot of blood to test, give shots, and keep her happy through all of that has shown me that it's a good thing I didn't become a doctor. No, I'm not squimish about blood in the least, but I am no professional about getting a little bead of blood to pop up. Who'd have thought that would have been hard? So, blessings on all of you who do it so well!



A family member has been going through dealing with serious depression. I'm a long ways away, but that doesn't make my concern less. It's frustrating to not be able to help other than to give advice and support. Blessings on all those professionals who help folks caught in the spiral of depression.



It's fall, and that means lots of yard work when one has 2.5+ acres to tend to. Mowing is a full day of work, and that's with only a break for lunch. Bless all you pro gardeners out there, I wish I could afford to have you help with this yard more frequently than only when we are away for more than 2 weeks!

Now, all those things are going on, and when one makes a short list, they don't seem like much, but they use up physical and mental time, because they are added to the day to day things we do and already keep us pretty busy. The good thing I have on my team is Angela! She's always there when we are babysitting. I'm not a morning person, so she takes care of the early part of the day. She's also a great relief pitcher when I'm just out of sorts or maxed out on dealing with a toddler. She's the strong arm in the yard, doing all the trimming with chain saws, details like hedges and edging that would otherwise add hours to the job. She is a wonderful support with a nice back rub or back scratch when my emotions are frazzled with worry about my depressed family member. She's right at my side as we deal with our little dog. She takes the hard job of doing the poking at getting the bead of blood, or she handles the monitor portion. The bottom line is she's always there, my loving help mate. The lines of who's job is what and how it's done have all gone away. We share the jobs and projects at hand and we make them special. So, Angela is my ace in hand, so yep, this is another Best Thing about being married to a T!

HAIR - Another Best Thing About Married to a Transsexual

Hair is a tricky thing, isn't it? I've always had bad hair, so it's a good thing I don't have to look at it. I generally swear at it for about 20 minutes each morning and then give up and get on with my life. I figure if someone cringes when I come in, I failed worse than usual. Okay, it isn't quite that bad, but it IS fine, flyaway, thin, and otherwise not exactly the cream-of-the-crop hair. Angela, on the other hand, has great hair - and it's all hers; she paid for it, so it's hers. It always looks nice, even when she's trimming trees, changing oil, working in the woodworking shop on the grandkid's rocking horses (3 - one for here, one for home, and one for sale). It looks good when she gets out of bed, when she is caught in the wind, and when she's all dressed up. She can change the look, the length and the color at a whim. In fact, and here's that Best Thing I mentioned - I got a great laugh this morning, all because of Angela's hair. Our granddaughter didn't recognize her! What was different? Her hair! It was a different wig than she'd ever worn before. As soon as she switched to a longer style, there was no longer a problem. Now, who would have thought that would have happened? I always recognized her, and goodness knows we went through some WIGS - colors, lengths and styles too. When she first started her Real Life Test, the hair was very long and "sexy." Over time, it shortened and became less "I'm ready for my close-up," in style. She can still wow a crowd, trust me on that, but her hair is much more normal. Beautiful, but normal. Okay, I hate it; it's not fair; but it's the way it is. I love her anyway! What am I gonna do? Oh, yeah, I've thought about switching to a wig myself. I even have a couple in their boxes, on the shelf, seldom seen or used, but available. I'm comfortable knowing they are there just in case I'm ever really desperate. It may come to that, I realize, but, for now, I'll just put up with my own problem hair.

Doctor Visits as the Grandparents

It's pretty nice to have someone to help when you have a baby to take to doctor's appointments and shopping and such, don't you agree? So, now that she's a grandmother, I think Angela should be there for all the important facets of our granddaughter's life, especially since, she's the one who volunteered for babysitting duty. I'm just the tag along, right! You believe that don't you? Me neither. Today, the two of us took Brooke in for her shots. The staff naturally assumed that we were "dueling" grandmothers, so we got the, "isn't it nice she has both grandmothers here," bit. We just smiled. They don't know the trans angle yet. We'll see they get a copy of the Discovery Channel Documentary with us as one of the featured folks (Changing Sexes: Male to Female) so none of us are embarrassed next time. You see, neither of the parents wanted to witness their daughter getting her second series of shots. They hated going through the first round, and they think it'll be easier for me because I already went through it years ago with Aud (Brooke's Mom). Angela, as David, was off fighting in Vietnam when our daughter had to have all her shots, so she missed that whole ordeal. So, I thought it was only fair she have to suffer it this time around, don't you agree? I'm happy to report that we all survived. Brooke hardly cried, and Angela didn't faint, so all was well. She's a real trouper!