Claire Cook
07-02-2014, 12:44 PM
I don’t know if this is more appropriate for the CD or TS sections, but I’ll post it here since some of you may be interested. I had my semi-annual en drab checkup yesterday, and he asked me how things were going. I told him that I’m getting a little breast development, but that one of my nipples was sometimes sore. His reply – in the context of the self-medicating that I do – was that I should schedule a mammogram, since some supplements can increase the risk of breast cancer. On the way out, the receptionist gave me the form. “Women’s Imaging” was highlighted, so I asked her if I should dress appropriately (Claire does show up at their office for other reasons). She winked and said “Of course – but they will make you put on a gown anyway.” :battingeyelashes:Any excuse this girl can get to go out…. So I made the appointment for this morning. (Me: “I would like to come dressed as a woman”. Woman at the radiology center: “Whatever you like.” She did ask me if I had implants. :heehee:)
My wife has told me about the experiences of making what she calls “making a boob sandwich / getting her boobs squished” and we talked about it at dinner. “You probably haven’t got enough there for them to squish.” Well, we’ll see.
Conveniently enough, my new prescription sunglasses (my first femme pair) were also ready this morning, so Claire had a double excuse to be out and about. I told my girlfriend Janet (who runs the opticians’s shop) about my upcoming experience and she said “You know, men get mammograms too.” (I didn’t know that.) So off I go. First stop, the receptionist. I hand her the form. “May I see your insurance cards and a photo ID?” I hand her the cards and my Florida driver’s license with an obvious male photo. She took it right in stride, gave me a nice smile and asked that I sit with the other ladies on the right until I was called. When I am called, it is with my male name. (Don’t know how others in the waiting room reacted to that.) OK. I go in with the technician and notice that one room has several ladies; I look that way and the tech says “No, this way, we’re ready for you now.”. I tell her this is a first for me, and she says “No worries, you’ll be fine. Take off your shirt (a short sleeve pink blouse) and your bra.” Off comes the blouse, the bra and my forms. She notices and comments “Ah, making mountains out of molehills.” I tell her I remember the joke about bras and religion, and she says “Yep, that’s the one.” So I say “Well, I hope you can find enough here to work with.” Here I am – wig, earrings, light makeup, minimal boobage and only a long skirt, and she seems totally cool with this. We get to talking, and I say “Now I’m learning more about what women really have to go through.” “Yes, but you didn’t have to deal with menstrual periods.” (Not to mention other women’s issues that I am more and more beginning to appreciate.) To which I replied, “Sure, but I think if I had my choice, I’d rather have been a girl in high school.” She then asked me if I was always called by my male name. “When I’m dressed, I’d rather be called Claire.” At the end, she tells me to sit in the waiting room until either the doctor calls my name.
I’m partway through reading the most recent issue of Elle when one of the assistants comes out and says “Claire Cook, You’re free to go.” (Yes, I picked up on the name!) I look at her, give a big smile and say “I assume everything is OK?” “It is, you have a wonderful day.” Hon, have I ever. My doctor’s office is across street, so I had to run over to thank the receptionist and say that everything went well. “I’m so glad – you have a wonderful day.” As Alice might have said, Wonderfuller and Wonderfuller.
I’m struck by several things in this experience. The first is that I’m glad I've been upfront with my doctor about my CD/TG. The second is how well I was treated today. Perhaps I am lucky and just have been with the right people, or mammogram staff see this often, but I was so impressed with how everyone took my CD’ing in stride. I truly felt comfortable (well, except for the squishing) and natural. Acceptance? Tolerance? Whatever, I was just happy to be me. Thank you all!!! Last thing: maybe I don't need to do this again -- there are pluses and minuses to that.
Now the next step is how to approach my new neighbors; our old ones knew about me and at least didn’t hold my CD’ing against me….
My wife has told me about the experiences of making what she calls “making a boob sandwich / getting her boobs squished” and we talked about it at dinner. “You probably haven’t got enough there for them to squish.” Well, we’ll see.
Conveniently enough, my new prescription sunglasses (my first femme pair) were also ready this morning, so Claire had a double excuse to be out and about. I told my girlfriend Janet (who runs the opticians’s shop) about my upcoming experience and she said “You know, men get mammograms too.” (I didn’t know that.) So off I go. First stop, the receptionist. I hand her the form. “May I see your insurance cards and a photo ID?” I hand her the cards and my Florida driver’s license with an obvious male photo. She took it right in stride, gave me a nice smile and asked that I sit with the other ladies on the right until I was called. When I am called, it is with my male name. (Don’t know how others in the waiting room reacted to that.) OK. I go in with the technician and notice that one room has several ladies; I look that way and the tech says “No, this way, we’re ready for you now.”. I tell her this is a first for me, and she says “No worries, you’ll be fine. Take off your shirt (a short sleeve pink blouse) and your bra.” Off comes the blouse, the bra and my forms. She notices and comments “Ah, making mountains out of molehills.” I tell her I remember the joke about bras and religion, and she says “Yep, that’s the one.” So I say “Well, I hope you can find enough here to work with.” Here I am – wig, earrings, light makeup, minimal boobage and only a long skirt, and she seems totally cool with this. We get to talking, and I say “Now I’m learning more about what women really have to go through.” “Yes, but you didn’t have to deal with menstrual periods.” (Not to mention other women’s issues that I am more and more beginning to appreciate.) To which I replied, “Sure, but I think if I had my choice, I’d rather have been a girl in high school.” She then asked me if I was always called by my male name. “When I’m dressed, I’d rather be called Claire.” At the end, she tells me to sit in the waiting room until either the doctor calls my name.
I’m partway through reading the most recent issue of Elle when one of the assistants comes out and says “Claire Cook, You’re free to go.” (Yes, I picked up on the name!) I look at her, give a big smile and say “I assume everything is OK?” “It is, you have a wonderful day.” Hon, have I ever. My doctor’s office is across street, so I had to run over to thank the receptionist and say that everything went well. “I’m so glad – you have a wonderful day.” As Alice might have said, Wonderfuller and Wonderfuller.
I’m struck by several things in this experience. The first is that I’m glad I've been upfront with my doctor about my CD/TG. The second is how well I was treated today. Perhaps I am lucky and just have been with the right people, or mammogram staff see this often, but I was so impressed with how everyone took my CD’ing in stride. I truly felt comfortable (well, except for the squishing) and natural. Acceptance? Tolerance? Whatever, I was just happy to be me. Thank you all!!! Last thing: maybe I don't need to do this again -- there are pluses and minuses to that.
Now the next step is how to approach my new neighbors; our old ones knew about me and at least didn’t hold my CD’ing against me….