So by now I guess my most secret, most shameful, and just ridiculous fear has come to light. You will probably be shocked to find out that I am not as super tough as I appear. (I DO appear tough, right?)
So the cat is out of the bag: I am a total wreck in the sight of needles and/or blood.
Actually even saying the words like "artery" or "mitral valve" make me lightheaded and nauseated. I have to lie down for a blood draw, and yes, I have fainted in the lab before.
I KNOW! It's laughable, but the cold hard truth is, it's true. I can't even watch a vampire movie without putting my head between my knees.
So, here I am, in the land of Di-ba-leet-eez, with everyone around me saying things like "But it's such a SHORT needle" and etc. You know, I just don't care, it freaks me out and I can't wish it or will it away. This is reason 407 that I hate this, you can't take a pill for type 1 diabetes.
So, Day one home from our trip, after a quick trip to the hand rehabilitation clinic (I had surgery on my hand last month for a dog bite) I schedule an immediate appointment with my Dr. to see if she has any ideas on getting me through this. Without fainting, vomiting, or sweating bullets all day long.. being a stay at home mom puts most of this whole needle business squarely in my lap.
I have a plan. I will calmly toss my hair, and firmly explain to my Dr. that I have this phobia, and I need her help with coming to grips with it. I am kind of figuring she will think I am a stupid, lame, chicken-weenie, so I am prepared to come off cool and .. adult. Damn it, I wish I was wearing some black heels instead of these dumb Tevas. Sigh.
My young, cute, pregnant Doctor comes in the room and looks quizzically from my chart to me, as my "reason for appointment" that I gave was "I need help". Her cute pregnant tummy brought up unwanted, uncool, uncalm feelings.
I saw her in that moment as a mom, full of all of our common hopes and dreams for our unborn babies.
I connected with the illusion of protection being pregnant creates, and we can't seem to reconcile that once the cord is cut, and they are lifted away, impossibly, from our bodies, to be wrapped in blankets- we can never protect them this way again.
All hair tossing forgotten, I squeak out "Help me," "My son Logan has Diabetes and I need to help him and I... am scared.. of needles!!!" This is followed by long rackings sobs, shaky shoulders, you name it: I lost it.
To her credit, she did not call me an idiot, or look at me like I should have gotten over this years ago, or sigh as if I was wasting her time. She aksed me questions about how it all started (childhood surgeries on my eyes) and referred me to a phobia counselor, a family counselor, and gave me a prescription for some low dose anti-anxiety pills.
I was so grateful. I kept wringing my hands and wishing I could say something great to her. All I could say was "Thank you, Naomi". When I stood up, she said, "Aw, here, let's have a hug", and gave me one. It felt so good to know that I was another mom to her, too.
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Tiny Tigers
2 months ago
2 comments:
A good doctor is worth every penny we pay into our insurance plan, isn't she? I just got home and started reading the blog, Jenny. It's really powerful to hear your inner monologue right from the beginning of your journey. I'm going to encourage Bill to read it. I think those early days before and after his son's diagnosis are still fresh whenever his son is muddling through something new around the diabetes. My heart is really with you all (as I know very well that this affects the whole family). Keep writing! And thank you for bravely sharing the truth, no matter how messy. I've always appreciated that about you.
-Cami
Wow Jen, I just have to start by saying I second what Cami already said, You're writing is powerful. And funny and insightful and emotionaly moving. So my thoughts are you should look at funneling this experiance along with your talent, that is obvious to all of us, into a book. Maybe it will make Oprah's book club and you'll be rich... and maybe it would only be seen by friends and family or possibly shared with others at diabetes support groups... at any rate what you're doing here is beautiful and should be saved somehow for at least Logan and Gray to read when they've grown up.
The other thing I wanted to say was I was happily stunned by the speed of changes taking place. When I read your 1st entry I was pulled into a dark, scary place (again props to the author) but when a couple of days later I read how Logan easily decided to have an extra HSP in exchange for being able to have an ice cream, it gave me a feeling of comfort inside. As I realized that the fear and anxiety of the unknown had already started to fade for Logan, I felt so hopeful for the whole family. Now your last entry shows that maybe the fear and anxiety for You and Jer is going to take longer to fade, and the hurdles ahead are not going to disappear, but the love and strength in the Litkey family is a formidable force and while our hearts go out to all of you and we'd love to be helpful if we can, I feel confident in my gut that you're already coming through this (cue in the last part of Rocky Racoon)triumfant and victorious! Thanks for including us.
Peace and love from Jimi Arry Madison Sonoma
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