September is gearing up to be a busy month and while I'm pumped for it, I'm also looking at my very full plate and starting to panic. So I cleared everything from my schedule this week and hunkered down with some TV and knitting.
I made a doctor's appointment last week, and I think it's affecting me more than I realized. The appointment is with a Reproductive Endocrinologist, so Ben and I can meet with them and talk about our options. When I made the appointment the people were friendly (even when my cell phone cut out twice during the call), kind, and I had a follow-up email within minutes of hanging up the phone.
Two minutes later I was fighting the urge to cry. I couldn't figure out why I was freaking out so much - we have plenty of time to fill out paperwork, Ben and I have clear ideas about what we want/don't want, and we have no problem expressing that to the staff, and they were nothing but helpful on the phone.
It took me awhile, but I realized something's wrong.
I mean, logically, I know something is wrong - I have PCOS for goodness' sake - but this is the first time I've gone to a doctor for that reason alone. It's nerve-wracking. It's unknown territory. And I'm quietly terrified they're going to tell us the problem is bigger than we thought and I honestly don't know if I can handle that.
For a long time it seemed to me that real life was about to begin, but there was always some obstacle in the way. Something had to be taken care of first, some unfinished business; time still to be served, a debt to be paid. Then life would begin. At last, it dawned on me that these obstacles are my life, and I am living it.
- Bette Howland
This is life. As much as sometimes I don't want to deal with things or think about things, this is what I'm doing, what I'm living. This is my life.