The Necessity Of Progress

I just sent the following email to my GP's office, as I'm beginning to feel negative things stir again inside my head:


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Dear Sir/Madam,

After my previous appointment with Dr Smit last Monday it appeared that the urgency of my situation had been well understood. The promise to call me as soon as an appointment had been made with both a urologist and gynaecologist at the Twenteborg hospital sounded very welcome to me. Considering that this concerns the alternative for interment on the psychiatric ward of the Twenteborg since there was no place for me there I assumed that this would be dealt with very seriously.

My expectations after Monday were as follows:

• An appointment would be made with these two physicians.
• They would read the summary of my medical case which I sent last Monday and based on it plan examinations.
• I'd then visit for maybe a single intake appointment prior to having the examinations performed.
• All research questions would be answered satisfactory and any surgeries as specified in the summary performed.
• This all would be done within a month, or maybe a bit longer.

Now, a few days later, my expectations are shifting:

• After a lot of urging from my side Dr Smit will manage to make an appointment with these physicians.
• They will not have read my summary or even received. They'll just want to have a look at me.
• A follow-up appointment will be made to discuss the possibility of examinations. Over a month has already passed by now.
• During this appointment they will inform me that they can not/don't want to/don't dare to take on my case, and that I'll have to go back to the VUMC/UMCG hospitals because they have more experience there, even though there they have refused to look at my case, refused to even consider me intersexual, and did my DID and other serious forms of dissociation as well as PTSD form and worsen there.

Which of these expectation is it going to be? I don't know. My experiences of the past 6.5 years tell me that it's going to be the latter as it's always gone like that, and my life is worthless anyway in the eyes of physicians and psychologists. The little bit of hope I still have says that it can still be the former.

I have an enormous need for information, for transparency and honesty. People have treated me these past years as a number, as a piece of dirt. By now I know at least as much about the medical aspects of my case as the average physician, however. Do not treat me like an ignorant patient who doesn't know what she is talking about anyway. Help me. Treat me like a person.

Please,


Maya Posch