It’s the money. My new job will help, but it’s going to take years to come up with that amount. I have begged my parents for a loan with interest to no avail. I can still hear my dad: “Not one of my dollars will go to this, and that’s final.” They think I’m going through a phase, and I’ll regret any permanent changes. If they only knew how it felt to live in this body, even for a day, they would be writing checks and driving me to the hospital.
