Friday's medical exam

I saw my Primary Care Provider on Friday for my annual physical and pelvic exam. She ordered the usual follow-up bloodwork for my ovarian problem, as well as the consultations with my gynecologist and my endocrinologist, and we discussed that its been six months since my last menses. She wanted to know if I wanted back on the Zovia, and I told her I did not. She asked of I wanted the progesterone to force menstruation, I told her not now. She ran me the usual riot act about going so long being unhealthy for the uterus, at which point I told her women are pregnant for longer than that. She also ordered an EKG since my blood pressure is up and the damned ovarian syndrome can create cardio problems.

She offered to do my PAP, even though I have an appointment to see my gynecologist. I think she wanted to have a look around herself. Of course, she didn't have my gyn notes, so she had the wrong sized speculum (too long) and when she got up to have a look, she couldn't find my cervix. I heard her 'hmm-ing' and took pity on her, telling her to back the speculum out and look for my cervix in the opposite direction she normally would, explaning that my uterus is tipped. It flustered her a bit, but I was calm and understanding and spoke soothingly, and things smoothed out fairly quickly.

She approved of my self-refer to therapy and said to let her know if I wanted or needed anything else, as she thinks it is something I need to do, too. I've been lax in dealing with some health concerns, and I need to get onboard and participate more in my health care. I brought up to her that I am very anxious about therapy and it has been affecting my mood, especially at work--we discussed the possibility of prescribing mood-elevators or anti-depressants, and I told her that I preferred to see how therapy affected me before I went that route. She knows how much I hate taking drugs of any sort. She said to email her if I needed a prescription.

Tess has been following up with me to make sure I attend my therapy appointment. We talked about therapy and she said I really need to do it, she said she still has that nightmare from childhood every once in a great while and if it gave her nightmares then she can't imagine what its been doing to me. I had no idea what she was talking about. I remembered that she used to have nightmares and she used to crawl into my bed in the middle of the night, but I had forgotten the reason why: she was dreaming about that night my father jerked me out of bed and beat me very very very badly. Years later she was still waking up in the middle of the night screaming my name, thinking he was beating me again, and on nights when Greg was angry with me, she would sleep with me, trying to protect me the only way she knew how.

We discussed my guilt. The fact that I've felt guilty all these years for leaving home, for leaving her behind. Greg never beat her when I was around, I always focussed him on me, because it made me so angry when he hurt my sisters and I just couldn't bear to see it. I preferred being beaten to watching him do it to anyone else. But he put her in the hospital not 6 months after I left and I...I've never forgiven myself for leaving her with him.

All this comes welling up now, and it makes me feel like I am eroding from below. I'm anxious: I've begun biting my nails. I am dreaming dark dreams. I am writing compulsively, and masturbating too often. Where did my certainty go? It is unnerving me. I am trying not to stress it, trying not to worry or be anxious. But I find myself unaccountably tearful at odd moments. I cannot wait until I get this started, so I can get it over with. I've become a stranger to myself.