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My blood clot treatment is over. It was over August 7th. I could have gone back on estrogen at that time. Instead I decided to get a tattoo and some more piercings. Things that I wanted for me. Things that I can’t really do while on blood thinners (the piercings maybe, but I wanted to be safe).

I’m very glad I got the tattoo and the piercings. They have helped my mood immensely. I look down at my tattoo (even in its healing phase) and am filled with senses of determination, strength, and joy. It will always be a beacon to me, keeping me going.

There’s a lot of symbolism in the image. The overall image is that of a dragon – an intelligent, beautiful and strong creature. Things I aspire to be. The design is abstract, with both the colours and the line art of the dragon itself. This was important to me for this piece, as it signifies the ways in which I think. The lines are graceful, something else I try to be.

The semi-colon has become a significant symbol for suicide survivors. In literary terms it allows an author to continue a sentence, when he could have ended it. As you readers know, I attempted suicide some 22 years ago, and I survive 3 people in my life (including my best friend) succumbing to suicide. The beautiful tail of the dragon points to the spot where I held my box cutter, just barely breaking my skin, for half an hour, as I cried kneeling on the floor.

The piercings don’t have as much meaning to me. I just have wanted them for a long time. And I love the earrings I got…

I thought I was doing well. In many ways I am. In many ways I’m not.

A few bad/sad things have happened over the last couple weeks, and I’ve not been handling them well at all. I’ve been hurting quite a bit. Crying still comes really easy, but it’s not helping like it did. I’m not able to resolve anything, and I just circle around the feelings. My frustration builds really fast again, and I wound up punching Sunday night.

This is something I’m not supposed to do on blood thinners. I bruised 2 knuckles pretty bad. One of the hardest punches I’ve ever thrown at a lamppost. I couldn’t close my hand for a bit after. I’ve been trying not to beat myself up over doing this. It happened. I’m not proud of it, but I shouldn’t be ashamed of it either.

My emotional landscape is completely foreign to me right now. I’m not how I was before hormones, and definitely not like how I was on hormones. It’s some twisted set of both paradigms clashing together. And I really don’t know how to cope with anything. The thing that’s worked best is a particular friend that’s really come through for me twice with a walk along the water and conversation.

Other friends have been helpful too, very helpful. But this friend has a way of slowly changing the conversation and before I know it I’m smiling and laughing. But not so fast, that I don’t have time to talk out my problems. It works very well. It’s not a fix, but it’s a good stop gap that I will take any time I can get it.

The plus side of all this is that I’m not spiraling. I circle, but I’m not piling shit on myself trying to make myself worse. So, that’s good. I just want to go back to feeling like ‘me’. I want the comfort of emotions that I’m used to, and that were finally working properly.

I have about another 2-3 weeks without my lovely estrogen. This is now entirely my doing though. I could be back on hormones right now. I am getting my tattoo and my extra ear piercings before going back on blood thinners (and thusly, estrogen).

I will also be talking to my endocrinologist about alternate androgen blockers. What I’m taking now is not suppressing testosterone at all. Either I get something different, or I get an orchiectomy before my surgery.

This period of time off of hormones has definitely prepared me for my surgery where I’ll be off them for 3 weeks. That will be a walk in the park compared to what I’ve experienced with my blood clots. I look forward to the pain of healing, the nausea I’ll feel from the extent of the surgery. It will be nothing compared to these last 3 months.

– Jessica

I spent Tuesday and Wednesday in the hospital being diagnosed for swelling in my right calf/ankle. After answering the same bloody 5 questions at least 10 times, 2 blood tests, 1 ultrasound, 1 ECG, 1 IV, 1 CT scan with flourescent dye added to my blood and 12 hours in emergency over those 2 days, I was diagnosed with 2 blood clots. 1 in my leg, 1 in my lung.

This is life threatening. Clots can break away and cause aneurysms or pulmonary embolisms. Both of which can be fatal. The clot in my lung is a pulmonary embolism. It may have come from a clot in my other leg.

I probably should have gone to the hospital a few days earlier. I already suspected a blood clot myself, but felt I was being a hypochondriac. It was just a pulled muscle. Even though I didn’t actually strain it. Then the swelling started. This I passed off as a side effect of physio treatment the day before. Then the swelling got worse, and the pain got worse, and I got nauseous from said pain.

Finally, I gave in to seeing someone. Teresa drove me to the physiotherapist’s office, where he promptly sent us to the ER.

I’m on rivaroxaban. 3 weeks at twice a day, then another month at a lower rate. The pain and swelling are a bit better, but still annoying. Still a bit short of breath.

I had been very stoic through this whole process, but after the CT scan I started to break down. I just wanted to curl up in a ball on my girlfriend’s lap and cry and cry and cry. Then when I got told to stop hormones, I lost it in the hospital. Then I got discharged, and bawled again in the car. Then, again, while driving home.

The girlfriend came over last night (this is a new girlfriend by the way – story later) to console me, distract me, and bring me food. We watched a horrible movie and made fun of all the various fantasy tropes that were present. Managed to laugh a lot and not cry until I went to bed. Thank you hun!