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ontologyThe good news is that having my blood drawn was not quite as horrifying as anticipation had built it up to be. The worst part was trying to relax -- and then afterwards seeing the great vial of my blood on the table (I'd put my hand over my eyes and turned my head away and thought of Ten in spectacles while the actual deed was being done), which was larger than my longest finger. Unless the worst part was waiting, because things always are worse the longer the anticipation. I had to wait quite some time, because we'd somehow misplaced the sheet that told the lab people what to do with my blood after they took it out (Mum insists she gave it to me; I have no memory of this at all), so I had to sit in one waiting room while poor wee Leandra got checkup and a round of shots, which I take she was not pleased about, and she was exhausted afterwards. Then we had to go to another branch of the hospital and I had to sit in another waiting area with a number, waiting for someone to call it, for twenty-five minutes, while I tried to concentrate on Madeleine L'Engle (and mostly succeeded, actually).
The bad news is that I woke up this morning feeling thoroughly rotten, and it hasn't really let up much since. I wasn't allowed to eat before getting my blood drawn, and by late morning, when I finally got ravenous (I usually have difficulty eating breakfast anyway), it sort of displaced the nausea for a while. After lunch, though, it came rushing back. It's much better when I'm sitting or lying down -- I get dizzy if I stand up for too long -- but it's still there, pushing and prodding and turning my insides over and around in funny directions. I have a suspicion it's a mild reaction to the immunisations I got yesterday (you do get a mild version of the disease, usually, though it isn't always noticeable).
And, er, I reckon I didn't make myself very clear yesterday evening when I posted (my brain was not especially full of clarity anyway), but the doctor and I did talk about the depression, which was one of the reasons for the blood tests -- to see if there's a medical reason for it, other than the usual medical reasons for depression; maybe thyroid problems or -- something. She also prescribed me a medication for my acne, which I am very pleased about; I have been fighting with a nasty strain of acne since I began puberty (I was -- twelve?) and nothing's ever worked completely. I was allergic to the first stuff (that stuff you get at Wal-Mart, sort of sharp smelling), and mildly allergic to Proactive. I've been using Dial Soap, which works better than anything else has, but hasn't completely eradicated the problem (I still get vicious breakouts sometimes), and also dries my skin out badly, so I have to combat that with Eucerin. BLARGH, COSMETICS. I don't even want perfect skin (hasn't got any texture, v. dull): I just want it to stop having nasty red bump and patches all over it, ugh.
So, yeah, blood tests + Mum looking into the counselling the doctor recommended which is covered by our medical assistance, I think -- and I really don't want to go on any medications until I talk to someone (unless it turns out that I have some mad disease that exists only to make me unhappy and unable to create -- that's the worst bit of all, you know? I don't mind being gloomy and dour and irritable as much as I mind not being able to write), and, um, this sentence has ceased to make sense.
Also, the Men have gone away (camping), so Mum and Heidi and Leandra and I have the house to ourselves and plan to have pork chops (Dad can't eat them because his teeth are bad) and chocolatey things, hurrah! Also, DOCTOR WHO ON SATURDAY. And, um, my birthday next Sunday. Which is sort of frightening, now that it's suddenly leapt up and waved its arms distractingly.
The bad news is that I woke up this morning feeling thoroughly rotten, and it hasn't really let up much since. I wasn't allowed to eat before getting my blood drawn, and by late morning, when I finally got ravenous (I usually have difficulty eating breakfast anyway), it sort of displaced the nausea for a while. After lunch, though, it came rushing back. It's much better when I'm sitting or lying down -- I get dizzy if I stand up for too long -- but it's still there, pushing and prodding and turning my insides over and around in funny directions. I have a suspicion it's a mild reaction to the immunisations I got yesterday (you do get a mild version of the disease, usually, though it isn't always noticeable).
And, er, I reckon I didn't make myself very clear yesterday evening when I posted (my brain was not especially full of clarity anyway), but the doctor and I did talk about the depression, which was one of the reasons for the blood tests -- to see if there's a medical reason for it, other than the usual medical reasons for depression; maybe thyroid problems or -- something. She also prescribed me a medication for my acne, which I am very pleased about; I have been fighting with a nasty strain of acne since I began puberty (I was -- twelve?) and nothing's ever worked completely. I was allergic to the first stuff (that stuff you get at Wal-Mart, sort of sharp smelling), and mildly allergic to Proactive. I've been using Dial Soap, which works better than anything else has, but hasn't completely eradicated the problem (I still get vicious breakouts sometimes), and also dries my skin out badly, so I have to combat that with Eucerin. BLARGH, COSMETICS. I don't even want perfect skin (hasn't got any texture, v. dull): I just want it to stop having nasty red bump and patches all over it, ugh.
So, yeah, blood tests + Mum looking into the counselling the doctor recommended which is covered by our medical assistance, I think -- and I really don't want to go on any medications until I talk to someone (unless it turns out that I have some mad disease that exists only to make me unhappy and unable to create -- that's the worst bit of all, you know? I don't mind being gloomy and dour and irritable as much as I mind not being able to write), and, um, this sentence has ceased to make sense.
Also, the Men have gone away (camping), so Mum and Heidi and Leandra and I have the house to ourselves and plan to have pork chops (Dad can't eat them because his teeth are bad) and chocolatey things, hurrah! Also, DOCTOR WHO ON SATURDAY. And, um, my birthday next Sunday. Which is sort of frightening, now that it's suddenly leapt up and waved its arms distractingly.
