Panic Attack
I went for this month's progesterone test after lunch yesterday. Something about sitting there, waiting to have my blood drawn, tugged at my psyche in a harsh way. The wait was longer than last month. The lobby was scattered with waiting bodies, most of the people weren't alone, giving the room a crowded feel. I flipped through an outdated magazine, coming across some article about how a woman's marriage had fallen apart after she'd gotten fat after having two kids. It had nothing to do with me, but it stirred up fears in my heart about the survival of my marriage if we can't have kids.
The phlebotomist chose that moment, when the tears were in my eyes and I felt the most vulnerable, to call me to the back for my turn. She seemed to have the same instinctual timing of a server asking how the meal is going at a restaurant.
We walked to the back. I've been to the lab before, but I 'd never noticed how the office resembled a labyrinth. Suddenly I was hoping for a cheerful Cockney inch worm to brighten my day. Instead I'm lead to an isolated room by a silent worker. We took our positions, her at the desk and me in the chair, and we went through the motions of the a routine blood taking.
There was an awful moment when I couldn't breathe. I'm not afraid of needles, so it was very confusing. She was coming at me with the needle I just wanted to cry. I wanted to leap out of the chair and run. My chest hurt and my arm went numb. My heart was racing in a way that would've scared me, if I didn't know what was going on.
This simple blood test is starting to mean too much. My life is losing its hope to this reality.
I left the lab and drove to Starbucks. I knew Dimas, my old boss, would be working and I really needed a hug from someone outside of the situation, but still cared about me.
I don't understand why I'm so overwhelmed by all of this. It's a simple test, innocuous and separate of the purpose, but it still drains more of me than just my blood sample. The very fact that we're having to do this breaks my heart.
How much adversity can one couple take?
The phlebotomist chose that moment, when the tears were in my eyes and I felt the most vulnerable, to call me to the back for my turn. She seemed to have the same instinctual timing of a server asking how the meal is going at a restaurant.
We walked to the back. I've been to the lab before, but I 'd never noticed how the office resembled a labyrinth. Suddenly I was hoping for a cheerful Cockney inch worm to brighten my day. Instead I'm lead to an isolated room by a silent worker. We took our positions, her at the desk and me in the chair, and we went through the motions of the a routine blood taking.
There was an awful moment when I couldn't breathe. I'm not afraid of needles, so it was very confusing. She was coming at me with the needle I just wanted to cry. I wanted to leap out of the chair and run. My chest hurt and my arm went numb. My heart was racing in a way that would've scared me, if I didn't know what was going on.
This simple blood test is starting to mean too much. My life is losing its hope to this reality.
I left the lab and drove to Starbucks. I knew Dimas, my old boss, would be working and I really needed a hug from someone outside of the situation, but still cared about me.
I don't understand why I'm so overwhelmed by all of this. It's a simple test, innocuous and separate of the purpose, but it still drains more of me than just my blood sample. The very fact that we're having to do this breaks my heart.
How much adversity can one couple take?
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