Bravery (For Me, Anyway)
So, all summer long, I've been fighting this chronic upset stomach.
Today, I finally called and made an appointment with my internist to see if we can't figure out what's going on.
This feels like a really huge thing because ...I'm kind of terrified of doctors now.
I KNOW it's irrational. I KNOW that this is a holdover from the Pain Years, when I saw a lot of doctors trying to pin point the cause of my foot pain.
Which we never did. But that didn't stop me from having six million shots into my poor, disabled foot. And then those shots caused me to develop a hole in my retina that was bleeding so I got to have shots IN MY EYE to try to fix that. (It stopped bleeding. I still have a hole.)
And all the time, you know, that excruciating, soul sucking pain. My GP putting me on Cymbalta, which was like having a lobotomy (for me--I'm not saying that's the case for everyone.) My podiatrist telling me that life in a wheelchair might be the answer as he filled out my handicapped parking sticker application and checked the "permanent" box. All that time on the couch, trying to live through fifteen minutes at a time. The events at my kids' schools that I couldn't go to because I couldn't walk the halls.
The times I cried in front of them.
I know none of this is the fault of my doctors. I know that I had good doctors who had very real desires to help me. But it's all tied up for me emotionally.
I know this fear I have is Post Traumatic Stress. It's just that I fear so much going back to that bad place, you know?
So, I've been sitting with this fear today and rationally talking myself through it and being nice to myself and logically running through all of the reasons why this stomach thing, NO MATTER WHAT IT IS, is not going to ruin my life. Why finding out what's going on may be as simple as finding out I have an allergy to wheat (which is what I suspect.)
I'm trying to still my inner turmoil enough to listen for the still small voice. I'm reaching out for support to people who care about me, because that feels healthy and brave. And I am breathing in and out, trying to access my inner peace.
And as long as I'm doing things that make me feel brave and strong: I have a guest post up at Derfwad Manor. You should go read it if you want to know more about my bosom.
Today, I finally called and made an appointment with my internist to see if we can't figure out what's going on.
This feels like a really huge thing because ...I'm kind of terrified of doctors now.
I KNOW it's irrational. I KNOW that this is a holdover from the Pain Years, when I saw a lot of doctors trying to pin point the cause of my foot pain.
Which we never did. But that didn't stop me from having six million shots into my poor, disabled foot. And then those shots caused me to develop a hole in my retina that was bleeding so I got to have shots IN MY EYE to try to fix that. (It stopped bleeding. I still have a hole.)
And all the time, you know, that excruciating, soul sucking pain. My GP putting me on Cymbalta, which was like having a lobotomy (for me--I'm not saying that's the case for everyone.) My podiatrist telling me that life in a wheelchair might be the answer as he filled out my handicapped parking sticker application and checked the "permanent" box. All that time on the couch, trying to live through fifteen minutes at a time. The events at my kids' schools that I couldn't go to because I couldn't walk the halls.
The times I cried in front of them.
I know none of this is the fault of my doctors. I know that I had good doctors who had very real desires to help me. But it's all tied up for me emotionally.
I know this fear I have is Post Traumatic Stress. It's just that I fear so much going back to that bad place, you know?
So, I've been sitting with this fear today and rationally talking myself through it and being nice to myself and logically running through all of the reasons why this stomach thing, NO MATTER WHAT IT IS, is not going to ruin my life. Why finding out what's going on may be as simple as finding out I have an allergy to wheat (which is what I suspect.)
I'm trying to still my inner turmoil enough to listen for the still small voice. I'm reaching out for support to people who care about me, because that feels healthy and brave. And I am breathing in and out, trying to access my inner peace.
And as long as I'm doing things that make me feel brave and strong: I have a guest post up at Derfwad Manor. You should go read it if you want to know more about my bosom.
Comments
I'm with you on the doctor fear.
I have resisted and ... waited and fudged and futzed around... and I should go.
I know the feeling.
Also, I know the feeling of The Girls cutting off your breathing when you try to exercise; my high school PE wardrobe included two ace bandages for purposes of wrapping around my torso (they didn't make sports bras in my size). Good luck in your search. Meanwhile, the pictures gave me a good laugh.
And I loved reading about your bosom. I think everyone should go over to Derfwad Manor and read what you have to say about lifejacket yoga.
I understand the post pain syndrome issues,but as the others have said, better to go and remove the doubt. You can then get on with your life.
As for taming the girls - I am also well-endowed, and have found the Moving Comfort bra line to be excellent at keeping them under control when I am running (and I have run for many years, so comfort is a HUGE issue). They have different lines for different sports, but I would recommend just about anything in their High impact line. I know yoga is not "high impact" in the normal meaning of the phrase ( unless I have been doing it wrong for the last two years, which is entirely possible), but the bras are double lined, with 3 or 4 hooks and Velcro straps and they have started making them in other colours besides black and white.
I do, however, love the idea of a lifejacket in my practice. It might do wonders for my shivasana....
Good luck, sweetie.
Did ready your contribution on Dove's Today. Made me laugh! A lot! That's how I ended up here, and am loving it.