I Recognize That PC On The Left! It’s Peter Dickison’s Orac³; Which Was Modeled After The Chassis

Oh no

I was doing my progesterone shot last night and the plunger in the syringe got stuck 20% of the way in. I really put some force behind but, but it wasn’t moving and I was terrified that if it did suddenly give way I’d dump the entire contents of the syringe into my thigh in a split-second.

(I’m not sure of the exact ramifications for doing so, but my nurse practitioner was quite clear during instruction that this was an undesirable outcome.)

I really didn’t want to toss the rest of the progesterone (it’s not like I had more on hand), so I withdrew the syringe and switched to a fresh needle. Poked myself again, depressed the plunger, and...

...The syringe got stuck again.

As classic “Well, what the hell do I do now?” scenarios go, sitting there with an immovable syringe sticking out of your thigh has to count pretty highly, I reckon.

I wiggled the plunger a bit and applied more force than sensible, and finally the damn thing overcame whatever the resistance was and immediately dumped half the load (so I guess I will find out why that’s a no-no in short order). Everything proceeded smoothly from there.

I’m still nonplussed as to what the issue was. A manufacturing defect in the syringe itself perhaps? Some kind of sediment in the progesterone blocking the barrel of the needle? I have no idea.

I just really hope that this doesn’t happen again...

Update 1: I talked to my friend about this and her first go-around, the needle disengaged from the syringe while it was in her leg. OMG!

Update 2: I had more soreness than usual but was otherwise okay; so I’m guessing that firehosing half the dose didn’t do too much damage, thankfully.

Another Test

It came to my attention this afternoon that a colleague had left the office on Friday, feeling unwell; and come Saturday had tested positive for COVID. This individual is someone that works two offices down for mine and is often in close proximity.

This meant, of course, that it would be wise of me to go get tested again. The last time I was tested, it triggered a lengthy flashback.

(As always, I stress: my response to these kinds of medical scenarios is a result of my PTSD, and not an indictment of medicine. Get tested, get vaccinated, protect yourselves and others!)

Anyhow: I wasn't super thrilled about this turn of events, and let my boss know that I was heading out and most likely would not be back for the day. He did very kindly point out that we had some test kits in-office (allegedly; nobody seemed to know where); to which I countered that the last thing my coworkers needed to see was me in tears.

Fast forward: the system for registering an appointment at the test site worked well this time; and apart from a small hiccup (they had moved a mile down the road to a new location), everything was pretty much the same. The technician asked me to sit in the car and came back with a swab and sample vial.

Now, here's where things differed slightly: when my spouse was initially tested (all the way back at the start of the pandemic), the swap took the form of an elongated Q-Tip. Having this pushed all the way to the back of the sinuses was unpleasant; but I understand the discomfort subsided quickly as soon as the test was completed.

When I was tested for the first time, the swap had clearly been updated with comfort in mind: there was a thin, flexible plastic stem with a small, soft, sponge on the tip. It wasn't inserted fully into the sinus, and frankly, there was no pain or discomfort to speak of.

This is what I was expecting to see again; so imagine my unpleasant surprise when the technician withdrew from its sterile wrapping what I can only describe as a fiercely-bristled pipe cleaner.

The technician proceeded to tell me to hold my breath for five seconds, which was also a new and highly discouraging change in procedure.

I warned her that I might be somewhat unresponsive after the test was administered and not to take that personally; and she understood. Then came the part where I tilted my head back, closed my eyes, and felt this monstrosity enter my left nostril. The technician counted to five while sawing this thing back and forth along every side of my sinus cavity.

To be clear: I am no stranger to unpleasant sensations (which I will note shortly). This, however, was absolutely misery-inducing. I broke down crying the moment the technician turned away from me.

Six hours later, and my sinuses still hurt. They itch, constantly; and my nose has been running all evening. I cannot possibly fathom which person thought it was a good idea to take what was already an invasive, annoying test - and make it infinitely worse.

Office space

My company has decided to rearrange our current layout; so I went into our location today for the purpose of conveying the contents of my current office to my new office.

Amongst other items, this includes some solid wooden shelves and a two-piece desk. These are not light items.

In the past, I've been able to move these things myself (albeit with great effort and probably minus OSHA approval); brute-forcing them onto a dolly and wheeling them to their destination.

