It's always a fun day when a phlebotomist receives the opportunity to stab your fat arm multiple times in search of blood. That's not a mean statement against the phlebotomist-she was cool. My arm just sucked today.
I've been dealing with depression for many years of my life. And never bothered to see a doctor about it. Until today, when I spilled the beans to my OBGYN. Weird person to spill to, right? Not so much, I guess. She sent me to the lab to have my blood drawn and thyroid levels tested. Annnnnd she made a psychiatric appointment for me. Given the odd array of symptoms I have been experiencing over the past couple of years(inability to lose weight, severe fatigue, loss of interest in beloved activities/people, a puffy face, a constant lump in my throat, and here lately, trouble breathing) I really expect to hear that my thyroid has gone wacko, but the doc really felt pretty certain that all my symptoms are due to the depression manifesting itself in crazy ways. I guess we'll see. The main thing is, I am finally on the road to finding a resolution.
I have a strong aversion to hospitals, and almost chickened out of my appointment, but I just can't take not knowing what's wrong with me anymore. The insomnia alone has become unbearable.
Thankfully I had an old pair of Fluevogs on my feet to keep me company and help divert my anxiety.
I feel as though I might actually sleep well tonight, for the first time in many months.
That's a feeling that's worth more than the feeling that wearing any gorgeous pair of Fluevogs can provide.
Well, almost. I mean, let's be real here.
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