The proverbial shit, that is.
My cat is sick. One vet appointment and $250 later, we still have no idea what's wrong with him, as his blood and urine came back totally healthy and normal. So why isn't he eating, why isn't he drinking, and why hasn't he used his pan? I feel like he'll be dead in a week and I'll never know why.
I don't know if it was the worry over the cat, or just a combination of *everything* that has sucked lately, but I started crying at the doctor's office yesterday and didn't stop for several hours. For the first time, Dr. B was not remotely reassuring to me. We were supposed to just go over the surgery and answer any questions I had. Somehow we got to talking about how out of control my PCOS symptoms feel and basically what he said was, if I haven't cut every scrap of carbs out of my diet, I'm not trying hard enough and I have nothing to complain about. He then followed up that helpful tidbit by telling me that for some women, they can be on the best med combinations, exercise, and never touch carbs, and *maybe* their symptoms won't get any worse - they won't improve any, but at least they won't get worse. Cue noose tying...
I honestly don't know why everything Dr. B said was about the worst thing anyone could say to me, but it kept going. He's got diabetes and you don't see him crying - sure he misses carbs. And wouldn't I feel worse if I had, say, cancer? See, its not so bad when you compare it to something that is really bad. I wanted to scream at him that I'm not interested in playing the pain olympics. Instead I just cried. Cried out of frustration, cried out of pure exhaustion. Cried because I get the distinct feeling that God doesn't like me very much. That everything I am doing is wrong, and that's why I'm failing miserably. And you know what? There is a good chance the PCOS will kill me eventually. It increases my risks for developing all kinds of serious health problems. And it only gets worse as I get older. And there is no cure. So his cancer comparison is pretty fucking stupid, if you ask me.
I don't feel hopeful at all and anyone suggesting I should be, I just want to punch in the face. I'm not going to get pregnant, I'm never going to lose a shred of weight no matter how hard I try, and as Dr. B so kindly pointed out to me, every gram of carbs I eat is poisoning me. So now every meal is fraught with guilt. Like I don't have enough of that right now. I can't beat something that has complete control over my body, with a viscous cycle that feeds back into itself making things worse and worse. No matter what anyone says, we never "beat" PCOS, we just sometimes get very lucky and can work around it. I don't at all feel like I'm going to be one of those lucky people.
I cried harder yesterday than I have in a long time, probably since my sister lost the triplets. Deep body wracking sobs that made my hyperventilate. I don't feel any better today. I had hoped that with sleep, peace would come. I feel...empty, desolate, devoid of anything positive. I think we are going to blow through our savings waiting for M to find a job. I think my cat is going to die. I think I'm going to spend the next ten years getting fatter, hairier, and more barren if that's even possible.
I really need *something* good to happen. But I just can't bring myself to believe that is possible anymore.