In more exciting Scribbly related news...
The private healthcare provider I have to use to get HRT because this country is awful have decided to treble the costs of their blood testing service and also demand more (and more expensive) tests, seemingly because they are no longer able to get the expensive drugs they used to funnel everyone towards so they need to recoup those losses elsewhere.
I discovered this when I went to get a refill and was told that I should have sent in a bunch of blood tests they didn't ask for about 10 days ago. Luckily, I am used to their incompetence and have a stockpile, but still.
This was frustrating to discover. This month is going to be tight and long-term I simply can't afford the new normal. So. Time to finally do the thing I have been putting off: involve the NHS in my care.
I did some research and it looks like there are a few steps I can take to try and make this as painless as possible (spoilers: it's still gonna be fucking painful). Step one is to get my name changed by deed poll. Which is cool. I have been living under my new name in all areas of my life except work for the past 8 months or so. It seems to have stuck. I'm happy with it. Lets go.
I had already arranged to see my parents this weekend for a different reason and both have expressed confused support in the past so I thought, hey, maybe they'd appreciate being involved with this. I need two witnesses (who can be literally anyone) and they were involved in naming me the first time around, maybe they'd like to be involved the second time around. I thought it'd be a cute gesture. Something nice.
This was a mistake.
Cue a 30 minute long conversation with my mother where I wind up trying to manage her emotions and explain that, no, I wasn't "messed up" by anything she did during pregnancy because I'm not, in fact, messed up. I'm just trans. And she warns me that my father is going to say some things that will hurt me this weekend. As though he's been planning it and workshopping lines with her or something.
I ultimately had to gently explain to her that this is something that will be happening either way; I was just offering her an opportunity to be part of it if she wanted. I am not asking for permission. Which got some vague mumblings about wanting to support me but it being very difficult because I am named for someone who was important in her life and losing that feels like erasing that person.
So that's great. Here I am trying to decide how to negotiate coming out in the last places I'm not so that I can actually afford to continue keeping on, preferably without blowing up my job because there's no fucking way I'm getting another one that pays half as well, and I'm having to relitigate the coming out I've already done. With the added bonus of wondering exactly what it is my Dad is going to try and throw in my face. I'm actually genuinely curious on that; I suspect the old man has massively overvalued the extent to which I value his input into this. And underestimated my willingness to just cut him out of my life if he's going to be a piece of shit.
Bitch, I'm trying to deal with a ~£1500 per year price hike in my medical care during a period when literally every other bill I have is also going through the roof. You think I've got the time or energy to massage your delicate fee-fees because you don't like that I wanna wear a dress? A dress, by the way, that I can't now fucking afford? Get out of my face.