Wednesday, August 4

Here we go again...

Good morning, do you have any appointments left for Dr Davis this morning? Yes? 10 past 11? yes that's fine thank you very much.

I've only been trying to get to see my Dr for 2 weeks! It's a stupid system. You have to phone on in the morning for an appointment but by the time they take the phone off the hook, the appointments have usually gone to the people who can get down to the surgery for 8.30 and queue to get an appointment. So, 11.10 it is then. 

I go into instant anxiety attack and panic mode. Oh no. Isabelle will be at the playscheme. I have to pick her up at 11.45. What if the Dr is running late. What if I don't get out in time to go and get her? I work myself up into a stupid frenzy over something that might not, and in fact, probably will not happen. Of course I'll be there in time. I keep telling myself this, but it doesn't stop the overriding anxiety and panic.

I drop Isabelle off at 10am and go home to wait for it to get to 11 o'clock, time for me to drive to the surgery. My head is convincing me I don't need to actually go and see the Dr now, especially as it's cutting it so fine (in my mind) for picking Isabelle up again. Call and cancel. You don't need to go. But I know I do. I've been here before several times. I've put it off for six months and I know I can't ignore it any longer. I have to deal with it and sort myself out. It's taking over my life and spoiling it.

I get to the surgery and the Dr is running about 10 minutes late. There's only 1 person in front of me, providing she's quick I should be ok. I'm sat there working myself up into a frenzy by this point. Trying to remember everything I need to say to the Dr and am overanxious about getting to pick Isabelle up in time. My heart is beating so fast I can hear it pounding in my head. I'm even sat there trembling. How stupid is this? Get a grip for heavens sake!!

My name is called. My lovely, smiley, friendly Dr says "what can I do for you today?" I can't cope anymore! and the floodgates open. Tears are now rolling down my face. Oh for heavens sake I tell him, I wasn't going to do this. We chat, I calm down, he's rational and makes sense, and I tell him I realise and understand how stupid what I'm saying must sound to him, I know it's stupid to feel this way and to react to things the way I do, I just can't help it no matter how I pysch myself to think differently. He tells me it's ok. It's understandable to feel the way I do, it's quite common. I'm not a freak. I tell him, I've even been shouting at my 5 year old, who is generally a good kid. I never shout at her, I'll tell her off, but never shout. That's how bad things have got. I've always been such a patient person, but my patience has run out. 

It's ok says my lovely, friendly Dr, I'll help fix you. I love my Dr for wanting to help me, and for actually listening to me. I know he's paid to do it, but some Drs listen more than others. He is one of them.

He tells me he's going to change my painkillers to something stronger. He looks back over my records to see what we've tried in the past. A very looooong list. We talked about Fibromyalgia. I normally try not to mention it.. daft I know, but he said it must be very hard to live with and asked when I was actually diagnosed with it. 13 years ago! Oh, he says. If it had been 2 or 3 years, there was a good chance it would go into remission.. but after 13 years, chances are it's not going anywhere. Hmmmm, no blood tests since 2007, lets have a batch of bloods done shall we? Yes Dr, ok.. we'll try that route again.

So out I go with a prescription for some kick ass painkillers, anti-depressants (I've been on them before and am not ashamed to say I need them again.. I've been on and off them over the past 25 years!) and a poly bag to take with me to visit dracula for a shed load of blood tests. 

And yes, I was out in plenty of time to go and get Isabelle. 

Is the anxiety and panic over for today? No. Do I tell my hubby when he gets home. He's not a sympathetic person or understanding at all. He can't understand anyone who has any mental health or depression problems. He's a 'what the hell have you got to be depressed or stressed about' person. Snap out of it, will be his reaction. Get a job. Find something to do to amuse yourself. Which doesn't help a bit. Get a job? and add to my already huge workload ( he goes to work and (in his opinion) therefore doesn't have to do any housework, financing, bills... etc etc.. that is all left to me), so great idea ... not.. to add extra to someone who is not coping very well to start with. The fact that I can't talk to him about it doesn't help. How do I get him to understand what's going on inside me when I can't explain it to myself. He doesn't even understand (or try to for that matter) fibromyalgia.  I might as well go and talk to the wall. I'd get the same amount of understanding. 

So, I'll go and collect my new medication ready to start it tonight, and move forward.

oh, and on a side note.. the sun is actually shining at the moment. This is the first time I've seen the sun out over our side of the country in about 3 weeks!! So it's not all doom and gloom.