Getting my hands on this little vial almost gave me a breakdown.
There’s a long, long story behind it which I don’t have any capacity to put into words right now, beyond saying once again I have been broken by the ‘healthcare’ system.
And rescued — however temporary — by people who prioritised getting me what I needed in the moment I needed it. And for that, I am truely, deeply grateful to the staff and doctors at Praxis Katzenstein in Bürknerstraße, Kreuzberg who took care of me last Monday. They go in the same book as the doctor at Three Lamps, Ponsonby, Tāmaki Makaurau (Auckland) whose name I’ve long forgotten, and Dr. Darren Russell in Carlton, Naarm (Melbourne), both of whom saved my life — and I do mean that literally.
The amount of different oestrogen drugs I’ve been on in my life, the sheer fucking dismal variety of pills, other pills, different pills, more pills, still other pills, patches, gels, different gels, almost got implants once, injections, different injections, and the only ones of all that shit selection which do the job are injections. I was forced to stop injections a couple of years ago, after being on them again only for a couple of years, because the import cost pushed them up to around 200€ per month. Second time that had happened. The dose was weak as fuck anyway, and I kept on running out of places to inject because each spot needed at least a two-week break between being used anywhere near again. I think that last time was maybe fourth time I’d been booted off injections because they suddenly stopped being available.
Earlier this year I found that Schönhauser Apotheke in Danziger Straße do compounding, making their own, which can even (if you’re lucky) be got with a regular prescription for only 10€ a 3–ish month vial. And after waiting many, many months for an appointment with my endocrinologist, I got fucked over late-Sunday night with a cancellation of my Monday morning appointment. Hence the freakout which got me walking my arse to Praxis Katzenstein that day.
It was a pretty fucking diabolical week after that. But, two trips across town to the chemist, finally getting hold of the vial, and then waiting for Sunday night — my historical night for injections — to draw up a dose, I shot it into my butt.
I love being on oestrogen injections. Best fucking drug ever. (Along with progesterone, obviously).
I also know I’ll have to go through all this shit again. Short-term getting a proper prescription, longer-term when this supply dries up or germland or some other country makes it impossible. This is an inevitability because it’s happened more times than I can quickly remember in the almost 40 years being on what is a life-saving drug for me. And an inevitability for every trans woman, girl, femme, non-binary person who needs it. It feels like forced detransition every time. Fucked way to be made to live.
