I have fond memories of going to the fair when I was younger. There was one ride in particular that was my favourite. It’s sort of a round cage made up of individual cages and there aren’t any straps or seatbelts. Everyone gets in and faces inwards. The cage starts spinning faster and faster as the cage moves up. Eventually your spinning so fast that you’re pinned to the solid wall of the cage. You can try as much as you want but once that cage is spinning you ain’t moving. Even screaming is impossible as you can barely breathe. All you see is the whirl of colour infront of you. It seems like the whole world is moving at this fast rate. Once you’re back down and the ride has stopped you are all wobbly and light headed from stepping down back on solid ground. Your heart is beating fast and you’re breathing starts to even out.
This is exactly how I felt last week. The gynae tells me that my papsmear results have come back irregular. This a cancer test for those of you that don’t know. My heart dropped to me toes! But according to him ‘irregular’ could mean any number of things. Not that I cared, all I cared about was that I didn’t have the dreaded C. I’ll admit to giving into panic for a few seconds. He scheduled more tests for me on friday so that we could get out of the way. He also wanted me to do a diabetes test and a hormone test.
By Friday morning I was a wreck. I was up the whole night worried about the implications of this tests and I played a million scenarios in my mind about the outcome. The day definitely did not get better. I had to give 9 viles of blood over a four hour period. Nine viles! And for the glucose test I had to drink a Warm glass of glucose water every half an hour. After the second glass I was ready to throw up and run for home. The nurses had to persuade me not to give up.
After the 3rd vile of blood was taken the veins in my arms stopped giving up blood. The nurses had to then find more accomodation veins for the other 6 rounds. They tried Everywhere, and I mean everywhere. At one stage the nurse had the needle in mine and just kep moving it and poking it around hoping to find something. I had over a dozen of those little cotton balls taped to various parts of my body. I was exhausted as it was a fasting test and I wasn’t allowed to eat and I was incredibly emotional. At one stage I was sniffling and struggling not to get start bawling. It took all my self control not to.
I guess I shouldn’t have been so upset, people have gone through worse but looking back I don’t think it was the nausea or the loss of blood that was making me feel so bad. It was the reason behind the tests. I consider myself a strong person, I usually deal with shit and move on. A few years ago I started this whole ‘positive thinking’ campaign and I’ve been successful. I don’t get depressed, I hardly even get those down days. I talk myself out of a negative mood. But on Saturday I couldn’t do that. I sank into a deep pit of gloom. I was irritable and frustrated and annoyed and depressed and just being not me. I ended up crying and fighting with Hubby and he couldn’t understand what was wrong because I myself didn’t know what was wrong. The last time this happened was the last time I went to the gynae and he told me about the PCOS and my fertility issues.
After some self reflection I realised that this could be my weakness. If a few simple tests bring me to my knees what will happen further along the line because I’m only just at the beginning of this whole process. And what makes it worse is that I know countless women that have gone through the very same thing and they’ve come out on top.
The end result is what’s important right? And the end result is a baby. But there’s a little voice in the back of my end telling me something about myself that I don’t like. Its saying that maybe all of this pain, expense, emotional roller coasters and worst of all, fighting with my husband, isn’t worth the end result. (I’m waiting for lightening to strike me down). And I know it’s wrong to think this way. Its every woman’s dream to have children, right? So what’s wrong with me? Why don’t I feel that way? There are moments when all I want in the world is to have a little baby of my own. Someone to love and cherish. But there’s moments like now where I can’t picture myself a mother, where I’m so selfish that it’s only my comfort and that of my husband’s that I have in mind. This shouldn’t be the normal behaviour of any woman Trying to have a baby, should it?
I’m feeling a little bit better today but that’s only until I have to see the gynae again. Who knows what could happen after that. I don’t know how to sort through these feelings. I don’t know if I’m allowed to feel this way. I just don’t know.