Thank God for Caleb. I honestly don’t know what I’d do without that man.
I went to the doctor today, although the entire 30 minute drive there was spent trying to convince my husband that it was not a neccessary trip. I felt so good today, maybe a little jittery, but that was just nervousness.
When we finally had our face-to-face time (after the customary pee-in-the-cup ritual) with the man, he asked point blank:
"So, what can we do for you?"
I DON’T KNOW, DOC. THAT’S WHAT YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO TELL ME.
"I’ve spoken to your ob/gyn doctor. The symptoms you discussed with her–are you still having them?"
YOU’VE SPOKEN TO MY GYNECOLOGIST? WHAT DO YOU KNOW?
"Has there ever been a time when your husband says you’re not right?"
And this is when my knight in shining armor pipes up, "Do you mean, has there ever been a time when she is right? No."
I had to bust out my trusty list of problems in order to remember everything I wanted to say, but I got through it, and by the time I did, the doctor was ready.
"I’m not so sure about the manic depression. I think what we have here is more a case of depression with anxiety. I’d like you to try this medicine that should put you on an even keel–and I’ll see you in 2 weeks."
YOU’VE SPOKEN TO MY GYNECOLOGIST?
Okay, that was the very boiled down version. We asked 2 million questions, reviewed all the facts plus some obscure possibilities. The doctor was extremely thorough. He ordered blood work, went over all the options, and came up with a gameplan as far as future treatment went. Overall, I felt pretty satisfied with the appointment.
Depression and anxiety. Anxiety. Anxiety. Anxiety? I’m going to be trying a little something called Lexapro (sp?). Apparently it’s all the rage among people such as myself, and it’s (of course!) said to be very helpful in treating symptoms of depression. I’m told I will feel a difference in my mood within 7-10 days, with the full effects of the drug kicking in after about a month. A pill full of goodness and love once a day, every day, for as long as it’s helping. Great. In theory, I should be able to easily wean myself off of it when we’re ready to get pregnant, but I was hoping I could only take it long enough to get me out of this funk, and then prevent another "episode" entirely with diet and exercise, journals, yoga and all that stupid bullsh*t…
I know, I know. It’s just a thought. I can’t stand that I need medication (expensive medication at that) for something so seemingly ridiculous (in my mind) as ANXIETY. I don’t even understand what that means. Anxiety from what? How? When did I develop this? The depression, I understand…sort of. I’m weepy and tired and unmotivated. Textbook depression, right? Easily accepted. Guess I better do some more research.
I will be writing about this more, I’m sure, in weeks to come, but hopefully I can tone it down a little, at least to where my mom’s not calling me everyday and making sure I’m not going to murder something or drown in my own tears. The poor woman. I tried to make her understand that I’m just venting–yes, I do feel this way, but no, I’m not going to skip an appointment or act on any of the crazy thoughts that run through my head. They’re just thoughts. But you know moms…She’s a wonderful woman.
With everyone’s comments and all the phone calls and e-mails I’ve been getting, I feel just showered with love and attention. It does make me feel pretty damn good, just so everyone knows that their kind words and thoughts and prayers are not in vain. It’s no cure, but it’s nice to know you care. Really nice.
I will try to make it around to everybody–I’ll check out some spaces, e-mail my friends, and call my family. I’ll be a good girl. I’ll stay connected. I won’t let myself drop again. And I’ll try to write some cheerful crap everyonce in awhile. Thanks to everyone, especially my family, and most importantly, to my Caleb, who puts up with me and tries his darndest to keep me where I need to be.