Good Tries

A doctor with many magazines

I love my gyno.
Before going in to see her, the nurse had me sit down so she could take my blood pressure. She looked at me over her mini laptop. "What's the reason for your visit honey?"
"I just want to talk to her."
"About your test results?"
"Noo, I had that blood work done 6 months ago."
"Soooo, are you having a problem?"
I'd call a handful of miscarriages and the gut wrenching anxiety that follows a problem, but I simply said, "Yes."
"Just a second honey." She grabs her handy computer and heads to the rear of the office.
I can hear snippets of their conversation floating over.
".....she just wants to talk to her...."
"...put follow up to blood work...."
".....that's the problem, she had blood work 6 months ago..."
Meanwhile I'm sitting there fuming. It's suddenly a "problem" that I just want to talk to my gynocologist? I thought angrily. I have to have a blazing urinary tract infection or a pregnant belly to get this woman in the same room as me?
She returns.
"Sorry about that dear," her voice lowers to a whisper, "we just have to make sure we put the reason for your visit as something your insurance will cover."
I suddenly felt a rush of love for my gyno and her nurse.
My visit with her went well. I told her of my experiences with very faint positives and she listened intently.
She ordered blood work to test my progesterone levels and wrote me a prescription for suppositories.
Then she looked at me and said, "You are going to keep a pregnancy."
She seemed like she meant it.
When she left the room she said goodbye and good luck.
All in all, a very good visit.

B.O. and A.O.

It's amazing how fast the time goes by when you're not trying to get pregnant.
No longer are my months divided into Before Ovulation and After Ovulation. It's very refreshing.
Tomorrow I have my appointment with my gyno and I am prepared. I refuse to go into this blindly again. Any test that hasn't been performed will be administered. Every nook and cranny of my uterus shall be examined and analyzed by a team of the best doctors my shitty insurance can provide. I'm not kidding, I want to know everything. I can take it, nothing is worse than not knowing.
I'm not crazy about my gyno, last time I saw her was kind of embarrasing.
I had made an appointment after experiencing spotting while 7 weeks pregnant. After she had ordered an ultrasound and examined me (all the while reassuring me she saw no blood and everything looked great) she left the room while tossing a "let me go order this ultrasound" over her shoulder. I kind of assumed she'd be back. There was no "Bye, good luck!" or "Try not to worry!" or even a "Have fun waiting for your miscarriage!"
She seemed like she'd be back and I had questions about the progesterone and baby aspirin she'd prescribed. So I sat and I waited. And waited. Finally, what seemed like 20 minutes later I poked my head out the door and spotted her talking to a woman who looked like she was in her 5th trimester. I just assumed she'd forgotten all about me to focus on a woman who's pregnancy looked more successful.
I cried all the way home, for a lot of reasons. Some important, like losing my pregnancy. Some unimportant, like my gyno is busy and my pregnancy for some reason is not the center of her world.
I doubt she remembers that visit.
But tomorrow you can bet that I won't wait for a goodbye.

Sorry Laura

Fall must be here.
We've turned off the air conditioning, I'm burning harvest scented Yankee candles and football is the soundtrack of my Sundays. That's how I know.
I have good feeings about the upcoming months. Dan and I (who I'm refering to by his name because Husband is getting annoying and who the hell cares anyway) have joined an art league. It is newly formed and is quite a cute little group. We are having our first ever show and sale on Saturday so I plan on spending all of this week painting like a mad woman. As a result, I may neglect this blog. You understand I'm sure.

I swear I'm not bipolar

Wow.
This is an uplifting blog.
Some might think of me as a motivational writer of sorts, but hey, I'm just doing my part to heal the masses.

But seriously...this isn't me.

Lately it seems like I'm focusing a hell of a lot more on the negative aspects of my life. Sure it includes some sad stories, but who's doesn't? Some pretty amazing stuff has happened too.
It's only the horrible events that seem to stand out in my mind the most, and influence my attitude and my health, mentally and now physically as well.
I have lost my gratitude and that makes me sad.
I am actually quite lucky. Lucky to have a wonderful caring family, great friends, an amazingly patient husband, and a dog that thinks the greatest thing in the world is just seeing me walk through the door after a long day of napping.
I'm lucky I was born free. I'm lucky that my parents got drunk that New Years Eve of 1979 and had sex without protection..........you get the point.
I can't dwell on my negative memories anymore. They have shaped me, but they don't define me.
Everything is going to work out. I've told myself that many times before, but I think now I actually believe it.

