I had my yearly Girl Appointment today. I kind of felt cheated, because when last year’s hormonal disaster went down I had so many Girl Appointments that they assured me I wouldn’t need my standard one. Apparently they lied, so I ended up with a speculum in my Area at a very unpleasant hour of the morning.
Everything looks okay. On top of the speculum and the spatula and the GAH my doctor did some bloodwork to confirm for herself that, yes, the surgery and the hormones had done their job. I seem to have improved, physically, in that this Girl Appointment did not end with me sobbing and bleeding in a huddled ball of pathetic on the exam table. The bloodwork will probably come back marked “A+” and will possibly have a smiley-face sticker on it. Okay, that’s all good.
But my weight is still rising, and nobody knows why. The surgery-and-hormones double-threat doesn’t seem to have knocked that particular problem out of the park. My insurance wouldn’t cover a thyroid test (biopsy? taste-test? what?), but I went ahead and paid for it out of pocket — my doctor is VERY concerned, and to be honest, so am I. After seeing the number on the scale we both did a double-take; I am blessed in that I don’t look like I weigh nearly as much as I do, but this is still not good. We sort of side-stepped around the issue for a minute until I finally just said, “Look, I started a running program, got serious about Pilates, exist mainly on vegetables and lean meat, and almost never eat junk food. What the hell is going on?”
She doesn’t know what the hell is going on. My thyroid was tested via bloodwork a little over a year ago and seemed fine, but I don’t have reflexes and apparently that is a sign of Very Bad Thyroid. That and inexplicable weight gain. She asked about my drinking, I told her I’ve almost completely stopped since six months ago. She asked about refined sugar and starch, I told her I eat only whole grains, don’t like sweets, and use Splenda. She asked about sodas, I told her I drink water and Diet Coke. She asked about exercise, I told her to see above, re: running and Pilates. That’s when she called in a nurse with a very big needle.
It went in my neck. In my NECK, people. This very big needle went into my neck and sucked out what was, apparently, part of my thyroid. Or thyroid juice. Or something else that BURNS OH MY GOD THE BURNING. And then I got TWO STITCHES to cover a wound MADE BY A NEEDLE.
And then? I went out and bought a jump rope and even more vegetables, came home, and just cried. I don’t know what is wrong with me. I can be comfortable with being overweight, I think, except that it is now not just extra weight but a sign that Something Is Definitely Wrong. My arthritis is out of control, my blood pressure was high, and in the words of the very sweet nurse, “Oh, your heart is beating way too hard, sweetie.” I’m doing everything right and my body is not rewarding me, and I have to face the fact that it is probably my fault. I starved myself for literally all of my formative years, I spent a year drinking far too much, these are things that I did and now I have to face some consequences and what do I do? I cry. I yell at Michael for keeping junk food in the house, and I cry. I am such a fucking child sometimes.
After the crying I got over myself and started playing on the computer. I ended up discussing the awesome last episode of Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles with my friend Simon, and things were better. Things were okay. This is not the end of the world, but I think I’m going to continue to freak out until I get those test results back. I’m so great with concrete actions; I am terrible with this waiting game.