Hi, again.

I’m mad at myself for not getting a post on here yesterday, and did I miss the day before that too? I don’t even know.

I was supposed to have an appointment tomorrow, but I canceled it because the pain I made the appointment for (I assumed it was an ovarian cyst) has gotten better – it’s still there, but not nearly as bad as it has been for the past month. I feel thankful for that.

Now, there are plenty of other reasons I could have gone for (Adenomyosis is flaring up very badly currently…), and I’m not too convinced that the original problem is resolved, but, I just didn’t feel like dealing with what a doctors appointment entails. Not tomorrow. Not soon.

I hate these feelings I get around appointments. Heightened anxiety creeping in my mind as the days count down to the day. As the actual day rolls around, and the clock counts down, ever so quickly might I add, I feel nauseated, I can’t eat, and I experience severe stomach pain.

And then I have to go to the appointment.

That usually involves me reading off a list of issues (I write them down so I don’t forget anything, because forgetfulness is another side effect of anxiety), to which the doctor answers the questions they can. They perform the exams and ask the awkward questions, possibly schedule some type of test such as a scan or taking blood, and then dole out the ‘appropriate’ prescriptions that I then have to consider before I fill them. (I say that because most medications aren’t very kind to me and I’m frustrated with trying them.)

This is not to mention the tendencies that proceed during and after going to a doctors office, as somebody who has severe OCD. I have to clean everything I bring there afterward. (That has gotten better as I’ve become so fatigued from the anxiety and depression after an appointment, but I still do a lot of disinfecting. That alone is enough to make me cancel.)

Yep, and then the rest of the day I feel exhausted. I’m talking about how I normally feel times 1,000. That strange transition of amped up anxiety to leaving and going home.

The anxiety for future tests if they were scheduled, anxiety for any follow-up appointments I need to attend.

The heightened anxiety drains out of me as much as it can, and then what follows is the deep depression.

Depression about my prognosis; depression about having to feel so anxious, making a fool of myself, not receiving answers or help, and not ever wanting to feel those ways again.

Depression about having to clean everything once I get home, but getting home and comfy in bed is all I want to do. But not before the need to clean a ton.

Depression about not feeling any better, about the medications not helping, about nothing solving the issue once and for all.

So… that is why I canceled my appointment.

TMTF (tired mind typing fingers)

Photo via Pixabay


Author: tiredmindtypingfingers

Writing about writing and chronic illness, and trying to make something out of it.

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