2014-01-30

I had a 9.30am GP check up this morning. That might seem like no probs to most people, but at the moment I’m sleeping about 11 hours per day so that is a bit earlier than I’d prefer. We’d set this time as the husband had thought he’d come along and take me in the car, but as he came to the Consultant yesterday he didn’t come to the GP today. So, first time going to a medical appointment alone in a couple of months… but it was fine. And I got a cab so as not to have to get up too early for a bus.

At the GP I reported that I’d seen the new midwife and the Consultant and the Counsellor, and that I was feeling physically and mentally much better. I filled in the mental health questionnaire which demonstrated I was doing better, talked a bit about trying to get back to work and socialising, and got a prescription for more drugs.

I would have liked to have a big go at the GP for the time it has taken to get this far, and for her not getting me the Consultant appointment despite saying she would… but I decided to be meek and polite and achieve the goal of not needing to go back. I don’t need all of these appointments clogging up my life. Job done, she said I should come back ‘at least once during my pregnancy’. I didn’t make an appointment.

I also saw the Counsellor. We talked about all sorts of things looking at childhood reasons for the root of why I might react as I react and how this relates to infertility and the impact the nausea has had. We talked quite a lot about how I can appear quite composed even if I don’t feel like I’m coping, and how people might interpret me wrongly as a result. i.e. if I don’t break down in tears they think I’m probably fine. I’m giving them the verbal clues, but they don’t hear them because they are not accompanied by the visual clues. I was aware I’m like this but it was interesting to consider this alongside the nausea situation. I tell people stuff, I expect them to listen and hear what I am saying. They don’t. Because they are not seeing what they expect. Which is probably why I like counselling – it is all about someone listening to the words I actually say. That suits the way I do things.

Next time we’re going to talk about my frustration with the NHS. I look forward to that, I’d like to understand that and decide what to do with it and how to move past it.

Between the GP and Counsellor I had two hours to kill. I decided to get my hair cut, and there are loads of salons near the Counsellor and the first one I tried had a walk-in appointment. I usually have my hair cut every six weeks but I have no idea when it was last done… at least 18 weeks, it hasn’t been done while I was pregnant. It looked like a state and had become very bushy. And I’ve not been styling it. I’m not a massive fan of the hairdresser chitchat and it wasn’t my favourite thing to have an hour of that after months of virtual solitude. But I was ever so pleased to have better looking hair. In fact I’d go so far as to say it demonstrated to me that I value myself again, and it made me feel like a real person rather than an invalid. I might even start wearing makeup again now…

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