Is This The Year My Cooter Needs An Overhaul?

Not only did the Vagina Whisperer shake my confidence I had in my ReproEndoGuy;
Not only did he leave me defeated by suggesting I was, in fact diabetic just by looking at my cooch;
Not only did he send me home last week with a scrip for some Diflucan and some antifungal vuvular cream;

This week?

Turns out on top of the yeasty-beasty, I've also got a case of bacterial vaginosis.

I think I need one of these... preach on, Sistah Wanda!

My Gynecologist: "The Vagina Whisperer"

There I sat, clammy and clothed in my uber-chic paper gown and drape, waiting entirely too long in the exam room; much as I waited entirely too long in the waiting room staring at pictures of babies, obviously happy additions to now happy families.

Each moment ticked by with me talking out loud to myself, about how the doctor is probably with a patient, a pregnant patient, obviously more important than fat, infertile me. It's not as if MY time has value. Too much free time, no reading material, no crochet to occupy me, and the emotional downward spiral was set.

As cheerful as my gyno is, he totally unravelled all confidence I have in my endo, who is a leading endo in the field of reproductive endo-stuff-ology.

The Vagina Whisperer thinks ReproEndoGuy is a "cowboy" who is overlooking simple stuff, even though in August he claimed I was out of the bracket for "pre-diabetes."

The Vagina Whisperer thinks I, in fact, AM pre-diabetic, if not actually DIABETIC, due to my near constant bouts with yeast.

And with that, I just couldn't hold it together a moment longer and sobbed.

And at this point, it's not even about the idea of not having a choice in the matter of my own fertility, or whether I will have a flesh and blood child of my own. It's about how very alone I am. How truly alone I am. Alone to struggle and flounder and fail, and rather than be "picked up" and comforted by my mate and made to feel as if "it's okay, we're together, we can get through anything," I'm made to feel as if I have failed once more.

This Won't Ever Exist For Me

Heaven/Where True Love Goes
(Yusuf)

The moment you walked inside my door
I knew that I need not look no more
I've seen many other souls before -- but,
Heaven must've programmed you
The moment you fell inside my dreams
I realised all I had not seen
I've seen many other souls before -- oh but,
Heaven must've programmed you
Oh, will you? Will you? Will you?

I go where True Love goes
I go where True Love goes
I go where True Love goes
I go where True Love goes

And if you walk alone and if you lose your way
Don't forget the One Who gave you this today
Follow True Love, follow True Love
Follow True Love, follow True Love
Oh, will you? Will you? Will you?

I go where True Love goes
I go where True Love goes
I go where True Love goes
I go where True Love goes

And if a storm should come
And if you face a wave
That may be the chance for you to be saved
And if you make it through the
trouble and the pain
That may be the time for you to know His name

The moment you walked inside my door
I knew that I need not look no more
I've seen many other souls before -- oh but,
Heaven must've programmed you
Themoment you fell inside my dreams

I realized all I had not seen
I've seen many other souls before -- oh but,
Heaven must've programmed you

The moment you said, "I will,"
I knew that this love was real.
And that my fate was sealed -- oh!
Heaven must've programmed you
The moment I looked into your eyes
I knew that they told no lies
There would be no goodbyes --
Ah, 'cause
Heaven must've programmed you
I go where True Love goes
I go where True Love goes...

On Noncompliance.

What I refer to as "remiss" in taking my Lexapro every day, has a technical term: "noncompliant."

Up until last night I was about 2-3 days non-compliant.

Last night he "treated me" to dinner. So we drove out of our way. I'm famished. Muttering to myself, "holy fuck am I hungry" over and over (because he INSISTED on packing my lunch--of course too light in the calories for me, leaving me totally empty and my sugar bottoming out)... until he venomously flipped out as if I am nothing but a complaining gadfly, and it was like this surge of heat forming a fist from his tongue to my solar plexus. I could hardly park the car fast enough before I started sobbing uncontrollably.

Lately, all I am able to say to myself over and over again like those silly chanty things folks say to themselves when they get so overwrought they talk to themselves all snotted up and upset... I don't want to be married anymore.

He flips out about when I make a statement about how hungry I am, or if I'm exhausted... which I am constantly thanks to the topamax... imagine if I let loose.... I mean really let loose about all the injustices I've experienced in this life. The biggest one, I'm afraid, is being married to a man who doesn't love me unconditionally.

I don't know if he's capable of it actually.

If he's not I don't know what to think of that, either.

But I do know enough to realize it won't be solved with another husband.

The idea of cutting and running, cutting my losses and enjoying what is left of my life while I'm still young... I'm past the point of running.

I await death.

Still Here. Somewhat.

Haven't had my menses since June, as I started taking the Topamax for my migraines and my fat-itude in July.

From July until August, total poundage lost was 6. Uncertain of any subsequent loss since.

Sunday, menses returned with a vengeance. Of course, because I had a gynecologic appointment on Monday. Rescheduled for the following Monday. Let's see if it abates by then.

Not sure what the lapse in menstruation is a sign of. Any kind of medicinal tinkering and it throws my feminine parts into a tailspin.

Haven't been compliant with my Lexapro, been trying to see if I can get by just on the Topamax as the neuro claims it's good for mood (but it's not, it just fatigues me even more and weirds my mood out). Got into a fight with the husband today as he mindlessly took our dining room closet door off the track... again. That thing (the closet door) is an INSTANT fight starter. The EFFing thing is installed poorly, he refuses to indulge me in a pair of "pocket doors" which would eliminate this problem, as well as be another INVESTMENT in our home, I've got perspiration trickling down to my asscrack, him getting snotty with me, me getting huffy and slapping him, him insulting me, and all this is before I can even take my first cup of tea and my blood pressure pill for the day.

Me without Lexapro? Not a good thing. I went into my den, and sobbed and silently welped out the words, "I don't want to be married..." to myself, rocking myself, sobbing, saying it over and over until it was more like echolalia than actual thoughts, and then the condo manager appeared (to help install some duct work for our bathroom ventilation fan), and I didn't even disguise the fact I had been crying.

I'm almost to the point where wanting to shout how alone and abandoned I feel (emotionally) off the rooftops isn't *RIGHT THERE* in the forefront of every moment. But it's there in the background.

I smile.
I laugh.
I distract myself with friends and my hobbies.
But those who know me... and there aren't that many who truly DO know me, who have taken the time and have the fortitude and have the unconditional love to know me... they know otherwise.
And we smile.
And we laugh.
And we distract each other with our hobbies.
Because we know all too well what each other is going through, and know all too well we cannot take away each other's bag of sorrow and regret and pain.
We can only hold each other's hand...
Whether in thought or in deed
And hope for the very best.
And smile...

Was supposed to go get some blood work today and then the gyno.

That can wait til next week. I need a mental health WEEK this week; but I'll settle for one day... next Monday.