Well today was an experience.
This is, no doubt, to be the first in a short line of medical related entries, albeit with a tentative start. I’m building myself up to talking about the whole thing on-line because the topic needs shouting about from the rooftops. I will make it humorous and light hearted when I get my head around it all. But at the moment I’m still feeling a bit delicate and a touch embarrassed, just like the other woman in every 8 who has the same problem as me.
Today I had a test. It was unpleasant and unladylike, and made worse because I burst into tears in the middle of it, as is my wont. The consultant said she had “seen worse reactions” and “at least I didn’t try to get off the bed during the test”. There was no chance of that happening – I was too scared to move.
A lot of time was spent with the lovely consultant and nurse trying to distract me by talking about Whitby and rabbits while I was in quite some discomfort. There is a time and a place for discussion about the benefits of male rabbit castration in my opinion, but their hearts were in the right place.
Anyway the whole excruciating experience proved I have a problem but thankfully not a terrible one. And it proved I need to do something about it. Which is a date in the next few months and a topic for another day.
I am a bit down, but hopeful I guess.
This is me dealing with something that I’ve ignored for as long as possible. Sound familiar? If it does then maybe reading about my situation might help. Or you could take the “la la I’m not listening” approach, I wouldn’t blame you.