August 26, 2008

My doc’s office was back today and they were so much more efficient and professional than the GYNs who’ve been following me, it was amazing. No waiting for more tests, they sent me today to have them done. But the answer isn’t what I wanted to hear, the blood test today was more than double last week and so it is almost certainly an ectopic pregnancy. I have a special type of ultrasound scheduled on Wednesday morning with some kind of sub-specialized radiologist to confirm the diagnosis (and, I presume, set the treatment ball in motion).

I also have an appointment to see my doc next Monday, his first day back, which means his secretary really thinks it’s important, because she is a pit bull with his schedule.

Of course, this all comes during a busy time at work – I’m at a week-long conference about 75minutes from Paris where I am running a part of the meeting and of course responsible for my team, but I’m not letting that get in the way.  I’ll miss dinner tomorrow night and all the morning on Wednesday, a colleague will take my team with hers for the morning.

It’s hard coming up with credible and not-too-lying excuses but I’m just worn out by the worry and that is not one I’m adding to my list.  I told my boss I had a medical appointment I had to have at that time, no context, no explanation beyond that, and with everyone else I’ll be even more vague, just saying I have some personal business.

Meanwhile today I kept a food diary for the first time in ages – with calories and all (always such an eye-opener).  And the scale was kind, down 1, which I needed to see because I was really feeling like I didn’t much care these past few days, and that helped me back into action.

This whole thing is harder on me than I’m liking to admit.  I keep trying to stay level-headed and calm about it all, but in reality I want to cry and scream and rant at the unfairness of it all.  I try to keep it together for myself and those around me — for myself to not fall into a pit of depression, and for my husband to show that I’m really trying to be “logical” and move forward.  But there are moments when that seems damn near impossible, and right now as I’m writing this is one.  Going to pick up my stepson from school today (which I did as a “favor” although I didn’t exactly volunteer) felt hard.  And I love the kid, and 99% of the time I am happy he is there, but today having to be face to face with the fact that my DH already has a child and me not being sure I ever will…. well, it was hard.

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