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The Pink Fog

The pink fog sneaks up on you sometimes.

This morning I was riding the bus and a transgendered woman (probably in her early 30’s) got on the bus. She was on hormones but you could see she was still in that in between stage where the hair is not quite grown in and the HRT had not done all of its full work yet. She may or may not need FFS.

I recognized her immediately because all transgender people are blessed with T-dar.

I started reflecting that she could have been me a few years back. Back before I got married.

After my father died I could have sat myself down and tried to understand myself. I was 33 years old and I knew there was something there but I refused to face it. Instead I let a few months go by and decided that I needed to move on with my life and find a partner to settle down with.

My father’s death had completely floored me.

One day he was spitting a little blood into a handkerchief and 4 months later we were burying him.

He died at home surrounded by his family on a sofa. He weighed probably not more than 75 lbs at the end.

I was the one who injected my father with the overdose of morphine that stopped his heart. It took me a while to get over that.

He was being visited once a week by the hospital nurses who would administer his morphine. There was nothing that could be done for him as the cancer had spread from his lungs to his brain and then to his lymph nodes. He was in constant pain and when the he fell into a certain breathing pattern I was to administer the overdose.

I remember it like it was yesterday. January 5th, 1995 at 7:10 pm.

He could not eat for 3 months. All he could ingest where some cans of ensure and even then he wasted away to nothing.

He was 60 years old when he died.

I put away all ideas of facing my pink fog and just told myself to do what I had to do.

I was introduced to a co worker of my younger sister 3 months after his death and a year after that I was married. By age 35 I was a father to my daughter and by age 37 a father to my son.

My marriage was not good and by age 45 my gender issues boiled over.

I had a tear in my carotid artery which caused a stroke. My 10 day stay at the Montreal General hospital saw my then wife visit me for an hour. I knew things were bad but they were worse than I had suspected.

I was put on blood thinners for 4 months and today I am fine.

The divorce happened in the fall of 2008 and it was the right thing to do for both of us.

N who was a woman I was dating back in 1987 for a summer came back into my life and we lived together for 3 years. We have been apart for over a year now.

I have two beautiful children who I love and yes I still suffer from the pink fog.

I live life one day at a time because I understand more than ever that time does not belong to us and one day we are here and the next day we are gone.

Yes that transwoman on the bus could have been me but I have my own life to lead now.

I will celebrate who I am and accept that I am transgender and while I have not closed the door to transition I will not rush things and just let things be what they will be.

Comments

  1. In reading your post I was thinking that as we go through life we meet and greet people every day and except for some shared information we rarely know what crosses they carry.
    We all have our lives to live and our issues to deal with.
    I wish you the best as you go from day to day.
    I do agree that we do have a well honed sense of T-Dar. My wife thinks that her T-Dar is even better than mine. She is very sensitive to all of her surroundings and she may be right but I am not so sure.
    I also feel the 'pink fog'. For me it is always there but sometimes it is much deeper and denser than at other times.
    Pat

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  2. I wish you the best also Pat. I agree that the disphoria is worse on some days than others and the key is to manage it and not let it become obsessive. I am happier than before but because I have acknowledged that my feelings are entirely justifiable, I am sometimes having a harder time managing my way through the fog.

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