Okay, I'm just... bloody angry at everything and everyone who is making my life miserable. Yesterday I went to the Erasmus MC to deliver the bloody CD with the correct MRI images because sending it by mail would be too bloody difficult for them to handle. Yay for spending 16 Euro when 44 cents would have sufficed, not to mention wasting an entire day on it. Bloody amateurs.
Then in the hospital I encountered a wall of scepticism when the male gynaecologist I was talking to (since De Berg wasn't available, and I sure as hell wasn't going to wait until half-way through this month to deliver the bloody CD) launched into a story about how they probably couldn't help me at the Erasmus MC and that at most they could confirm the German results for me. Then as the final bloody icing on the cake I was told to wait a whole friggin' month (29th of July) for the results.
Sure as hell I'm not going to wait for those slowpokes. I made an appointment with an endocrinologist at the local hospital here in Almere (Flevo) on Thursday next week. They actually allow you to make an appointment online there without having to wait in queue on the phone for 30 bloody minutes. I thought that was nifty. I went to the Flevo today as well to have some blood taken for testing my prolactin levels, which probably haven't dropped much seeing as to how much stress I'm still under.
Stress... things are getting to the point where I can turn into an emotional wreck in milliseconds and will often burst out in tears during conversations and other moments during any day. The amount of mental agony I'm experiencing is enough to make me consider suicide during those moments more and more often, not to mention more vividly. Regarding sexuality, I have to actively pretend now that I'm a convinced asexual person to keep my sanity. I think it's just bloody awful that I've been reduced to this state during 3.5 years and still nobody bloody cares enough about me to help me directly. Yes, I'm looking at you, bloody amateuristic Dutch medical 'specialists'. To me whether any of you live or die doesn't make any apparent difference to my situation.
*takes a deep breath*
One thing I did realize during the conversation at the Erasmus MC yesterday was that I do indeed not need any bloody Dutch specialists or hospitals. I can go to Germany right this moment and get surgery there. No sweat. Just some financial and logistical issues, as I'd have to pay for the surgery myself (insurer would need to be convinced to pay up, and they like to have Dutch specialists tell them what to do), and it's still quite a trip to Germany from here. With those two issues solved this nightmare could be over before even my birthday later this year. What a present that'd be...