Not this time around though! I just didn't have the strength. I was able to get some of the smaller pieces by myself, but when it came to the main part of the desk I had to rope our network engineer in for assistance.

(And he made it look so easy! At one point he had to take the weight of the whole thing while I moved and it didn't phase him in the slightest!)

It's fascinating because I don't actually feel, in any way, shape or form, weaker; but the evidence absolutely speaks for itself. As I've noted before - there's a serious danger that I will injure myself because I can't estimate my own strength properly anymore.

In addition, I ran into an older member of our organization. The last time we met I was in a dress, and he gave a sort of weird half-chuckle / smile that could be interpreted as "Good for her!" or "That's hilarious".

This time around, I said hi and he responded with "Yes, sir".

I can't tell yet whether he's just struggling to adjust or holds some actual, maladjusted views; but now I'm kind of wondering.

"Once is happenstance. Twice is coincidence. The third time it's enemy action." - Auric Goldfinger

Guess I will wait for a third time and see what happens!

A newfound pain

...Ruining a perfectly good item of clothing by accidentally sticking your thumb through the lacy part. I’ve done this twice now! Girl clothes are awesome; but definitely more delicate than I’m used to...

My friend has a new album in the works; and released a preview of the title song: Sleepyhead. It’s an achingly beautiful piece; go take a listen.

Malapropism

Recently my singing instructor has had me practicing runs (i.e. moving up and down notes within a single sung word). It's a lot of fun, and especially welcome given that it allows me to practice while working around the lingering effects of the cold I caught six months ago.

My instructor is all about helping me understand precisely which parts of my vocal system I'm engaging at any particular time; and that end she asked me: "When you are singing this run, where do you feel it?"

"Kind of... at the back of my throat?" I answered.

"Ah, okay. So you feel it in your..." - and I saw the gears whirring - "...vulva"?

At that point our eyes met; and we both burst into laughter.

"Uvula! I meant uvula!" she yelled.

Now my instructor can't wait to share this particular mix-up with her whole family; and I get to tell people that there are apparently even more esoteric singing techniques than I was originally aware!

Struck a nerve

Every two weeks I inject estradiol into my upper thigh muscle. There are six sites to choose from - the inner, middle, and outer surfaces of each leg - which I rotate through.

I'm a fan of middle thigh area. It's very easy to get a nice, perpendicular needle insertion. (The inner and outer thighs are trickier, often necessitating holding the needle at an angle or in a way where my own hand obscures the target.)

My last shot was into the right middle thigh. Perfect! I readied the syringe, swabbed the skin with an alcohol wipe, let it dry, pulled the skin taught, darted the needle in and screamed.

See, you can't really see what's under the skin; so sometimes you hit something on the way in that you shouldn't - like a blood vessel. I have an unerring ability to find blood vessels. It sucks, and it's unpleasant, but bearable.

This wasn't a blood vessel. It was a nerve.

There was probably a good minute or so of straight crying - needle sticking straight up out of my thigh, a tiny monument to my act of self-sabotage. Eventually I calmed down enough to inject the syringe contents and clean up.

I get that these sorts of things will happen when you routinely stab yourself on a fortnightly schedule but all the same, that was an experience I hope never, ever to repeat!

There have been a number of particularly insightful additions to this chain. Courtesy of crazy-pages:

...Relative to the dollar value of labor, video games are cheaper than they've ever been. It's just that the inequality distribution of wealth has changed so much, and cost of living along with it, that the cost of games relative to people's discretionary income after necessities has skyrocketed.

...And robotsandfrippary:

That's where your $60 goes. To the corporation and CEOs, not the devs... It's killing games, and none of us know what to do about it because we're busy scrambling to find work and feed our families.

...And nerdlingwrites:

Approximately 9,000 people in the industry were laid off in 2023, and so far this year there's an estimated 8,000... I think we've gone past crash, and now the entire industry is imploding.

The pandemic was (I know, I know; Apollo's gift of prophecy) a once in a lifetime event; and for all of the disruption, devastation, and deaths it caused, some industries - such as those offering entertainment at a time of mass quarantine - made out extremely well.

Unfortunately, America's particular brand of short-term, shareholder-centric capitalism demands that the Lines Goes Ever Upwards (even when the explanation for a much-needed correction is as simple and easily-digested as "We experienced an unexpected windfall due to one-time exterior circumstances").

