Diagnoses

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A/N: Hiya guys. So, I’ve been saving this for a while. I wrote it the day after I was diagnosed, so it’s pretty raw and depressing. It’s important to me… but I think it would really help someone else with this. Thank you to whoever reads this.

Maybe soon I’ll continue with writing what’s been happening with my life. Love you all <3

Her name?

That was easy. Victoria Drewes.

Her hair color, eye color, height, weight..?

Easy. Brown, brown again, 5’2, and 121. Pretty average.

Blood pressure, heart rate?

Getting to the harder questions.  115/50. 92 beats per minute. High for someone young.

“Nervous?”

No shit Sherlock.

“A little.”

Health problems?

At this point, I’m praying it’s not cancer.

“That’s why we’re here today. We’re hoping we’re finally gonna get some answers.” The mother replies. Obviously, the patient is too anxious to answer for herself.

“Well, it says here on your chart you have yet to have your period.”

Be brave.

“Y-” Dammit don’t stutter! “Yes, my sister already has it, so I went to have a bunch of tests to see if something was wrong.”

Breathe. No bad news yet.

There’s good news, and there’s bad news.”

Breathe, dammit, breathe!

“If you were ever concerned, you do not have anything life threating.”

The mother lets out a sigh of relief, but her shoulders speak volumes. She’s waiting for the ball to drop.

One heartbeat. One heartbeat lost.

Tendrils of fear crawl up her stomach. It visibly shows on her face.

What’s worse than not dying?

“You… do not have a uterus.”

The world lurches; it spins wildly out of control, threating to devour me. What are the ramifications of not having a uterus?

She already knows what this means. She’s been doing some research on the web already, obviously related to having no period.

In other words, she knows what’s coming up next.

“Without a uterus… there is no way for you to get your period.”

Take a breath. Don’t cry. Whatever you do, don’t cry.

Tears we’re already in her eyes.

Her mother was gripping her purse like it was a lifeline to safety. Her eyes were wide, her whole posture screaming scared.

“That also means you can’t have a child.”

The world threatens to dissolve.  It tilts, spins, reverses… It’s sickening. It’s madness.

Does the future hold any hope without a baby to hold in my arms?

The world stops for the patient, the mother, and the doctor.

“I’m sorry,”

Pity is personified in the young doctor’s eyes.

I don’t want your pity. I want your answers.

I want the sky to fall away and the world to stop spinning and for time to stop. I want this to be over; for it to be a nightmare long forgotten in the fog of life.

You can’t always get what you want.

But this time, this one time, it’s a need.

“There’s more.”

How? How can there be more suffering in this world – in this moment.

“Your entire reproductive system was… affected. You were born without a vagina.”

Excuse me?

“You’re going to have to undergo some treatments.”

If it’s possible, her eyes tear up even more, but not a single tear drops. Her mother is in shock.

“There’s one way besides surgery that will fix this, but surgery is preferred here.”

Surgery? The word itself sounds wrong. The meaning of the word sounds worse. Surgery meant pain and doctors and missing school days and being a freak. Surgery meant being different than everyone else and dealing with things normal girls don’t deal with.

“I’m terribly sorry, there is a name for what you have, but I can’t remember it. I promise to email you more information.”

Silence. The tension in the room is deafening… suffocating.

The doctor’s eyes meet the patient’s.

“You are a normal teenage girl. None of this affects your personality, or your looks. You’re strong and beautiful. You will overcome this.”

Numb. The words don’t reach me.

“Do… do you have any questions?”

Her mother looks torn between being strong for her daughter… or breaking down herself.

“She can’t ask anything right now. She’s about to burst into tears.”

The tears begin to really spill, and the girl lets out a loud sob. Her hands cling to her mother’s arm.

What am I going to do? I’m a freak. I’m a freak. I’m a freak.

“I’ll email you. You can leave whenever you’re ready.”

She leaves. The door closes slowly behind her… The world continues spinning.

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