Over the past decades I have learned the valuable lesson that one should most definitely at no point trust another human being beyond oneself. And that even putting trust in oneself can be a very poor idea. One can disappoint oneself, though at least there one has recourse to prevent or deal with such things, as one can learn to detect the subtle ways of betrayal of one's own mind. Not so with other humans.
It's been said many times before that the only person you can truly know is oneself. Share hopes and dreams, or put faith in others and you will get hurt. Being alone hurts, too, but it is a manageable pain next to the agony which others can and will inflict upon you. Suffer alone and at least you know that you can always rely on yourself.
Whether any of the above is actually true is something I do not know with absolute certainty, though there is a part of my mind which insists that it is the absolute, undeniable truth. This while another part of my mind aches for human companionship, maybe even more, but never manages to find solid footing as the former part of my mind keeps getting proven right over and over again. Completely distrusting others isn't paranoia if it's based on many years of bitter experiences.
It is much the same with doctors, psychologists and similar. Why would I trust a doctor after everything they have put me through? What conceivable reason could I have to ever believe again that doctors are there to help people instead of just to torment and murder them? How could I?
As appointments with multiple gynaecologists and a psychologist loom up in front of me I am confronted in a most agonizing way with this struggle between hope and fatalism. Most of my mind insists that each and every one of these people I'll be meeting will hurt me significantly, adding to the trauma and possibly break me completely this time. A small part of my mind still holds the hope that this time will be different. That all of my questions will be answered and all medical problems resolved.
No matter how fatalistic I feel about physicians, however, I cannot deny the simple truth that without interference I may already find myself in a terrible situation within the next months if not weeks as the painful symptoms related to my intersex condition have worsened to the point where I cannot help but wonder whether this is how it feels to be dying. With my lower abdomen just a mass of numb, burning, cramping pain and my right leg having gone almost completely numb twice just the last week already, not to mention the frequent bouts of migraine over the past weeks, I can only fondly remember last year when the pain was relatively mild and limited to just one week but otherwise quite insignificant.
The thought of actually dying frightens me enough to mercilessly kill off any emotions and feelings I may have in my mind and heart. Nothing matters at this point beyond simple survival. That means getting to these doctors as soon as conceivably possible in the hope that they'll find out what's wrong and interfere before anything can turn fatal, my feelings about doctors be damned. If these doctors screw up again... at least it won't be my fault, and I can die in the bitter confirmation that one truly cannot rely on others.
If it does turn out fine...