A sunshiny entry to brighten your day

About two years ago something horrible happened.
The guy that I had been dating for months, and known for years, committed suicide after a long night of drinking. There was no obvious reason as to why he did it and obviously he left his family and friends deeply shattered.
Since then, I have suffered many gut wrenching anxiety attacks. At first they were quite text book. Racing heart, sweating profusely, feeling like I was going to die or go crazy. It was all very easily diagnosable. Those episodes transitioned into a social phobia. I would only get panicky when I was around groups of people. It would even happen around my family, there were no exceptions. This caused me to spend massive amounts of time alone. With only my dog Lola to keep me company, I spent a couple of months in solitude, going out only to work.
Then I started dating my now husband, and due to his unabashed willingness to let me talk about this, I started slowly getting better. Feeling more normal.
Now I have felt a setback.
My anxiety is still quite a part of me but is wearing a completely different outfit. In fact, it took a couple months to even recognize that it had reared its hideous head.
I now feel I am a border line hypochondriac.
I am constantly worried something is wrong with me. I think this was brought on by the miscarriages and the fact that though almost every test was performed, I still got no answer as to why.
My heart palpitations are very real to me but I know they are passed off as an anxiety attack. Though I know that I get them while at rest, my doctor doesn't seem to care. The first question they will ask if you complain of a racing heart is if you've had an anxiety disorder in the past. If you answer "yes," it's like they aren't even listening anymore. I find myself increasingly frustrated with this situation. I don't necessarily want to go to therapy and rehash my life's occurances but am worried that I'm out of options.
Writing this blog has helped tremendously, even if no one reads it.
I'm not asking for delirious happiness, just a little closer to fine.

Never trust a doctor with only two magazines

The more I think about my doctor's visit yesterday, the more pissed I am.
First of all, I waited an hour and a half to see this broad. One hour in the waiting room with only a year old copy of People to look at. (Really, who gives a shit about Tom Cruise's creepy wedding?) Then 30 minutes in the exam room with an even older copy of People which I feared was too germ ridden to even touch.
When she finally graces me with her presence, she's so busy and important that she keeps interrupting me and being really flippant about my symptoms. When she mentioned that the heart palpitations could possibly be due to a thyroid problem, I mentioned if my miscarriages could be connected somehow. With a dismissive wave of her hand she said, "Two miscarriages.........you know, not that big of a deal. Some women just have them." I then mentioned the two additional very early miscarriages I recently experienced. "You know.....some women just have them...." she repeated. She knows that my gyno ordered a full blood work-up after my last one so she had absolutely nothing else intelligent to say about this.
I couldn't resist asking, "Have you?" She sounded so breezy and assured, and after all, I know for a fact that her office is adorned with pictures of two beaming little girls. Maybe she's overcome this situation, I thought hopefully.
She continued her nonchalance. "No, but I know lots of women who have."
Congratu-fucking-lations. You're a doctor. I would be shocked if you hadn't met anyone with a health problem.
This woman has a PhD to prove she's not an idiot, but somehow I still don't believe it.

Feel the beat

I went to my family doctor today to ask about infrequent heart palpitations I've been experiencing of late.
Though she seemed mildly concerned about a thyroid problem and ordered some bloodwork, I kind of think she just assumes I'm stressed out. Or suffering from some sort of anxiety disorder. I tried to tell her that it's only when my heart flip flops and then beats super fast do I get a little panicky. I don't think that's unreasonable.
We've decided to stop trying to get pregnant for a while. I know I've said and thought that before but this time it's for real. My body needs a break. I need a break. I feel good about this decision.
However I won't stop bitching about shitty parents and the injustices of our natural selection process.

Sarcastic bitchiness is kind of my thing, I can't lose that.

I've had a few beers

Today I saw a woman with a 2 year old. They were crossing the parking lot of where I work. The child was wearing nothing but a diaper. No shoes. Crossing a dirty, disgusting - where the broken glass glistens in the sunlight and where once I saw blood stains - parking lot. As I got in my car, the child noticed me and we locked eyes. Distracted she ran into a pole. She wasn't hurt (that was my first concern), but her mother smacked her in the back of the head for not paying attention. I wondered (furiously), does this woman even give a shit about this kid? Does she even realize how fortunate she was to give birth to a beautiful, perfect baby?
I'm extremely annoyed that any fucking idiot can give birth and raise a child. I'm extremely annoyed that I am having such a hard time with it. I'm losing my zen optimism. I'm getting pissed.
I've never had a "why me" attitude. I pride myself on that fact. But lately I find myself painfully aware of the gross injustice of the world, and my life.

And all anyone cares about is Britney fucking Spears.

depressed & repetitive

Something is wrong. I know it.
"It'll happen when the time is right.....God has a plan......you don't want to rush things....."
I love you people, but shut the fuck up, something is wrong.
A couple of months ago I saw a faint positive and proceeded to get my period.
This month - the same thing.
Technically I wasn't late at all and had no business taking a test but I'm an addict. Furthermore if I do get pregnant again I need to be proactive about it and get HCG betas and have them test my progesterone levels.
I need to know early. Besides, it says on the box you can take it 5 days early so why the hell shouldn't I?
That's my rationalization and I'm sticking to it.
I feel horrible. I know something is wrong.
What's worse than knowing something is wrong is not knowing what it is.
I made an appointment with my gyno to "talk". I'm going to suggest she test my hormone levels. That's one test I haven't had.
I'm completely lost as to what to do next.