After the whole chaos of being on those psychotic birth controls that made me absolutely whacky, from stopping them and coming back down to a state of tranquility- I faced my worst fear: the grocery store. I never trek into huge supermarkets packed with people playing bumper cars with their shopping carts. Everyone seems to be lost in their own world, on a mission to find what’s on their list. I had a get together planned for that evening. I needed to see my friends I haven’t seen in a while. I forced myself to grab a cart (with gloves of course) and head inside the madhouse.
I managed to grab everything that was on my list, including things I really didn’t need. That’s just how I am – a total impulse buyer. I finally get to the checkout line. There was only one person standing in front of me. I thought, “Wow, what a breeze this was!” Until I heard, “Price check please!”
That was it. I knew I was in it for the long haul. I felt my anxiety rise within me, so I started to watch this little television they had up to entertain their angry and impatient customers. It didn’t work. My ADD kicked in and I started to panic wondering when I would get out of here.
Finally, it was my turn.
“Super saving’s card?”
“What’s your phone number?” The checkout woman asks.
“212-555-2473.” I blurt out.
“Hmm, maybe you’re under a different number?”
“Well, you’re not showing up as a super saver.”
“No- I never applied.”
“Do you want to?”
“Just check me out and I’ll pay whatever it is…” I said, frustrated that this lady assumed I had a super saver card. Just ring me up! I know she was trying to be courteous and nice. She was trying to save me money, but my anxiety said, “GO GO GO GO!”
She kept persisting though.
“But, you could save so much by signing up at the customer service station right there. Do you at least have a coupon?”
I looked at the customer service line that was a mile long. Not doing it.
“No. Please ring me up.”
Luckily I got out of there before I was sent home by security with a straight jacket on. I piled my groceries in and headed for the Italian deli, which serves specialty dishes and great marinated goodies. There was enough there to pack a good healthy artery or two.
“Here, try dis’!” Paulie says, as he comes out from the counter with a piece of salami of some sort (soprassata) and hands it to this customer who looked as though she was nothing to mess with. Her hair was short cropped- I want to say pretty close to a mullet. She had a Yankee’s jacket on and a pair of Levi’s and work boots.
“I can’t man.”
“Git ova’ here- try dis! It’s good!”
“Tell that to my doctor and my cholesterol level.”
“Ahhh---fuggedaboudit!!! We live way past our nineties and eat wha’ we want!” He says, as he throws his hands up and walks towards me with this slab of fat. I tried it. It was good. And yes, I bought it for my get together.
From delicious fried chicken fingers, to marinated mozzarella balls, I knew the gym should have been in the back of my mind- until I woke up with menstrual pain. I was just through with my cycle. After I abruptly stopped taking the birth control pills due to mood swings and anxiety attacks, I ended up bleeding…a lot. The two martinis the night before didn’t help either. It just made things worse. This morning it was alarming. I had to call the doctor. They said if I wasn’t ‘changing’ every hour, then it’s okay. I have an appointment with the doctor tomorrow about getting the DNC procedure. It’s scary, because I can’t leave my house without the fear of it getting really bad. My mother hemorrhaged a lot in the past- even in public places. I don’t want that happening to me.
So now I sit here writing to all of you about my dilemma. I’m two steps back when I thought I was getting better. Thank you to those who emailed me with advice regarding the PCOS information and the DNC procedure. I also want to thank Madelene and Rev. Kate for going up to the shrine in their churches for me and praying. Prayer is the best gift I can possibly receive. I know that this is routine stuff for women, but it scares me when it comes to these things. I realize that things could be so much worse, and know that I am fortunate health-wise, but it really means a lot to hear advice from people who have experienced this.
I don't know what's worse, having these womanly problems or eating that piece of soprassata.
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