Depression

I have Nightmares About This

By: raebabe Mood: Other Date: Feb 21, 2013 Music: None

I thought I'd dealt with what happened. It's been so many years and I thought it's in the past and I'm not bothered any more. Then I went into this appointment today and was taken so off guard by a question about my past. It was then I realized this is my skeleton in the closet. It is the root cause of 50% of the problems I have today.

I had my annual exam that all women dread. I walked in and filled out paperwork. I also brought in all my records because they asked me to gather everything. There were records documenting my BT, Endo, PCOS, all my surgeries and all my pregnancy losses. I didn’t want to go. I hate facing that kind of doctor and not for the same reasons as most. It reminds me of my infertility.

I filled out the paperwork carefully while my records were copied. The receptionist, while nice, was not very tactful. She comes out from the back and tells me lightheartedly that, “My whole life is on display back there.” I don’t tell people about my infertility until I know them. My gut reaction was to panic. I felt exposed. An image of a group of doctors and nurses all picking up pages and pointing as if I were some kind of science experiment invaded my mind.

Then I go back and one of the symptoms I’d marked off on the paperwork was (TMI warning from this point forward), “painful intercourse.” I didn’t even think about it because I’ve had that my whole life. The nurse is going through the boxes and I tell her about the pain I’m having from Endo and about making color copies of my surgical photos.

Then out of the blue, “When you have pain during sex is it during initial penetration or deep penetration?” I blushed as I answered. Then she asks me the kind of question I don’t tell a soul about. I don’t talk about it or relive it. I don’t even remember most of what happened.

“Were you sexually abused as a child?”

I stopped. I turned my head away. I stammered and choked out a, “that’s personal.” I didn’t want to talk about it but she explained that pain during sex could be caused by that so I had to tell her the truth. I sat there and told a stranger my deepest secrets. Here I can do that because I don’t know you and you don’t know me. I looked her in the eyes and had to tell her yes and explain what happened.

The day before yesterday I stepped on a treadmill with my boobs flopping around at every step in front of a medical team and I was not ashamed. I never dreaded that appointment, just what they would find. I was scared sh*tless to go today and now I know why.

The doctor comes in after I get undressed and at this point I’ve reverted to this shy woman with her eyes firmly fixed to the ground. Dr. “Confidence” goes over everything that you do during that kind of appointment so no matter what I’d already feel exposed because I’m literally exposed.

Then she tries to recreate the pain I feel during sex. I’ll leave that image to your imagination. I don’t feel any pain. Because I don’t feel any pain she tells me it’s not likely to be because of Endo.

The nurse leaves and Dr. Confidence asks me the same damn question. I have to tell her my life story too. I didn’t even hide the fact that I was staring at my socks. I couldn’t look at her face. I don’t have an ounce of self-esteem left in me right now.

She asked if I’d ever been to counseling. When someone comes at you with a knife because you tried to, “tell on them,” the state generally steps in and makes the victim go to counseling.

I could hardly think about anything else in that appointment. I went in smiling and nervous. I left feeling like an Emo kid, completely at odds with the world. I gripped the handle to my purse so hard I left nail marks in the leather. I got to the car and started freaking out.

I wanted to cry. I was shaking and hyperventilating. I started having palpitations which is the other very real problem I’m dealing with right now.

I have an ultrasound to see if I need surgery and I’m getting an IUD. Dear God, how can I handle two more appointments? Hopefully, I won’t have periods or they will be light so I won’t have the pain any more. They wanted me to go on birth control and I told them both, “I have a heart condition so I’d rather not.” I was thinking, “I’d rather have the pain from Endo. than a stroke.”

I was so ashamed; am so ashamed.

It didn’t help that I’m charting every little disturbance with my heart right now. I’ve written 7 things down just in the time it took to write this. I’ll lay down at night and have palpitations. At my stress test they called them PVC’s so now I know what a PVC feels like. I usually get up and exercise because getting my heart rate up will often make them go away. But since I’m trying to give the Dr. an idea of how bad it is I laid there and counted them for my chart. From 9 to midnight I had over 400 PVC’s. Four times since I started this blog I’ve had to write down PVC or PVC’s on my chart. I don’t think taking half a pill is working for me at all. I want to curl up in a ball and sob while I eat too many bon bon’s (what is a bon bon anyway?) and a tub of Peanut butter and Chocolate Ice Cream.

The PVC’s were so bad yesterday and my heart rate was getting so high (not really high but high when you are taking a Beta Blocker to physically MAKE your heart slow down) I was having classic signs of a heart attack but I just got the all clear on my heart having no structural damage so the Cardiologist told me, “not to worry.” Then I went to bed telling myself, “this isn’t dangerous,” like a mantra. Both cardiologists have told me I’m safe so I trust them and ignore my instinct.

Too many PVC’s in a row is actually Ventricular Tachycardia. If that goes on for too long (I think one site said just 5 seconds and I’ve been having that every night) that you could go into V Fib which would be an emergency. I could be dead by the time anyone got there not to mention I go to bed hours before my husband. I’ve been sleeping with the phone by my hand.