Okay, there is no bedside in this post. I did see a doctor, though.
I have explored anxiety here quite extensively. Anxiety must have viewed my explorations as a come on and got turned on because anxiety will not leave me alone. Seriously, it has it’s tentacles all over me.
I was fortunate enough to perform in Listen To Your Mother last year. After my first performance, my anxiety manifested itself in my larynx and I had a coughing fit. On stage. Awesome. What’s even better? I’m sitting at center stage, right behind the podium, so the video of every single performance included me in the background. I felt sorry for all my cast mates. Also, I fidget. A lot.
Usually, when I have anxiety, the worst physical symptom I get is a flushed face and flop sweat.
Recently, I’ve stressed out enough to progress to the burning, itching larynx stage of anxiety. I made a fairly stupid error at work last week that involved copying old test data over production data. Nothing important, just general ledger stuff. Fun times.
I freaked the fuck out, you guys.
I coughed and gagged until my face turned purple. Then, just this morning, after finding out I had to make an adjustment to a program I wrote, I nearly had the same reaction. This is normal work stuff, the world wasn’t coming to an end or anything. I had to take my last xanax.
I had to admit that my anxiety is out of control when every tiny issue at work makes me want to give up on life and live in a psych ward. At the very least, I needed a medication refill.
I called for an appointment and they got me in today. Thank the stars. Even if I don’t have to use my medicine, I have to have it with me. Just having it with me is usually enough to get through the squalls.
Leaving work early is always nice. I needed a shorter day today.
I got to the doctor’s office 2 minutes before my appointment and talked to the woman at the front desk. She and her coworker were cracking me up. I had to fill out new paperwork because it’s still the 19th century and we have to write the same shit over and over at the beginning of each year when we go to the doctor. Anyway, the two women working at the front desk would look at me and roll their eyes whenever the other one looked away. I have to think they had some long days at the office working there together. You could have scooped up the loathing with a spoon.
I enjoyed listening to them take passive-aggressive shots at each other, but my doctor’s office usually runs on time, so I was back in a examination room within a few minutes of arriving.
I sat Indian style on the exam table and played boggle on my phone while I waited. My doctor walked and and threw his hands up.
Doc: Michelle! You’re right at the edge of that table. You’re going to fall.
Me: I’m not going to fall. I’m fine.
Doc: You’re too close to the edge.
Me: Well, if I do fall, then I’m at least falling in the right place. I mean, I doctor is literally right here.
Doc: Good point.
Doc: You’re going to fall and then end up owning this whole practice.
Me: I’ll be a good boss.
Doc: Yeah, I’ll be working for Michelle’s medical emporium and I’ll have to tell people what a great boss you are and that you make me work a lot of hours.
Me: I’m already thinking we need to cancel your next vacation.
I talked to my doctor and asked if we should check my thyroid levels since that fucked so hard with me last summer. We also discussed the stress of Randy being ill and the fact that menopause is a bag of dicks. We talked about how Randy has attempted to ban me from WebMD and that I’ve been having mortality anxiety.
Me: I guess it’s dumb to be so worried about dying. We’re all dying.
Doc: This is true.
Me: I just don’t want to die at a rapid pace. I’m hoping for a leisurely stroll. A slow, leisurely death stroll. My inner voice, the one that is usually an asshole but sometimes helpful, piped up and told me to stop talking.
Doc: I’m going to tell you a story.
I settled in, because damn, who doesn’t love a good story? And you know doctors have to have great stories.
Doc: I had a patient a while ago. Lovely woman in her eighties. She was terrified of dying and she was convinced that she was. She came in to see me every single week. Or if she didn’t see me, she was going to the hospital by ambulance because she was sure was having a heart attack.
Me: Wow. Now that is some mortality anxiety.
Doc: Then one week she came in and she said she was feeling pretty good. A week later, she was having lunch at a restaurant with her family and boom. She died. Right there at the table.
Me: I have no idea what the point is.
Doc: Well, if you’re worried you’re going to die, don’t stop telling me that because then you’ll just end up dead in a restaurant.
Me:…
Me:…
Me: Is this the story you tell to all your patients with mortality anxiety? Because I gotta tell you dude, you could probably do better.
Doc: Yeah, that one’s not so great, is it?
Doc: Now, stay off WebMd. Here’s your prescription.
I got my blood drawn and I’ll find out soon if my medicine needs to be adjusted. I got my security blanket back in my purse and all is right with the world.
I don’t know that my doctor is the best doctor in the world, but I do always enjoy seeing him. He’s sarcastic, approachable, and he gives me drugs that keep me from curling up in a ball and sobbing. What’s not to love?
I’m also thinking that I should give therapy another shot. The last go around wasn’t very helpful. The discount therapist I saw believed in actual demons. I went back to her for 2 months longer than I should have just to see if I could get her to talk about demons again. She never did.
