Trigger warnings for… I’m not sure what. Trauma, miscarriage, mental health? It’s a bit of a jumble of thoughts, really.
So I trundled off up to the hospital yesterday for some random tests (I’m fine, it’s only minor stuff) and I’ve been given some medication. As part of this, I was Strongly Warned that I shouldn’t be taking it while pregnant. Hah, no, no plans to get pregnant. And that was…ok. I felt fine with it. It didn’t feel weird to say or think; it was just a Thing. I’m not planning on having children, and that’s ok.
And the nice thing, I realised afterwards, is that the doctor actually listened to me. At no point did anyone try to change my mind, disagree, tell me that I’d want children eventually, disapprove… considering there’s a lot of stories of women whose medical advisors don’t listen to them – particularly when it comes to not wanting children! – I’m incredibly grateful for the empathy and understanding that I get from most of the medical professionals that I’ve interacted with. (I make an exception for one doctor, but I try to be charitable and assume things got lost in translation with them.)
I also had to mention the miscarriages, and that was actually kinda weird. The doctor’s reaction was sympathy, and I can understand that – it’s a shitty thing to happen to anyone, and if anyone told me that they’d had the same experience, I’d be entirely sympathetic. But actually, I’m ok with it. I’m not particularly sad, or traumatised, or… whatever I should be feeling. It sucked at the time, but I think sort of expecting it to happen helped soften the blows. It’s crap to have one miscarriage, let alone three, but it’s not as big a deal as it could have been. Which isn’t to say that it’s not for other people, and it shouldn’t be treated as such: miscarriages fucking suck balls, particularly after 12 weeks. I’m just saying that I think I’ve come to terms with mine – which is good, I think. A little worrying, maybe? I wonder if I’ve repressed it or something, especially as I’ve been feeling grey for a while. But I don’t really know how you find out if you’re repressing stuff (especially as I’m ok talking about it) so… I guess I just don’t worry about it too much?
It’s fairly easy to figure out when you’re not dealing well with something. I don’t really know how you figure out if you are dealing well with it, beyond it… not really being a problem.
I’m also incredibly grateful for the NHS. I trogged around four different departments and it cost me £9 plus a bus fare – and that’s for two blood tests (same arm – I was GRUMPY), a batch of about six other tests, a chat with two doctors and a nurse, a pile of pills and the promise of check-ups. All for less than £15!
I was also very grateful to not be blown off about any of the problems I asked people about. It’s reassuring to be listened to and given solutions, particularly when for most of my life the solution has been “oh, you’ll grow out of it” or “GENERIC PILLS” or one of a list of standard things that I’ve tried and haven’t helped. So that was nice.
My work also rock; I got in and, in the words of Otter, looked a “bit grey”. (I took that to mean “have you seriously just walked out of one of our Zombie games?!”) David got me tea, the Boss told me to drink it, and I got to just chill for a bit until I was less shaky. It’s really nice to just have my limitations accepted! (And be fed tea on request.)
Also, I got a red bean bun from Rachel’s as a treat for not fainting during the blood draws. GO ME! (Also also: it’s still a point of serious pissed-off-ness that I’m not allowed to give blood because I faint. Like, seriously?!)
So, there we go: a Kate ramble of thoughts and weirdness for today.