The Biggest Decision I've Ever Made

"This is life,
What a f***ed up thing we do,

What a nightmare come true,

Or a playground if we choose,

And I choose."

 -- Offspring, I Choose

Transition has been one set of objectives after another... hair removal, various stages of coming out, therapy, hormones, bathroom issues, work. My life has turned in to a strange series of stepping stones, which I think the rest of the world calls "goals". I have no clue how "normal people" go about their lives like this; I have no idea how I've done it for the past year, but it has definitely improved things for me.

With the bulk of work transition successfully behind me, the next life steps I'm looking toward are marriage, and a legal name change, but I keep asking myself, "What's after that?"

I guess I don't know why there has to be a next step, but it feels like there should be, and I never really planned this far out. Suddenly the road forks in big ways, and I don't know which forks to take.

I hate decisions, especially big permanent decisions. When I was a kid, I came up with all sorts of rationalizations for why my decisions were not important, just to make it through the day without anxiety attacks. Some day I'll write several posts just about all the life "rules" that I came up with during my teenage years, and still use, but for now I'll spare you by sticking to the ones about decisions:

• If I can't decide between two or more options with a reasonable amount of information and time, then all options must be nearly equal, and I may as well just pick one.
• If time and space are infinite, then my decisions are infinitely unimportant.
• If a decision can be undone, and doesn't cause permanent harm, it's ok to try it just to try it.

Unfortunately, the decisions I need to make now are bigger than anything I've dealt with before. Especially with regards to "the" surgery. Rule C above doesn't apply, since it can't be undone. B isn't much comfort now that I'm emotionally invested in my own future (I know, what a weird concept, but it is surprisingly new to me). And A, well, it somehow doesn't seem appropriate to flip a coin or Rock-Paper-Scissors for this one.

Don't get me wrong; if Sexual Reassignment Surgery (SRS) were cheap, with safe and predictable results, I would do it in a heartbeat. Unfortunately, surgery is expensive (around $15,000-$20,000), and comes with many risks and possible complications. For a young and relatively healthy person such as myself, the risks are lessened, but extremely scary nonetheless. This is a major surgery, after all.

There's also the timing issue. Due to the Standards of Care, I can't have SRS until I've been living "in role" for at least a year. Shouldn't this make the decision less urgent? It would, except that $20,000 is not pocket change, and I've failed to save more than a few thousand in the last year. If I want to do this, I'm going to need to start saving aggressively, and even selling a lot of the nostalgic junk I've held on to over the years.

It would be nice if insurance covered any of the cost. The American Medical Association's House of Delegates passed several resolutions in 2008 asserting, among other things, that Gender Identity Disorder is a serious medical condition, that treatment is not "cosmetic" or "experimental" but is medically necessary, and that denying coverage is discriminatory. Most insurers however, go right on with their blanket policy exclusions, or statements that GID is a "pre-existing condition". Of course, I know that's not why most insurance companies don't cover GID. They don't cover it because they don't have to, even though its low prevalence means that paying these costs would likely be much less impacting to their bottom line than most seem to think.

Most reassignment surgeons are also booked anywhere from six months to a year out at any given time, which means I need to know whether or not I'll have all the money quite a while in advance of when I actually have the surgery.

I want the surgery. I know that it would make me feel a lot better about myself, despite the fact that it may only ever matter to me and one other person. In the end, I have to acknowledge that my fears are the biggest thing stopping me, and flying in the face of those fears has gotten me too far to stop now.

I decided a couple of weeks ago that I will definitely be getting the surgery, it's just a matter of when and how. As much as I hate to, I will probably eventually have to ask for some help. For now though, I'm going to see how far I can get on my own.