Okay, is anybody else sick of this "fear" theme yet? Because I am. It's time for me to move on. Enough is enough.
I allowed myself one final concession to the fear today. I called my new OB to see if they could see me earlier than Monday. But I was very rational. And level-headed. No fake emergencies. You would have been very proud.
The secretary kindly explained that patients rarely cancelled appointments, and Monday was absolutely the earliest time they could get me in.
But then she asked, "Are you having any problems?"
There it was. My "in". The open door leading directly to the coveted ultrasound. (In my head I pictured the ultrasound machine at the end of a dark tunnel with a ray of light shining down upon it, while in the background a churchy sounding chorus sings "aaaaahhhhh" in that way that happens in movies when something elusive is finally illuminated.) It would have been so easy to say, "Why, yes, actually I am", and fabricate some bogus concern. But I couldn't do it. I just couldn't bring myself to falsely claim some frightening symptom or experience that actually could be happening to me and that tragically does happen to many women. It just felt wrong.
So I told her the truth. "Well, I'm feeling kind of panicky."
She didn't laugh, which was really quite kind. She even said I could check back in with her to see if anything happens to open up. She is a good person, this secretary. I must remember to smile at her when I go to my appointment. We like her.
So, anyway. That was it. My last acquiescence to the fear. From now on I will be positive. Hopeful. Rosy. Upbeat, even.
Stop laughing, people, I'm trying here.
And stop taking bets on how long this will last.
Can I put fifty bucks on forty-eight hours?