fearmongering
2004-11-04

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I'm scared.

Granted, I'm hormonal, and still suffering the worst period I've had since elementary school, but yesterday's news (I'm not talking the political news here, I've already talked that one to death) shook me.

I'm sitting by the phone waiting for the doc's office to open so that I can ask a few questions that the nurse who called last night didn't know how to answer.

She called last night, y'see, not to tell me that my cardiologist appointment has been moved up or anything expected, but to tell me that my leukocyte levels on my bloodtest were still elevated.

The night I went into premature labour, it was from an unknown (but suspected to be cause by amnio) infection -- and since my leukocyte levels dropped from OHMYGODSHE'SGOINGTODIE to just "really high", and because I didn't break a fever (I rarely do, I'm freaky that way -- if my temperature hits "normal" it means there's something wrong) they assumed the infection was gone and sent me home.

I mean, every woman after labour has an elevated white blood cell count after what her body has just gone through.

So amidst all the anxiety of the past five weeks, the one thing that I didn't worry about was that the infection might return. In all the emotional terror -- that we might not have the courage to try again, that my insides were broken and my period might not come, that our marriage couldn't survive this kind of strain, that I'd never be able to face my coworkers again -- amidst the thousand battling fears that sunk their tiny teeth into my skull, I never once worried that whatever had caused the infection might be something wrong with me. I managed to keep that one at bay.

And yesterday, just as I was putting several dozen of named fears to rest, the phone rang and a very kind-sounding nurse told me my leukocyte levels and didn't know to tell me if it was normal to still be elevated five weeks post partum.

She muttered something about how maybe I'd had a cold when I'd visited the doctor's or something, and that maybe I had a lung infection -- but as a post-smoker I know how good my lungs feel right now.

So I'm panicking. I'm waiting for the office to open, to ask my question, and to make an appointment for a week or more from now when we can bleed me again and hope that this is all over-reaction.

And in other news, I'm seeing my coworkers tomorrow afternoon. They're taking the afternoon off (apparently there's no work around when I'm not there to muckrake it up) and holing themselves up with me, several bottles of wine, and a kitchenfull of pad-thai.

They've been calling all week to check up on me, one at a time, all crowded together listening to the phone. My previous thoughts of moving on as soon as I get back are swiftly waning with each re-iteration of how much they miss me. Me, those really normal and well-adjusted people miss me.

I think today is just going to be one of those really confused days. Regularly scheduled ranting and dreaming will resume sometime next week.

And cf, I think I have an answer to your question, but I don't think I like it one bit, and it means that the poetry would die too.

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1 comments on this spew so far

backup ..random chance.. rollover

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Last few Rants:

I guess this is goodbye. - 11:57 a.m. , 2005-02-10
Endorphins, stress, and magickal mystery - 5:07 p.m. , 2005-02-02
stress, incoming - 4:42 p.m. , 2005-01-28
heaving great happy sighs - 3:05 p.m. , 2005-01-24
Imposter syndrome strikes again - 1:20 p.m. , 2005-01-19