(no subject)
So, I had a doctor's appointment today, to try and figure out what the hell is wrong with me and why my periods are so inconsistent(they've been randomly showing up at intervals ranging from six months to two weeks since the day I've gotten them, minus like, the few months the pill worked and a few at the beginning). I went to a doctor that my Mom has, that she just set up an appointment with. God forbid that I've already been seeing the nurse practioner for our doctor, she's the only person I ever see, and she already knows all of the history and told me exactly what we'll need to do if this past pill screwed up, which it did. No, I have to go to a complete stranger.
Well, I went there, spent the first near-half hour waiting for the damn doctor to show up, got drilled with a bunch of questions, didn't get any answers to the "why can't a guy get in" only a "well did the doctor get in for a pap?" "Did they take cultures?" "I'm going to do a pap on you just so I can have everything on record here, since I don't have your records." I felt like an idiot the entire time, and while I finally figured out how to make life a little easier during the pap(I literally have to hold myself down and force myself to breathe normally, otherwise I do my normal freaking as usual when I deal with this sort of stuff that causes pain), I was left sitting around with no instructions for the next fifteen minutes on what to do for the pregnancy test. Is it the stuff in the bathroom? What? Normally I get handed the cup and told to leave it in the bathroom people, you have to elaborate for me, not just say "we're getting you a pregnancy test and an ultrasound, but you can get dressed for those." Then they come in and want to know if I can't pee or something. No, I have pee. I just didn't know whether or not I was going to get something specific to pee in. Then I left the thing in the bathroom, which was also apparently the wrong thing to do.
Stuck in the room waiting for another ten minutes or so before the doctor came back in, only to tell me, okay, you need an ultrasound and bloodwork, come with me. She drops off a script and the paperwork at the front desk, then leaves. That is all I got, and all I still know. I then got jabbed by a needle and bled, which is not one of the nice things in my life. It's another panic attack, actually. Luckily that person was nice, because it's back in my doctor's office. I wanted to hunt down Bisson and cry in her arms or something, since all I had with me was my dad. Not the greatest sympathy material in this form. He sympathized with the waste of time, and I have parental permission to be irrated with mother, but that's so not the point.
I waited for my sister to get home, cried to her, felt a little better, but I still wanna know what's wrong with me. I at least want some sort of "I'm not sure what's wrong with you, so we're going to do some blood tests and take a look at you through the ultrasound so we can make sure you don't have the same stuff as your mother and your sister." Bisson could have told me that, and without the pap that always hurts like hades. I honestly would have preferred that, and it would have taken half the time and drive, and none of the paperwork. I want to yell at Mom, but not until after, because otherwise she might yell at the doctor, and I really don't feel like her doing that when I still have to see the woman again. Though there might be some explaining to do for the "Dr. Bully" that my sister wrote on the calender. She still wants me to at least get some sort of commentary from Bisson, if not a second opinion. I'll ask Mom later.
Right now I wish I could find out what's wrong with me. I don't care if there's no pill that can fix me, and I might have to rearrange my entire diet and lifestyle so that I can have a regular, consistent cycle. I just want to know what's wrong, and have someone tell me when they're not sure yet. If there's anything I can't stand it's feeling like a damn deer in headlights over what's going on with me. It's like I'm a stranger in my own body, and I don't want to be that. I should be able to know myself. I should be allowed that at least. Not sitting in cluelessness in a piece of paper.
Well, I went there, spent the first near-half hour waiting for the damn doctor to show up, got drilled with a bunch of questions, didn't get any answers to the "why can't a guy get in" only a "well did the doctor get in for a pap?" "Did they take cultures?" "I'm going to do a pap on you just so I can have everything on record here, since I don't have your records." I felt like an idiot the entire time, and while I finally figured out how to make life a little easier during the pap(I literally have to hold myself down and force myself to breathe normally, otherwise I do my normal freaking as usual when I deal with this sort of stuff that causes pain), I was left sitting around with no instructions for the next fifteen minutes on what to do for the pregnancy test. Is it the stuff in the bathroom? What? Normally I get handed the cup and told to leave it in the bathroom people, you have to elaborate for me, not just say "we're getting you a pregnancy test and an ultrasound, but you can get dressed for those." Then they come in and want to know if I can't pee or something. No, I have pee. I just didn't know whether or not I was going to get something specific to pee in. Then I left the thing in the bathroom, which was also apparently the wrong thing to do.
Stuck in the room waiting for another ten minutes or so before the doctor came back in, only to tell me, okay, you need an ultrasound and bloodwork, come with me. She drops off a script and the paperwork at the front desk, then leaves. That is all I got, and all I still know. I then got jabbed by a needle and bled, which is not one of the nice things in my life. It's another panic attack, actually. Luckily that person was nice, because it's back in my doctor's office. I wanted to hunt down Bisson and cry in her arms or something, since all I had with me was my dad. Not the greatest sympathy material in this form. He sympathized with the waste of time, and I have parental permission to be irrated with mother, but that's so not the point.
I waited for my sister to get home, cried to her, felt a little better, but I still wanna know what's wrong with me. I at least want some sort of "I'm not sure what's wrong with you, so we're going to do some blood tests and take a look at you through the ultrasound so we can make sure you don't have the same stuff as your mother and your sister." Bisson could have told me that, and without the pap that always hurts like hades. I honestly would have preferred that, and it would have taken half the time and drive, and none of the paperwork. I want to yell at Mom, but not until after, because otherwise she might yell at the doctor, and I really don't feel like her doing that when I still have to see the woman again. Though there might be some explaining to do for the "Dr. Bully" that my sister wrote on the calender. She still wants me to at least get some sort of commentary from Bisson, if not a second opinion. I'll ask Mom later.
Right now I wish I could find out what's wrong with me. I don't care if there's no pill that can fix me, and I might have to rearrange my entire diet and lifestyle so that I can have a regular, consistent cycle. I just want to know what's wrong, and have someone tell me when they're not sure yet. If there's anything I can't stand it's feeling like a damn deer in headlights over what's going on with me. It's like I'm a stranger in my own body, and I don't want to be that. I should be able to know myself. I should be allowed that at least. Not sitting in cluelessness in a piece of paper.