Sunday, 23 October 2011

Pre-Ultrasound Nerves

Okay, so you might know that I'm scheduled for an ultrasound on Wednesday. You might also know that this is part of an investigation to see whether I have Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome (PCOS). You might even know that this has been an ongoing thing for oh...the last three years. Yeah. Some doctors just don't want to give you a straight answer. But however much I talk about straight answers, not being able to get them etc. it doesn't take away from the fact that I've gotten used to them. How weird is that? I'm used to being given shitty answers, like 'we don't normally investigate people who aren't in a stable relationship' what?! NO.

*Ahem* Sorry. Anyway, I've gotten to this point, the pre-ultrasound nerves. There are things going through my head like 'what if I have PCOS?' and 'what if they can't get a clear picture' and 'what if they do get a clear picture?'. But I think the not knowing is worse than the knowing. I just want a little reassurance that whatever happens, everything's going to be okay. And it's not like I don't have an excellent support system, but I'm seventeen years old. I never expected to care about being able to have kids. I never expected to have to deal with any of this.

To be frank, the worst things that I've had to deal with are, in order, horrible medication; the stuff I was on before made me depressed and nauseous. The nausea I noticed, but the most frightening thing was that I didn't realise that I'd gotten to such a depressed state. I nearly quit school, I nearly sabotaged all of my friendships, I nearly ruined what life I have. The other thing that's really bothered me is 'Oh, it's probably not PCOS'. It's when people say this that you know they're not sure what to say. But at the same time, it feels like they're blowing you off, like it's not a real problem, but oh wait, it IS! I hate that, like more than most things. I'm not telling people to get sympathy most of the time, and when I do want sympathy, it's not because I'm an attention seeker, it's because...well it's a big problem that I can't deal with alone.

I can't help but feel very alone sometimes, and I'm writing this in the hope that someone out there has gone through something similar and might offer a few words of encouragement, but it's a long shot that they'll happen to stumble across my garbled words. And if there's anyone out there that I can help, I'd like to. Potentially having PCOS doesn't scare me anymore, there are women who have it all over the place who have it, women that will be diagnosed with it. As alone as I feel I know that there are people with the same issues.

I'm terrified of hospitals - there's another thing about me. They're horrible. I respect anyone who can work in a hospital on a daily basis. The thing is, I have to see my gyno/radiologist in the hospital. Aaaaaaaahh! Anyone wanna field this one? HELP!

I'll let you know how the ultrasound goes, and when I get the results.

AJ

1 comment:

  1. Neurotics and not-so-neurotics unite!!!! Much love from me, fellow worrier and person who dislikes hospitals rather... but not as much as you. Am writing you a postcard at some point, should make you a bit happier.

    I know it is hard but try to stay positive. Buy a chocolate reindeer on me (i find edible animals often help) and breathe slowly. Sadly, that is all the advice I have.

    On the hospitals thing, I also am very unhelpful as I never face the objects of my neurotic fears but... break the day down into little chunks. Only focus on one thing at a time and it will be easier. Also, get your Ipod and find a piece of music which puts you in a good mood most of the time, or is really distracting (for me this is Beethoven symphonies). Then afterwards, go out for cake as a reward. Again, things shaped like animals or with interesting icing work best.

    Fiiiiinally... when you come to Cambridge at some point in the next year, I will take you to Formal Hall (but only if you come on a Wednesday!), my treat, as congratulations/comiserations. And I really really hope that it is the former.

    Love of all varieties...

    Kateness, the magical one of joy. Sometimes.

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