The shrink and the GP have been talking, apparently the GP is less delicate with words or remembering her lies than the ol P-doc and to be honest I’m a touch miffed after a phone call version of an appointment which was on the surface exactly what it was supposed to be.
GP actually called, organised & booked the cat scan on our behalf and it’s on Monday at noon so no complaints on speedy service there, she also said to text her if I need to see her urgently in future to skip the road-blocking receptionist which I appreciate.
The bit that miffed me, and forgive me if I’m being way too sensitive, was that our lovely pdoc had told US she’d ask the GP to prescribe something for the pain but the GP said it had been suggested to HER that she prescribe us Valium.
Now, I’m no pharmacist but Valium ain’t much of a pain killer, in my experience it’s been used more as a drug to make you “go the fuck to sleep you manic pain in the ass”.
So apparently it would seem that the shrink and the GP are actually assuming the nausea and abdominal pain, inability to functionally excrete water & body waste (that was about as delicate as I could put it) etc that we’ve been bitching about is just due to fucking anxiety, whereas I thought it was more likely related to my squished up internal organs competing for breathing room.
The fact I’m having trouble with this statement is all my own and I get that, I also get that I could have taken it out of context as I wasn’t present for their chat, but TBH it triggers some rather heavy deep seeded old issues I have relating to not being believed – particularly about medical issues – and it’s adding a new layer of trust-issue regarding the shrink as she’d seemingly believed it was physical pain we were experiencing not psychic pain and so I’m not necessarily validly pissed off but pissed off none the less that she possibly actually didn’t really feel that way and was lying to make us feel better (which I despise more than anything) and honestly that feels like a betrayal – despite annoying “logical” voices in my head saying it’s probably not intentional, I’m fighting the urge to impulsively cancel all future shrink appointments and go it alone.
So of course this shit eats at my brain and I’m stressing that the abdominal orange is purely a figment of our anxious little imagination and the CT is going to come back completely normal – which honestly would feel like a far worse outcome for me than anything else as I absolutely cant deal with the level of humiliation involved.
Parts of us have of course been stressing it’s cancer, but like stressing for the wrong god damn reasons – I personally totally wouldn’t care if we were given a terminal diagnosis with a week to live, God knows we’ve been harping on about offing ourselves for long enough now, maybe we should get on with it already?
I think I’m pretty much hoping for either a “yeah there’s a thing there but it’s an easy fix just take these pills twice a day for a week” OR a cancer diagnosis because that is like permission from God to die. It also means I get to refuse treatment because there’s no point and at least there’s a damn end to it all and bonus points… it’s not technically committing suicide.
Plus I could then get us out of seeing the gynaecologist in September legitimately rather than just canning the appointment at the last minute without telling anyone and pretending there was a terrible mix up.
What I’m genuinely anxious about (read: fucking terrified of) is that it’s some sort of benign thing that won’t kill us but will continue to grow make us more and more uncomfortable forever unless we have surgery; and surgery is not on the table (pardon the pun).
I’m not having a bunch of blue hat, booty wearing, gown clad people fiddling with our bits and cutting us open I don’t care how “asleep” we supposedly are, they can fuck right off and if they drag us in there without my personal express permission I refuse to live with more trauma flashbacks and so I guarantee we will NOT be waking up from that procedure and I know EXACTLY how to make that happen!
So yeah okay I admit I’m anxious but it’s because I want to know WHAT this fucking thing is so I can a) prove that it’s “real” and b) plan my next move accordingly without having to deal with fucking family and friends interfering with what BS they want us to do. Fuck them, fuck Valium, I’m sick of rolling over to make everyone else happy, this isn’t their fucking choice.