Timebomb...

Last Wednesday I went to the Flevo hospital to pick up the background/referral letter for the AMC which was supposed to be there, but wasn't. At least I got a nice hour of driving on my bicycle out of it. That day I also check the AMC site to see whether I could find the endocrinologist, Linthorst, with whom I had an appointment the next day, only to discover that I couldn't find him anywhere on the site.

When I reported this to my housemate, he immediately started looking around for a reference as well and eventually called the AMC to confirm the appointment, which the department he called couldn't. So the next day at around 8 AM he called the AMC again, had the appointment confirmed (backwards appointment system) and got me a real referral letter from my physician (GP). He also called the Flevo where they seemed to be confused as to what was going on, but there had to be a letter for the AMC somewhere in the system. Before I left with Pieter to pick up the referral letter, I got a call from the Flevo hospital informing me that there was no letter after all. Geez.

So thanks to Pieter everything turned out alright after all and I headed by public transport to Amsterdam, to the AMC. Still suffering from the flu, I was quite short of breath by the time I arrived at the AMC, but still managed to arrive nicely on time and waited for Linthorst to call for me, which took about 30 minutes.

In short, he's going to look at all the data the VUMC and Erasmus MC have and will see me again in 5 weeks. Utterly useless in other words, because there's no way I can last another 5 weeks. It's bad enough to wait for next week Tuesday when I get the call from the Erasmus MC, informing me on what they've seen on the MRI images this time. I swear I'm going to hurt someone if they don't see it this time... I mean, I can f****** feel that I've got a ***** vagina and that they just can't accept it even after 3.5 years is enough to make me either want to hurt myself or direct the hatred outwards and blow up a few select hospitals.

The past few days I've begun to work more and more, to the point where my daily output is about a quarter of what it should be on a daily basis. Thursday I couldn't work at all, though. I felt so horrible at yet another confrontation with all the things I hate so much in this life that I even woke up severely depressed the next day. If it wasn't for Pieter emotionally supporting me those days things wouldn't have kind of fizzled out again like this.

While I may appear relatively calm and composed at the moment, I can feel the frustration and pain building up inside me again, which'll reach a climax on Tuesday. Bad news: self-destruction. Good news: first careful glimpses of hope. I can't change anything about it. I'm still nothing and no one until I'm told that I can finally be the person I bloody well know I am.

On a more positive note, I have finally decided to begin with modeling and as related venture photo requests. Enough people have told me that I should be a model and I'd welcome the extra money it might bring that I'm willing to give it a try. You can find more information on it at www.mayaposch.com under the heading in the menu.


Maya