This is why the price of games goes up, even as consumer purchasing power goes down; why massive layoffs are occurring across multiple industries (even as companies report record profits against a background of sustained economic growth).

The entire system is sick, and growing sicker; and until such a time as we stop treating share price as an objective measure of value, it will grow sicker still.

As for what this means for the video game industry at present? Hard to say; although this wouldn't be the first time the medium has nosedived due to mismanagement on the part of major players.

Historically, the industry has bounced back from prior crashes (and often with new captains at the helm). I imagine however that this will bring little solace both to the developers that have lost their jobs, and the consumers that can no longer afford to engage in this pastime.

Unironically I think we might run into another video game crash like back in the day

Pain tolerance

Last week I happened to have an electrolysis appointment, followed immediately by a laser hair removal appointment.

Electrolysis involves permanently destroying the roots of undesired hairs with a fine-tipped, superheated needle. It smarts; but is generally bearable.

Matters change however in areas of the body with high numbers of nerve endings - like the upper and lower lips. Which is where the hairs are. On my face.

My electrologist is very aware of how much discomfort this procedure produces; and does her best to minimize the pain. All the same: it's common for her to end sessions with the phrase "You can breathe now". It's a literal instruction; in the last few minutes I will hold my breath in an attempt to ignore the pain.

(I cannot, alas, grit my teeth; as this would flex the very muscles underlying the areas my electrologist is working on.)

At my laser appointment, I discovered that my regular technician had left the clinic; and that my session would be conducted by a replacement.

Now, said technician was incredibly nice and did everything she could to put me at ease. (This was wise; it takes courage as a trans person to disrobe around strangers.) No complaints there.

I also know that in my prior sessions, I had the laser practically set to "Max". (The settings aren't quite that simple, mind you; I understand that the technician can control the size and intensity of the laser pulse, and the wavelength and how far it penetrates into the skin.)

High settings result, of course, in more discomfort. The treatment works by (once again) superheating the roots of unwanted hairs; albeit in patches approximately the size of a quarter. Where electrolysis involves singular, painful pokes in the skin, laser hair removal is more akin to sudden explosions of pain below the surface.

If there's no hair in the area, you feel nothing. If there's a lot of hair, it can really sting. (God help you if there's a long, ingrown hair snaking its way under the skin!)

I let the technician know I was okay with higher settings. (Another consideration: laser is, on a per-hair basis, extremely fast; but it is also not cheap. Turning down the power is an exercise in avoiding discomfort now, only to have to pay for additional treatments later; it's not a compromise I was willing to make.)

Well, I don't know what she set the machine on - I'm currently guessing some kind of wavelength with greater penetration of the skin -because she zapped my collarbone (where there is notably no visible hair) and I about screamed.

The only time I've felt laser light-related pain of this magnitude was (a) the aforementioned ingrown hair scenario, and (b) when my technician used a new machine that was later determined to be "Running hot".

(The latter actually left a couple of burn marks on the skin; they looked like dark splotches. Given their unfortunate location, one could posit - most inaccurately - that I had known carnal relations with a cephalopod.)

As painful as those experiences were, they were also isolated (perhaps one zap in every ten or twenty). This was just... constant. I was glad to be wearing a mask, so that my technician could not see me clenching my jaw; beads of sweat were running down my forehead. It was bad.

I came within a hair's breadth of tapping out and asking my technician to dial the power back; but again, could not stomach the cost. (A prevalent issue: American healthcare is needlessly costly; trans healthcare more so, do it's perceived elective nature.)

Things actually got better until we got to the lower inside portion of my left forearm, which again was agonizingly painful. I have no idea why this was the case - there's virtually no hair there; there were no visible marks left from the procedure.

(Sometimes you find small, yellow bruises from small blood vessels that were accidentally zapped; no evidence of that here either.)

It's still sore in that area; four days later. Whatever happened there was clearly non-trivial, and something I will bring up with my technician next time I see them. (This is also a prevalent theme: me trying to power through things I bloody well shouldn't.)

Anyhow, I mention all of this solely to state that the stupid pipe-cleaner swab they used in today's nasopharyngeal test was somehow worse than both being stabbed with electricity and shot full of lasers, and that I hope wherever the people are that designed the blasted thing, that their day is ruined!

After months of silly overwork, I finally got to see my stylist! I feel so much better now that my hair is both multicolored and a more manageable length. 🙂