Well, it's now technically 12:02 a.m. TUESDAY. Couldn't wait for my Monday to be over!
Went to NYC to see the ReproEndoGuy. Besides being told that I'd be taking my life in my hands if I were to get pregnant (assuming I could even GET pregnant at this weight and assortment of malaises), I was informed that my fatty liver syndrome is not improving, and I am in the danger zone (yet not officially diagnosed with) for N.A.S.H. Switched me off my Quinaretic, to be put on Quinapril with a Spironolactone chaser. I go back in May and we're going to be discussing bariatric surgery, possibly the lap band to hopefully prevent the FLS and NASH as well as go into full-on diabetes ...
And again...
There I sat, in the exam room... in NYC... ALONE. No husband there for moral support. I just love the anonyminity that NYC affords. I walked about 20 yards from the doctor's office and broke down in convulsive sobs, hiding myself behind a pillar at the Presbyterian church whilst on the cell phone w/the husband... who was totally marginalizing my pain... the pain of being told from a professional I won't have children of my own flesh & blood... as well as all the health risk/life endangered themed talk.
Almost too much to choke back, isn't it?
