Six years too late

A gynecologist has misgivings.

I performed my first hysterectomy for gender confirmation in 2019. I was so delighted to help out my own LGBT community. I took immense pride in being my local LGBT clinic’s official gynecologist. What greater joy is there in medicine than providing great care to a vulnerable, underserved community, all with the support of your administration? It was how the world should be.

Six years later, I wonder.

The hysterectomies went well. They were uncomplicated. Even the one patient who came back to see me for well woman care after detransitioning didn’t tell me she regretted her surgery. I hope that all those patients are still happy not to have their uteri. But in terms of the clinic overall, staffed by earnest, well-meaning clinicians as it was – were we doing the right thing?

In some cases, I don’t think we were.

I was on board and ready to support my community. Sure, there were uncomfortable questions – hadn’t we learned in medical school that most pediatric gender dysphoria resolves by adulthood? If so, did it make sense for young adolescents to transition to the opposite sex? Was it really plausible that transgender female athletes didn’t have a biological advantage over cis girls and women? The accepted answers seemed counterintuitive – however, I assumed that the experts had carefully weighed the evidence, had done plenty of research, and had reached a scientifically-based consensus before making their recommendations regarding gender medicine.

What experts though? Trans ideology isn’t based on a whole lot of expertise. It’s mostly based on threats and abuse.

For a few years, I essentially became the go-to gynecologist in my community for gender-affirming hysterectomy referrals. I enjoyed taking care of my transmasculine patients. Some of them drove hundreds of miles from their homes in rural Iowa to receive their care in our LGBT clinic. I felt good about providing such a much-needed service. As I would joke to my assistant, a gender affirming hysterectomy referral was “my easiest consult of the day.” They came in knowing what they wanted: a hysterectomy. Unless they had a major contraindication to surgery, like uncontrolled diabetes, it was an easy decision to book it. Unlike hysterectomies for abnormal bleeding or pelvic pain, there was no need to document prior attempts at treatment, failures, and impact on the patient’s life for the insurance companies to authorize these hysterectomies. “Gender dysphoria” always got approved (with the requisite two letters, one from a mental health professional and one from a PCP).

That comes as a shock to me, I have to say. The medical kind of hysterectomy had to withstand a lot of questions, while the sad mood kind was waved right on through.

As the years went by, I couldn’t help but notice some troubling trends. The transmasculine patients who came to me had more and more poorly controlled mental health comorbidities. I also started seeing a fair percentage of them who were really quite feminine – not much different in their gender presentation than my cis patients.

I started to be a little more uneasy that hysterectomy was the right thing for this new group of transmasculine patients, but if they didn’t have any contraindications per se, I couldn’t really say no. After all, according to ACOG Committee Opinion #823, Health Care for Transgender and Gender Diverse Individuals, “Hysterectomy with or without bilateral salpingo-oophorectomy is medically necessary for patients with gender dysphoria who desire this procedure.”

Medically necessary, even though “gender dysphoria” is not medical. I cannot make sense of that.

As a medical system, for better or worse, we make our traditional gynecologic patients with miserable periods jump through quite a few hoops before they are approved for hysterectomy. Generally, they have to have a full workup for any reversible medical reason for their miserable periods and try some sort of medical management of their heavy periods, because it is such a grave decision to take a patient for a major surgery like hysterectomy with all the accompanying risk (death, bowel injury requiring lifelong colostomy, urologic injury requiring lifelong urostomy, chronic debilitating surgical pain, vaginal cuff dehiscence with evisceration, massive blood loss, stroke, etc.)

By contrast, according to medical guidelines currently in play, a uterus-having person need only walk into a gynecologist’s office, declare themselves to have a nonbinary or male gender identity, and endorse dysphoria from the presence of their uterus to qualify for hysterectomy.

I can make even less sense of that. It’s insane.

Still wondering how best to take care of my patients, I went to a private forum for Ob/Gyns to ask about how others addressed nonbinary individuals who requested gender affirming hysterectomy. I was told my question was “transphobic.”

What is the scientific medical term for transphobia?

To sum up: medicine is shockingly captive.

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