DeviantArt
i have been assimilated. i’ve gained ‘employed’ down at deviantdolls, a deviantart club dedicated to women, by women, for women. from now on everything you see in the photography gallery will have come through moi. it’s rather fun. there’ve been a few pieces is was tempted to ignore, the fuzzy web-cam so called ‘glamour portraits’ but i guess that’s not my place. i don’t think i’ve screwed up yet and i’m pretty damn pleased to be a part of something so huge. thankyou T.
i had my scan, at last, it was as horrid as i thought and more. my two biggest fears are doctors and my reproductive organs, so you can imagine that internal scans and exams of my lady bits are my worst nightmare. unfortunately i’m having a lot of them lately. they also did an ultrasound, i saw my own ovaries, wahay (-_-) what they did find was that i don’t have much of the lining of my womb left, which i expected, i have been bleeding since fucking february after all. as per usual, nobody said or did anything to help, and i left the hospital even more pissed off than when i went in, if possible.
i would like a hysterectomy right about now please. hell, i’ll take the entire ‘gender reassignment’ package, i’m tired of this.
not to be taken literally.
two posts in one day? i am a busy beaver.
my breasts i have covered, no pun intended. and now i’m moving on, to my uterus.
the big long wait ensues for a scan of my utertus, because i think it’s eating itself. to explain, about half a year ago now, i went to my g.p. requesting a better means of contraception than condoms, because i was fially getting into a serious relationship, with the young man who is now, my partner. he refused me them, no the grounds that they would interfere with the other meds i was taking at the time. which, frankly, i don’t remember doctors having the right to do. two months of proctected sex with my partner, which meant alot of it, at the time, in the first throws of love, after two months my period didn’t come, my nipples started feeling inside out, and my moodswings got worse, and as a result i had to leave school for my behaviour. and i took a pregnancy test, which, of course, came out positive. i screamed and cried and threatened to ‘get the bastard tumour out of my body by myself if i have to.’ i realised there was no other option then to abort, i it would be unfair to bring a person into the world via this body, let alone the imminent post-natal depression, having to cope with two messed up parents and, oh yeah, having a sixteen year old fucking mother. to add insult to injury, i went to see a gynacologist about the whole debaucle, who told me that i had to have the operation rather than the pills to swallow, because by the time i could be booked in for the abortion, i would be eight weeks gone. even though, i was only six weeks then, when i could have taken the pills there and then. does that make any sense to you? because it doesn’t to me. after the operation, and a near nervous breakdown in the pre-op ward, when a women was visited by her partner and their screaming baby, i bled. and bled. and bled bled bled. i wouldn’t stop, and it scared me, i went to the doctors, was booked in to have a swab taken, which was traumatic, and felt like rape*, only colder and less human, but was neccisary. nothing was found. i was later found that the tests run were to find sexually transmitted infections, not infections i could have been given during surgery. the bleeding continues, after six months, i’m feeling just a little bit dizzy, if you can imagine that. and now, now i have to go back for a full scan of my uterus, i’m feeling pretty fucking bitter right now about the whole thing really. though i don’t know what they’ll be looking for, perhaps the feotus is still there, out for revenge, tearing away at the lining of my womb with angst. perhaps i have to cut back on that imagination thing i hate.
i could complain about the nhs right now, i won’t. they’ve done wonderful things for my freind’s father, who has leukimia, and would, in america have to pay for treatment which he couldn’t afford. i just feel wronged. there’s plenty of time for them to earn back my trust. so, national health service, you’re time starts now. find out whats wrong with me, treat it, make me better please.
on an upside, thursday night is the night to be an insomniac, channel four is treating me well.
* before any passers by feel the need to flame me about my choice of words, i have been sexually abused in the past, i know the feeling, i am absolutley not construing rape as something to be taken lightly, or being ignorant to other peoples experiences. i now phobic of sex, completley, and to me the examination was completley traumatic and worthy of the word ‘rape’ in my mind.
