Life it sucks sucks sucks so much
The slowest way to die
Ordinarily i think i'm relatively chirpy, pretty glass half full sort. Fairly impassioned and stuff.
But the endometriosis is getting me down, like dense seaweed that you never saw til you were wholly tangled in it. and the chronic anemia is making me feel like a mobile corpse. i'm totally sleep walking through my own life right now and nothing is making me feel remotely better. and i can't sleep i can't sleep i cannot seem to fcuking sleep (spot the deliberate error)
and then i had THE most abortive trip to the doctor's ever.
I finally land a spot and then the lovely doctor that i saw is on vacation so i have to take the dregs and boy were there.
i arrive early by ten minutes and sit like a lemon in the waiting room for 45 mins. i could deal with that. it should be a human interation not a 2 second conveyor belt.
THere's a student in wiht him, i can deal with that. for once in this whole investigative process i've not got my legs in stirrups and he's not at twat level having a chat about life the world and my knackered fallopian tubes. but that fact that he hadn't used the 15 mins between me and the patient before me to even cast an eye over my notes was vaguely annoying.
there i am, at my wits end. i'm tired, i'm bloated, the tablets i've been taking to improve my iroon levels are making me feel like crap, giving me additional stomach ache and constipation to boot and he's there going 'well you just need to continue as you are for the next three months and then we'll send you for a review.'
'Well i don't really know what you expect me to do madam, you have to give these things time'.
Well, you're the doctor, i've already given it 6 weeks, i feel like death, i'm gearing up for the period from hell and you're not trying to make me better.
i hate crying. it serves no purpose except to undermine the point you were trying to make and give you a snot nose and generally make your face look kinda blurry. and there i was sobbing away. did he offer me a tissue? he did not.
so i asked for one. and spelt out for him the reality of my days now. how i used to bounce out of bed but now really have to force myself to get up. how i feel so nauseaus most of the time that i get a seat on the bus pretty easily coz people (and this is london folks) are expecting me to fall over any time. how i have stabbing pains in my stomach, vagina and lower back at random and sporadic times. how this escalates to feeling as if an alien is about to hatch out and actually spewing from the pain or passing out. how i hemorage for 3-4 days a month. what that's actually like. At work. In bed. at your honey's house. need a full change of clothes for your bottom half just in case the flooding gets past the fortune in sanitary protection that i'm spending.
is it normal to get through 10-15 tampax in a working day? would he want to 'hold on' for 3 more months of that?
i don't think i was his best patient ever.
but really. we've been taught to put our faith in conventional medicine when in reality it varies so monumentally from practioner to practicioner, i wish i'd stuck to crying with pain on my own in the dark.