So, last week I needed to visit the doctor, but I don’t have a regular doctor, so I randomly picked one close to my office.
Turns out this was no ordinary doctor’s office, it’s a clinic focused on the gay, lesbian and transsexual population of New York. However, as Brendan points out, “we’re all the same on the inside,” so they didn’t turn me away.
Greeting me at the door was a woman who, putting this kindly, I could tell was genetically a male. (But, I’ll give her credit: Had I seen her walking down a dark alley, I’d have no reason to second-guess her she-ness). She checked me in and sent me upstairs. Greeting me there was the floor nurse, who was older and less convincingly female, but in drag nonetheless. Along with a bright red silk shirt, she was wearing a nice diamond wedding band. I bit my tongue and didn’t ask about that, although I know her wedding story beats mine.
Then I visited with the physician’s assistant, who I’m sad to report, was less physically complex — and judging by the conversation, just a straight female like me.
But I left feeling like I had just discovered the coolest medical clinic on the planet. I half expected a disco ball to drop down while I was getting examined, and for Tim Curry to stride in, dressed in his blue doctor’s gown and platform heels, a la Rocky Horror Picture Show.