Maybe this time, I should talk to a therapist and see if they have suggestions for bringing my anxiety back down to manageable levels rather than using the therapist as as source of entertainment.
Wish me luck.
You know, if I had just shifted to the right a little bit, I might have been the proud new owner of a medical practice. I never think things through.
Only you can make something this scary so fucking funny. Tears of a Clown. But not a stupid looking clown like Ronald McDonald, more the concept of clowning than a real clown, ok?
Anywho, working full time, with anxiety and looming menopause sounds horrific. I think i have a little PTSD just thinking about it.
When I went to freelancing, and then proceeded to turn down jobs till I had whittled my work load to mere scraps, my hubs looked at me one day and said, ‘Are you retired??’
You know, for someone who didn’t have to deliver either one of his kids, suffer night sweats, hot flashes, weight gain and rollicking mood swings, he’s pretty fucking cocky to ask me that. But the pressure is building to start bringing in the dollars again. When I first wake up, there is this awful sense of pending doom, this crazy toxic mass working up from my stomach to my throat. It’s green and mean. OMG, I just conjured it.
I am learning to TAMP THAT SHIT DOWN, or my day is shot. Some days, though, it oozes out between my fingers and, then it’s time to plant myself on the couch and glare out the window for six hours.
So in essence, I am saying: I hear ya, sister. I feel your pain. I cannot offer any good advice, and most people, including me, don’t want any damned advice on this type of problem, they just want you to listen for a goddamn minute. I’m listening. Thanks for sharing.
And thanks for being so charming and hilarious about it all.
Actually, knowing I am not alone helps a LOT. It’s horrible to feel this way and to feel misunderstood. So thank you for that.
Here’s to getting through our days and laughing as much as we can. XOXO
My anxiety presents as ‘not being able to swallow’. I don’t know how I am swallowing on a daily basis, or if I even swallow at all. I just know that swallowing all of a sudden becomes urgent and important and I can’t do it. I wish my doctor told me stories like yours. Mine is all ‘medically’. Although he did once say after a pap ‘My condolences on your situation,’ and then left the room without telling me what the fuck that was about. That was a good one.
What the fucking fuck?? That would have freaked me out.
One of Randy’s doctors did that when he was getting the abscess in his abdomen scanned. The doctor looked at the screen…said..Well, THAT is interesting..and then walked out. Never came back to tell him what he meant.
I never think things through, either… missed that wrongful death settlement by this much:
*holds thumb and forefinger 1/4 inch apart*
OK, the demon non-obsessed (turned out) therapist might have been on the right track… do you think you died in a previous life from choking? Or maybe you had your head cut off… the symptoms seem right.
Gonna need the Voodoo doll.
Haahhha. She’s staying in her Tupperware. Like I promised.
Your doctor sounds wonderful. Sarcasm out of my drug pusher always makes me feel better, especially the ones who have an actual prescription pad….
And… if I can make you feel a little less alone on the anxiety tip over scale. My non-sarcastic Doc, but cute young thing, was able to get me in Monday for about the same thing.
But I don’t want a leisurely death stroll.
Thank you, very much.
I liked your doc’s ‘death worry’ story just fine. That’s how I wanna go. Bump. Into the good night. I also liked how he said to keep telling him you’re worried to stay alive longer.
What a guy 🙂
I’m feelin’ for ya, Sis. It must be in the climate change thing… it might be ‘mortal emotional change’ piggybacking in for free.
Really great post. Wish we could skip down your driveway, holding hands while we laugh at anxiety and insomnia in the face.
You could push me in front of a car and I’d be grateful. I would push you back, out of the path of my death wish and save your life and you’d be grateful.
Win. Win.
I swear…I look forward to your comments like Christmas. XOXOXO
And I seek your approval like a five year-old with a finger-painting for the fridge 🙂
Win.
Win.
(How much for this week’s therapy…I think Randy forgot to bill me again)
XOXOXO
Hahaha…pretty sure we are even. It’s mutual.
I gotta say, reading your blog makes me feel like I’m part of a secret club. Not a good club, but a club nonetheless. My anxiety manifests in migraines. And weird dreams.
Both have been kicking up lately because the job I once loved became a suckfest about 6 months ago. I was hoping for a turnaround, but it doesn’t seem forthcoming. I need to look for a new job but I hate interviewing. I get nervous and babble. I’m really a good programmer. Really. But you wouldn’t know it from my interviews. Sigh.
No good options – stick with the job I know, but am learning to hate; or suffer the pains of rejection and interviewing only to get a job that may suck just as badly.
We should merge. I am AWESOME at interviews. I kick ass. I can totally step outside myself and give great interview. But I’m not a great programmer. Sounds like if you combined us, we would be perfect.
