Thursday, 30 July 2015

On seeking help, finding pain and running away

Today was the appointment I had been working towards this year ever since I sent that first email to my family doctor, containing a desperate request for help with my medical situation. Now, months later, my body has developed all of the symptoms of a pregnancy beyond the actual zygote, embryo or related. I have undergone two sets of MRI scans and multiple blood tests. I have also learned that for all intents and purposes a rudimentary vagina is being discarded as 'not a vagina'.

It was a bit of an unusual appointment regardless, as it coincided with me being sick since Tuesday, with something which very much feels a bit flu-ish, but probably has a significant stress and general emotional exhaustion contributing to it as well.

In hindsight we could have skipped the trip to the gynaecologist, as his findings contributed very little to the report my family doctor received beyond the findings of the blood tests. The radiologist's report was very brief as well, just listing his basic findings, including the presence of a normal penis, tiny prostate and most importantly no vagina. This irritated me, because during the two conversations I had with this radiologists he had made it clear that with the first scan he had simply seen a normal vagina. Only with the second scan had he seen that this vagina doesn't have the normal lining of tissue on the inside.

At the very least one could have the decency to call this a rudimentary vagina, as the surgeon who operated on me four years ago in Hamburg had done after first cutting me open to explore the area in question. Such a terse description from this radiologist then doesn't help much. At any rate the images of the second MRI scan should still be usable for a surgeon. This would seem to be the next logical step as neither the radiologist nor the gynaecologist were able to explain just why my body is showing all the hormonal signs of being pregnant.

Beyond this, my family doctor and I also discussed the other pains I'm experiencing. The one in the vaginal area is also something which a capable surgeon should be able to explain when surgery is being performed. The pain in the front of the lower-right abdomen worried my doctor somewhat, as it's right in the location of where the appendix is located. It's possible that it has been inflamed for a few years ago. Not seriously enough to cause acute appendicitis, but enough to cause pain and explain the sensitivity to touch in that area. I'm supposed to make an appointment with a specialist who will then examine this further, if only to exclude this possibility.

That then basically leaves me and my doctor with the seemingly almost impossible task of finding a surgeon who is well-versed in reconstructive surgery, preferably related to intersex conditions. I have one name of a possible surgeon at this point, but the thought of actually going through with contacting said surgeon fills me with a feeling of complete dread. It's something I can do, sure, but only by deadening all emotions and feelings while suppressing any and all memories of previous, traumatic attempts. It's not a matter of hope, or the expectation of finding help, but the mere going through the motions of a senseless ritual with always the same useless outcome.

After today's doctor's appointment I do again find myself struggling against suicidal forces inside my psyche. The feeling that I cannot trust anyone, never rely on anyone and never will get help or answers. That I'll forever feel like this freakish horror, pieced together with random body parts without any sense or reason. Just a cruel joke for the entertainment of psychopaths and the like, as I slowly inch my way once more towards just ending this miserable game of survival.

Ignore it. Run away from it. Ignore this body. It will all be fine. Just pretend it's all not there.

The one thing I must say about going through one trauma after another for over ten years straight is that it gives one's mind an incredible ability to deal with such traumas, allowing one to push away and ignore anything that threatens one's existence. That is, until one tries to sleep or stumbles across any triggers which release all the pain again. For me confronting this medical Limbo I have found myself in is pretty much one big trigger. After an appointment like today it's pretty much only this small voice of sanity and reason which keeps me from going completely over the edge. Every upcoming doctor and surgeon appointment will do it to me again. Over and over.

I'm playing with my life here by trying to get help, yet I am left without a choice. For there is only survival or death, no life. Only normal people get to actually live their lives, everyone else just has to suffer through theirs.


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