(I feel inclined to inform potential readers that the post below is quite graphic. And brutally honest)
T minus one week until I submit my Masters dissertation. One week. Seven days.
I’m surprisingly calm at the mo. Although, considering I already had a near-breakdown over my academic future last week maybe I just don’t have any energy to work myself up.
When I handed in my undergrad dissertation, a lovely little 12, 000 word walk in the park compared to this beast, I immediately had to sit a two hour exam. Then I went home, ate some Chinese food and cried tears of relief that it was all over. I do believe I then slept for a few days but I don’t remember.
I’ve been confined to my desk since Thursday when I had to go to work. My boss is being just as annoyingly absent-minded as usual so I have literally no idea when I am next there. But I had to drag myself out of my room this morning for a doctor’s appointment. Even when the mind is willing, the body still needs regular check-ups.
My operation was about two months ago so I had to go in and get my strings checked. This is an entirely pointless process whereby they make sure that the Mirena device they implanted in my womb is still there. I had my first Mirena put in when I had my first lap back in 2008. I duly went for the six week check (my fist ever experience of any kind of internal exam). Not only could the doctor not feel it and I felt unbelievable discomfort and pain, I also got into my first (and only) crash in the car park as I tried to leave the doctor’s. Shockingly, it wasn’t even my fault. You are meant to get the strings checked once a year after that. I went the first two years. Both times they still couldn’t feel them or see them and trying to find them made me cry so much that the doctors just left it.
Earlier this year when I started experiencing quite a bit of pain ‘down there’ I thought maybe it had moved or something. Since there was absolutely no proof that it stayed where it was meant to, the doctor agreed. I had another exam and still nothing. Anyway, weeks and a lot of exams later, it turned out it was an abscess. Were it not for the fact that I hadn’t had a period since January 2008, I would’ve thought they had lied about the whole Mirena thing.
So, having got it replaced during my recent surgery, I had to go in for the string check today. It made me think of how much has changed since the last time. How much I’ve changed. While it’s still not my favourite thing in the world and massively uncomfortable, I’ve got so used to internal examinations that I didn’t even feel nervous. I don’t cry anymore (unless there are scary looking instruments involved) and there is zero shyness now. So many medical professionals have had to look there that I don’t have a boundary anymore. I whipped off my leggings and knickers before the doctor had even drawn the wispy little curtain the whole way around the bed. Why do they even have that curtain? They are going to see you anyway, why let you undress in private one minute then insert things in you the next?
The most remarkable thing was how quickly she found the strings. She had asked if my last one could be felt by hand and I informed her that it’s existence had never actually been verified. Uh-oh. She readied some unpleasant things just in case her ‘manual’ inspection didn’t work. Then, to both of our surprises, it was all over! She felt it straight away and everything was grand.
I went over a few other health questions with her. When you’ve got an appointment with a doctor, you need to really take advantage. Especially since it takes about 3 weeks to get an appointment over here. So she inspected a strange lump I’ve had for a few months. I would be the person who grows cysts on the surface *eyeroll* then we discussed ways to build up my quads. I dislocated my kneecap in a laundry-related incident about three years ago and was told I’d always have a weakness in that knee but lately it just seems to be getting worse.
Anyway, that was my exciting escape. Oh, I also tried to lodge a cheque in my bank only to be told that it would take six weeks because the amount is in Euros. The teller informed me of this and added that there’s a small charge for this service. He asked if I wanted to go ahead. There’s not much I can really do about it since it is a cheque for me from some Irish association. I will officially be living off crumbs from now till the end of the month when my measly wages come in.
At least sitting at my desk for the next week won’t cost too much.