No that’s not today’s date, it’s the date Dan Sheridan first wrote of him being XXY and not treated for Klinefelter’s syndrome. I can give that a bash, although it was a long time ago I was in the same situation.
I was 16, it was late 1975, December, something like that, I’d just recently left school, well I call it recently, within a year. I did a second year in the 5th Form…. a long time ago. I regularly went back to Wainuiomata College looking for something, don’t really know what. I hung round the Science labs a lot even though I’d left, the teachers never minded, I never caused any problems, helped them out from time to time too, cleaning up after their classes of students who just didn’t get it, Science wasn’t their ‘thing’ making a mess was!
I sort of got a job, sort of, a brief job cleaning high rises with one of my cousins, part time. His whole family described me as “death warmed up” sigh, if only they knew, if only I knew – another ‘that’d be nice.’ I got fired anyway, I could never remember what floor I’d cleaned, or if I’d cleaned the whole floor. High rise buildings have huge floors and you have to have a routine of how to remember where you’d been, and my short term memory was useless, very much the same today – without the medication that is. Ahh damn.
After Christmas 1976 I got a job at General Motors, Trentham, near Upper Hutt. It was a bloody long way from my parents house in Normandale, Lower Hutt – but it was a job and I needed a job I was told by everybody. I remember being taken on a day trip to some place south of London, it was a huge Ford Motor Company plant, they even made their own steel for the cars they built. I thought I might like to work in the car industry for a while. That looked pretty exciting. Trentham wasn’t that exciting, not as exciting as Dagnum, is that the right spelling? That’s how to say it anyway.
The Cleaning industry was not for me, I was headed for Motor Vehicle Manufacture, I’ll be the boss, when I figure out what I’m doing!
But then every day was just a bloody effort, an effort to get out of bed, an effort to have breakfast, an effort to meander down to the railway station to barely catch the right train, and often missed it! They did not like their workers being late, you can be fired for being late! Just a little bit late often enough and you’re gone! Not like school at all, being late for school is an art form, a desirable attribute! Being late for work is suicide. They trick you into thinking you need the money you never needed before you left school, then one day you do actually need money they pay you for building cars, it’s a good trick that!
General Motors did have a doctor, and they did require a medical examination, but the day I was there for my interview the doctor was sick, or something, not there anyway. I felt so relived I didn’t have to have a medical. When I was at Hendon Senior High School, (now just called plain old Hendon School), Golders Rise, Barnet, London, England, I had to have a medical there too, and afterward all the guys talked about having their balls squeezed. Even my very bestest friend talked of the same examination, so it must have been true, it just didn’t happen to me. That was not a saviour, it was a disaster. I could have been diagnosed then…. oh well, that’s my life.
And I was always in trouble of course at all the schools I went to except Wainuiomata College. Wasn’t there long enough to develop a reputation. Was there just long enough to pass a couple of exams and leave. Didn’t really want to go to school, didn’t really want to leave. Didn’t really think about what I was going to do with my life, I just went from day to day oblivious. Well maybe not even that, more like segmented moment to segmented moment, being that I was AD/HD Inattentive Type, but nobody knew that either. Gees so many obvious secrets, you’d think someone would notice something was odd, other than me of them, everybody else.
John Dawson, not a nice guy, he liked to flick with the ends of his fingers other guys balls, that was just so painful. He was my sisters boyfriend, surely he’d not do that to me, I must be safe, surely? Wishful thinking, oh gawd, why do I remember that? Atrophied testes still have nerve endings, take my word for it! They have the same number of nerve endings in a substantially smaller area than normal guys balls, normal guys or normal balls, take your pick. When you get your balls flicked and they’re atrophied you don’t get up for at least half an hour, and you feel sick for the rest of the day!
I was not looking forward to having my balls squeezed, not by anybody, not even me.
John Dawson decided I was too weak to have as a ‘girlfriends brother’ and he decided, from the goodness in his heart (I guess) to train me in Body Building. It was 1 lesson and that was it. I can’t say John Dawson was a particularly patient teacher. I was constantly wondering if I was going to get my balls flicked and trying my best to keep my back or side to him, and he was I think serious about getting me to lift a 50kg weight over my head. That might have worked, if I weighed more than 50kgs myself! I was 5’8″ tall, I had absolutely no muscles, anywhere, I was pale but then so was everybody else who was Caucasian, hairless almost completely, and I weighed 49kgs. I had been evaluated for Anorexia, but found not to be as I WAS concerned about my weight, and Anorexics don’t give a shit!
I also recall having lights shone in my eyes whilst being strapped to a chair and electrodes stuck to my scalp. No idea really what that was about, possibly something to do with the constant migraine headaches I got? I never bothered asking, I suppose I should have, maybe I did? I just can’t remember. I don’t really know what they were looking for but the testing stopped for some reason, and I don’t know what that was either. Maybe I have an account of that somewhere and I can go look for it, if I can be bothered? Apathy is not always a pre testosterone treatment event.
So I worked at General Motors Trentham until November 1976. Amazing I lasted so long. Tiredness was taking over. I was less and less late to get the train to work, but more and more stuck on the train all the way to Wellington after work. I’d just go to sleep, I hardly ever did overtime as I just didn’t have the energy. An 8 hour day working was all I could muster. And it was costing me a lot or money too. I only had a ticket from Trentham to Woburn, not Trentham to Wellington, and I’d have to pay the difference after they woke me up, at Wellington. Then I had to buy another ticket back to Lower Hutt. A minor bonus, Lower Hutt is a separate line, you can’t go from Woburn to Lower Hutt without first going to Wellington, and the bus up Normandale Hill left from Lower Hutt Railway Station. There was no bloody way I had the energy to walk up that hill! I really NEEDED a car.
Social life, what’s that? “If you’re too tired to work, you’re too tired to play!” I think my mum said that? Ahh but, she also said “He hardly ever went out before the diagnosis, and after it he never went out at all.” Socialising was not a priority, it still isn’t. I got much better things to do than socialise.
Did I miss anything out?