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Friday, October 20, 2006

CD3 Testing

This afternoon, hubby will pick me up a little early and we'll head to a lab for more bloodwork. Having seen what I went through on Tuesday of this week, hubby called the specialist's office and spoke to the receptionist. He said that she sounded appalled when he recounted the tale of incompetence, and she recommended another lab to us. So he called them.

Over the phone, he explained to them about the extreme phobia I have. He told them about my collapsing, rolling, hiding, deep veins. He told them what happens when I have to have bloodwork. He told them that I've had bad experiences. He recounted the arguement that was held within earshot the other day when they insisted that they were "able to do their job" but clearly were not. And they reassured him that they have seen this and more. And that they can handle it. And that they will take good care of it.

And yet, despite his belief, none of that reassures me, because... over the phone, they can say anything to bring you in. So I'm still afraid. No. Scratch that. I'm still petrified. I'm sitting at my desk, hours before I need to do this, but my heart is racing. I have to get through this. Somehow. To help, I'm already drinking water. I have my meds with me. I have that MP3 player. I have all the tools I need, except my sanity. And no matter how hard I try, I can't find that anywhere.

Something bigger
Yet even as I deal with my own issues, there is a huge online community that deals with the struggles, the trials, the issue of infertility. I am but one in a large circle of sisters (and brothers) as we go down this path, we all come to know each other. Beginning today, and at least once per week, I will try to direct my personal thoughts and prayers to one other person, or two, as the case may be, who travel beside me. Thus, this week I'm...

Sending love to:
Manuela and Mr. P over at Thin Pink Line. After 20 weeks, Manuela lost her Shoelet and my heart aches for her and for all those who have to endure such injustice. Nothing prepares you for that, and the outpouring of grief and tears for her and her family from the online infertility community is meant to bring them some comfort and solace. We grieve with you Manuela and Mr. P. May God keep your little Shoelet in the palm of his hand.

4 comments:

Neeroc said...

I awoke this morning thinking about you, trying to figure out some way for you to get reliable, hassle free draws. I'll let you know what I come up with *g*.
After today's post, the eternal optomist in me is thinking this will be a better draw. I certainly hope you are able to find a competent location, no, actually I hope that you don't have to do this much longer.

Lisa said...

I'm hoping, praying, sending positive vibes to you so that it goes well! It's friday - maybe you should just take lots of good drugs and then go home and sleep it off.

djl_ottawa said...

I am glad to say, that the lady we saw at the clinic was very good, I mean very good. The 2 lorazepams helped immensely I am sure. Gil amazing. She was calmer then I have ever seen her when it came to having a needled. Way to go hon.

Manuela said...

Thank you.