The small waves lapped gently against the shore under the decking as a small tour boat tooted by with its air whistle. The water and the sky looked electric clear through my sunglasses. Kinda unreal in a crystal clarity and gloss. A whole group of tourists stopped in front of the bench while a tour guide gave them a brief description in German and while they didn’t block my sunlight I felt like they were blocking the serenity of this early-summer lunch break. They moved on quickly tottering on in unsuitably warm clothing. The weekend I’d had with Maddie had felt like it had moved on just as quick.
I had been in the heart of the English Rose countryside. You couldn’t get anymore quintessential England. A white pub in a thatched hat, a marquee and horses trotting by on cue. It could have been a film set where the director had shouted “action” and with that – Englishness would descend and as would the sunshine. The upper middle classes would arrive for Sunday lunch with kids and a puppy dog in tow and spotted dick served with thick perfect custard that sparkled gloopy in the sun. The outdoor tables sprawled between the pub and its decorating matching annexed thatched barn. It was idyllic and almost fictional. It was as Bridget Jones as it gets in it’s setting.
Maddie, if you remember, my ex girl friend from several years ago who knows about the gender thing, pulled her mobile out and tapped and swiped at the shiny screen before handing it to me. “This is him.” She showed me a photo of the new man in her life that she had seen a few times. Immediately I spotted that smile on her face that I hadn’t seen in quite a few years, a genuine brief glimpse of happiness. Don’t get me wrong, it doesn’t mean she is beyond ecstatic with the way life was going for her but there was, for me at least, hope in that smile that I hope she can latch on to.
“Alright isn’t he, looks a bit Cambridge-Oxford.” which was the immediate way I could describe him. He had that look that he would be the sort of guy that would be on the river taking part heroically in the traditional boat race or, at the very least, barge polling tourists down the river and bullshitting them with fictional history of the pre-victorian universities.
Maddie looked at me with a smirk at my view of her guy that I didn’t even know. “You know – that look.” I said clarifying the picture, “What’s his education like, I don’t mean that offensively.”
“He’s not degree educated, I think he stopped after Senior school.”
It wasn’t important but I guess I just wanted to know where he was and how he might match up to Maddie’s intellect. It wasn’t hard to be happy for her that she had met someone new and that she might have actually found someone that there might be a future with. Christ, it has been so long since we had been together and even though we still care for each other her happiness is more important than any stupid jealousy that would be beyond my adult view – besides, I’m not in that place and never will be. It did have an effect though. Immediately I felt a little left behind, not with my friendship with Maddie but on reflection of my own life and lack of any relationship or even an encounter in years.
The large tourist boat sat under the pier bubbling the water and filling the air with invisible clouds of diesel fumes that caught the back of my throat and lined my nose. I reached into my bag for the cure of my past depression, at least it could be. I’ve had three lots of base line blood tests from the gender clinic. The first was at my local hospital but by the time the eighteen or so months had passed to get to the front of the queue for the gender clinic in London the results were no longer relevant for them. They ordered another set but when the results eventually turned up one test couldn’t be completed so they ordered another. The second test had indicated my vitamin D was just a little low. I asked my GP about it and he said he would look at the next results. They were even lower.
I had read that low vitamin D can be the cause of many things including depression, and since then I’d even read that aching bones and joints can be a problem. I’d had a letter a week ago from the GP saying that I should book a telephone appointment to discuss the results and one week later the phone had rung in work. I dived out of the office for privacy which oddly meant the hallway behind the main door that was probably quieter than the office.
The signal broke a little as I got to the doorway and then I could understand him. “So your vitamin D is low, I recommend you take a vitamin D supplement which you can get from that Boots just up the road from you.”
“You can get it over the counter can you?” I knew you could get vitamins off the shelf but I thought vitamin D was a special case.
“Yes you can get it at a pharmacy without a prescription.” This of course meant that despite living in Wales and getting free prescriptions this would be an exception. I didn’t mind though, the problem doesn’t seem immediate enough to me to warrant sticking the NHS for a prescription and besides, I’d rather pay the £2.99 than letting them get charged the £8 or whatever it is; we all pay for it in the end.
“You also have results for Testosterone, that’s fine. Prolactin, that’s fine – ” said the GP as the inside door went and a young man with a typical low-rent ironic beard exited the building. “Are you receiving gender reassignment therapy of… sorry to ask… ” it wasn’t my usual doctor and it must have been pretty obvious that the list of several unusual blood tests that included female and male centric hormones.
“That’s ok.” I said, and I explained the whole gender clinic thing and how my results should be passed to an endocrinologist that apparently will write to me, or the doctor with any concerns about my results. Whether I would actually get anything from them was as unsure as whether I or the GP would get anything.
By lunch time I found myself with a rattly bottle of small pills that I would take at least until we have a reliable chain of sunny days that would provide my main source of vitamin D and return to them in the winter to chase away the blues. May be this would be the source of my joint pains when I run sometimes.
I left my waterside lunch home and caught my reflection in a shop window. Wow, did I need to loose weight. I didn’t feel thin or slender, I just felt a bit short and stomach bloating outwards. I really did have to get to a place where I would feel my reflection matched me. I diverted myself into the bakery before heading back to the office and plonked an almond croissant into a thin bag and ignored what I’d just seen.
Until next time.