Queerly Beloved by Diane & Jacob Anderson-Minshall

Author:Diane & Jacob Anderson-Minshall [Diane & Anderson-Minshall, Jacob]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781626391055
Publisher: Bold Strokes Books
Published: 2014-05-01T03:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

Androphobia

JACOB (SUZY)

As I transitioned, I wasn’t prepared for the level of androphobia (abnormal and persistent fear of men) among straight women. I understand that, at night, I might appear to be just another potential predator, but I’m surprised when it happens over the phone. Men are suspect even there.

I’m talking to an advice nurse. To a certain degree, my “hetero” marriage has opened up access to Diane’s medical professionals. If it relates to an illness of some kind, like the flu, the word “husband” seems to grease the wheels and unlock doors.

If, on the other hand, I’m calling to discuss an injury, say my wife’s broken toe, suddenly that same word causes everything to instantly shut down, like prison lockdown after an escape attempt. Rather than friendly and helpful service providers, suddenly I’m speaking to a very cold, suspicious, and tight-lipped regulator who demands to know why my wife can’t come to the phone herself.

I say she’s in an important business meeting and won’t be available at all today and maybe not tomorrow either. I don’t go into a long explanation about Diane asking me to call; nor do I detail the inner workings of magazine publishing or the meaning of the word deadline, or how missing said deadline with a printer can translate to costing tens of thousands of dollars. This nurse doesn’t know me, doesn’t know Diane. The bottom line is that often Diane won’t call the advice nurse or the doctor’s office; she’ll keep limping or bleeding or whatever the problem is and work twelve-hour days until the magazine is done.

The advice nurse doesn’t ask for an explanation, but she’s clearly doubtful.

“She needs to come in,” she announces.

“Okay, what if she can’t get to the doctor? What should she do in the meantime?”

“She needs to come in,” she repeats.

“Of course, but in the meantime? We wrapped her foot—”

“We don’t like the toes taped to each other.”

“Okay.” I’m thrilled just to get a new answer. “The broken toe isn’t actually taped to the other toes. We wrapped her whole foot.”

Silence.

“Well, what would you tell someone who couldn’t get to the hospital?”

“I’d tell them they needed to come in.”

“What if they were trapped in a remote forest and couldn’t get out?” I persist, imagining circumstances where a doctor wasn’t immediately available.

“Then I’d tell them to keep their leg up and put ice on it, and get to a doctor.”

Clearly this woman has never experienced the woods, remote or otherwise. I’ve never come across an ice machine in the middle of a forest. And she seems unfamiliar with the possibility that medical assistance might not be close by.

What if we were still living in ranger housing in the Santa Cruz Mountains? There’s not a doctor, hospital, or medical clinic within a thirty-minute radius. That’s why rangers like me were trained in emergency medical response.

During winter storms it wasn’t uncommon for trees to come down and block driveways and even the main road. Decades ago the residents of Silicone Valley

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