That about sums up the past six weeks.
Last month, I found out news from my doctor that was more serious than I anticipated. This whole time, I’ve though, my stomach is broken, my gallbladder is broken, I’m allergic to something, I’m doing something wrong.
The last time I saw my doctor in mid-June, my blood results showed that my hormones are completely out of whack. Due to a tumor on my pituitary gland, possibly, or shitty choices I made that have caused permanent damage to my body. I’m not sure yet. My progesterone and estrogen (sex hormone) levels were very low and my luteinizing hormone and follice-stimulating hormone (both produced by the pituitary gland) were almost non-existent. What does this mean? Basically, it signals low ovary function and could lead to infertility. I’m not sure how much damage has already been done. My doctor referred me to an endocrinologist, a doctor who specializes in hormones and hormonal disorders, but my call with them today didn’t go as anticipated.
“It sounds like Dr. —— reviewed your lab tests and he said everything looks perfect, he will not see you. I can see if another doctor will review your blood tests and maybe you could make an appointment with someone else?”
What. The. Actual. Fuck.
(If you can’t tell, I’m a little upset.)
As of right now, I am EXTREMELY confused, irritated, and at a loss for words. I don’t even know where to go from here. I talked to my doctor, who said she was hesitant to refer me elsewhere, because they, too, might just give me the run-around.
My doctor’s intention was to start me on hormone replacement therapy to build up my very low hormone levels. I quit taking my birth control a month ago today, which is miserable and emotional. I can’t start the hormones yet, so I’m just waiting. At this point, I’m not even sure what direction we are heading or what is going to happen.
My anxiety is high, I’m depressed and unmotivated. At times like this, I fail to use my healthy coping mechanisms, like working out, writing, photography, and instead resort to drinking, shopping online, and watching tv. I’ve been spending at least one day a weekend on the couch, with the curtains closed, hungover or just too sad to move. Sometimes both. I hate that I haven’t been blogging, but every time I sit down to try to edit a photo I get too fucking sad and overwhelmed by the fact that I can’t even try to figure out how to white balance this particular photo or I think it’s just so ugly, I don’t even want to look at it.
I turn inward.
I don’t even like sharing this here, on my own safe little corner of the internet, for fear that people will think it’s a cry for attention, a complaint, just another stupid thing. I don’t want pity and sympathy. I don’t want you to feel sorry for me. Writing, for me, is just an outlet – A way to cry and move on. A way to get it out, so I can build myself up again. It’s therapeutic. I am so very hard on myself, especially in times like this. I blame myself. I blame myself for everything, from my excruciating stomach pain to the fact that my hormones don’t work to another night that I can’t do the dishes because I really just don’t have the energy. How can I blog when it’s all I can do to keep my house clean? How can I create recipes and take photos when it’s all I can do to stuff another grilled chicken breast in my mouth as my boyfriend reminds me, gently, you have to eat dinner, babe. You have to eat. When my appetite evaporates and I’d much rather fill my stomach with vodka and seltzer water because food sounds awful and I’d rather take a mental vacation from myself. I’m sad that I’m twenty five years old and don’t want to take care of myself, don’t want to get out of bed, or go to work, or cook and clean, or exercise, or do anything at all. I don’t know if the fact that I force myself to do all of these things is a victory or not. I don’t know much of anything, anymore, it feels like.
I’m sick of being tired, and I’m tired of being sick. So it goes.
I’m thankful for the people who put up with me and my complaints, thankful for my boyfriend and sister and the few friends I have who I do think truly care (although I always doubt it because why would someone want to listen to me?) and my parents and coworkers. Thankful for everyone who deals with me and all my shit and brightens my day even a little.
I’ve been struggling with worsening symptoms the past month or so, possibly due to quitting birth control and my hormone levels falling even more, but now I’m questioning if anything is even wrong after the specialist turned me away. If it’s just in my head. I told one of my coworkers today, I swear, if anyone else tells me that nothing is wrong, my head might literally explode.
My brain is constantly foggy, with gaps appearing in sentences and words falling out of my brain. I can’t concentrate on much at all. I lose what I am saying, lose track of time. Driving is a blur. I lose minutes, hours, somewhere in my mind. My lower abdominal pain is excruciating. For a while, I think it improved a little, but it’s much worse again. Whether it’s cramps or my colon or my stomach, I don’t really know. I just know eating is hard, I’m bloated, the pain is so bad it leaves me doubled over and crying. The pain and exhaustion leaves me crying on my boyfriend’s shoulder, his arms wrapped around me, barely able to choke out the words I’m just so tired of this.
I’m going to end this with one of my favorite songs by my favorite musician, that wraps up what I’m feeling and thinking a little. Thanks for reading.
‘Don’t let me tumble away
Into the throws of the shadowy bay
I cling to the rock, and it’s crumbling off
Toss me a heavy rope
It’s a slippery slope
Come bail me out of this godforsaken precipice
Oh I’m not a lost cause
I’m just stuck in this spot
And I’m close to falling off
So toss me a heavy rope
It’s a slippery slope
Come bail me out of this godforsaken precipice’