A spawn is defined as the following “the product or offspring of a person or place (used to express distaste or disgust)” by dictionary.com. This definition will come in handy as you continue to read this blog. As discussed in previous blogs, I have never had a child. Therefore, I do not have any spawn, or do I?
I have been on hormone replacement treatment in the form of pellets for over two years. And outside of the fact that they hurt (they cut you open and insert a small rod-shaped pellet into your upper buttocks) they are glorious little gifts from God that restore all things back to Fairytale settings where the birds chatter, squirrels bring you presents and the seven men that you live with do all the chores in the house. My life was made anew when I switched from oral hormone medication to pellets in June 2016. The fog lifted, the rain clouds dispersed, and the depression left my body like evil spirits evacuate a body during an exorcism.
However, yes however, there is always a however, the last 6-8 months I have been having problems. Each time I get a reup (that is what I call it when I get a new pellet inserted) or a refuel (because I am getting refueled so that just makes perfect sense to call it that) I have been having problems with my mental health. To put it bluntly, I lose my shit. Most times I go manic and I go on this starlit path filled with adventurous ideas of all things creative that I can design, bake and glue together with my handy dandy glue gun (it’s amazing how much you can do with a glue gun…. Funny autocorrect fixed glue gun to glue fun and that is EXACTLY what it is!) There’s the anxiety and the racing thoughts, the paranoia, “hummingbird” is in full effect and several other side effects not excluding insomnia. But, my estrogen levels are gradually getting back to where they should be, so life should be rainbows and unicorns and all things including sprinkled cupcakes. Although, this is not the case.
Over the last six months, my estrogen has been high, not sure if it’s actually very high, or just high, but they are up there in the clouds talking to St. Peter and such asking about what the entry requirements are for the Pearly Gates. This would mean that I have been a bit unstable, mentally. A month ago, I received a testosterone pellet because my body soaks up testosterone like a fat kid likes cheese. My estrogen was still up there talking to St. Peter, so we did not add any more, no sense adding more and going to the top level of heaven and chatting it up with Jesus, we’ll save that for another day. It was determined that we would just add in the testosterone.
As usual, it hurt, and my ass was sore for a few days, but it always gets better, so I figured things would get better. Well, things did not stop hurting but I was distracted by getting launched into a month long manic episode that I ended up somehow forgetting that I literally had a pain in my ass. After several trips to the psychiatrist and doubling all my medication, I started the decent and landed back on the green grass on planet earth. It was then, that I called the doctor and requested to be seen about this now bulging pellet trying to escape my body by gnawing through my skin.
Hence, the spawn of Satan a.k.a. the testosterone pellet from a month ago. Turns out I am one of the few who’s body rejects their pellets and attempts to push them back out of the skin. This would explain the pain and discomfort that I was feeling. After nearly thirty minutes, the doctor was able to get the oversized rice rod out of my skin. I was butterfly stitched up and had a padded suture on my upper buttocks. I knew that I was still numbed up, but I was already starting to feel better. The Spawn of Satan had been removed and I did snap a picture of this little bugger because I just had to be able to share, should it come up in conversation. “Oh you have adorable Irish twins, here’s a pic of my pellet that I lovingly refer to as the spawn of Satan. I think it has its father’s nose.” You know those, situations.
I am sore today, but in less pain than yesterday. I must wait to find out what my levels are, so we can make an action plan of how to move forward with my hormone replacement treatment. As with all things, I know that each day will pass, and I will get closer to the place where I need to be, and now I no longer have the Spawn of Satan along for the ride, so it must get better, right?