I would LOVE to have you do the interviews for me. Maybe we could do a Freaky Friday swap, just for the day.
You are on!
My life was much improved once I realized that WebMD is NOT MY FRIEND! I can so relate to every word of this. Absolutely.
Yeah, I really do avoid it these days. It’s not helpful.
Having spent WAY too much of my still-short life in doctor’s offices, I loved this. My favorite was the line about the 19th century. I’d say it’s the 19th century, but with fax machines. My favorite was when I had this chronic-fatigue-like mystery thing years ago, and every time I would go in part of the paperwork would be this depression scale. I was fine until I started answering the questions on the depression scale, and then by the end of it I wanted to slit my wrists right there in the office. THIS IS NOT HELPING ME. So I finally told them I wasn’t going to do the form any more. Problem solved! I’m a genius.
I stopped getting on the scale every time. Fuck that. I know how much I weigh…I don’t need a reminder.
I bet if you owned that practice you would have 10,000 new ideas about how you are dying. But I love that you are at the edge of the table. And I too find that having meds on hand is an excellent safety net. Although I also have meds in blood stream.
You make a good point..
I think the worst part of mentalpause is the crazy anxiety. The worst part of the anxiety is all the moments spent blasting myself for being anxious over all sorts of everyday, molehill stuff. I’m actually upset with myself for “letting” mundane shit get to me. If I’m not on a roller coaster of rampant, scatter-brained, dire thoughts, then I’m acknowledging that the knot in my stomach (which starts ever-so-slowly), the neck tension, and the consuming unease is anxiety, which leads to a “WTF!?” internal screech and the inevitable “Get it together! What is WRONG with you? Stop this shit NOW!” crap. If I can keep it together, I remind myself quietly to just breathe. All in all, it’s exhausting AND annoying and I only hope that all this tension along with an hour or so of tossing and turning like a maniac every night is burning up a lot of calories. (But I know the stress hormones won’t allow that.) I’m happy that you’ve scored your xanax. Suggest to your doc that he write a book…could be so bad, it’s funny. What was laugh out loud funny is your line: menopause is a bag of dicks. Thank you for that! Wishing you a peaceful day.
Thank you. And yes..I’ve been down that path so many times. Just today actually..
Yeah, anxiety. Mine manifests in heart palpitations. Scares the hell out of me. Racing thoughts. And sometimes full-blown anxiety pass out attack. Got that from a bee sting between the toes. I especially have medical procedure anxiety. I don’t even like to think about attacks because then I get anxious. I will say my doctor gave me Effexor because it helps with menopause symptoms too. Stopped my heart palpitations. Although, why is it now, when the days grow longer which should help, somehow harder? Anxiety sucks donkey dicks!
Effexor fucked me up so bad. It didn’t help me at all and I had seratonin withdrawal when I went off it…that was horrible.
You know what the downside of a funny, smart, attentive, sarcastic doctor is? You want to go back and see that doctor as often as possible. The upside of that is that’ll give you plenty of chances to fall off the table and become owner of your own medical emporium.
And thank you for reminding me of the time I told my doctor local anesthetic could knock me unconscious and he told me he was putting it in my record that I’m a cheap date.
Hahaha…yeah..you might want to rethink that method, dude.
Self diagnosing from the web is a dangerous habit, For me it starts off fun, but that changes once I start diagnosing myself with having everything in the book.
You’re a natural story teller. Thank you for the laughs
Thank you so much!!
You know what you need to do when that anxiety kicks up? You just need to relax.
I’m most definitely joking, so hang in there
HAHHHA…OH yes..and there are so many people who say that and MEAN it.
Tried paxil? It’s worked for me for 40+ years. Good times…
I had a terrible reaction to anti-depressants so I am very hesitant to go down that path again..
I can barely read the part about mortality anxiety, I have so much mortality anxiety.
If you go back into therapy find someone with a solid Cognitive-Behavioral approach. The skills they have to offer will help beyond measure. And generally they won’t start talking about demons.
Hahaha..which is a little disappointing because that was entertaining.
I was pretty much unconscious to my mortality anxiety until about six months ago…and when I finally *saw* it, along with the thought that was causing it, it kind of dissipated. I mean, it’s not that I want to die any time soon, but I no longer fear it.
Oh, and FOR SURE any anxiety is totally exacerbated by freaking menopause hormone shifts.
menopause is such a dick..
Reading all your posts has made me feel so much better today. I was referred to a lung specialist not too long ago. He ordered all kinds of tests to be done. So I asked him, how serious do you think this problem is. He comes back with “let’s not get ahead of ourselves, when the results are in, then we’ll talk about it”. Now you know that just made me run to the computer and bring up WebMD. Of course all the worst case scenarios were on there. Talk about anxiety to the max. At least tell me what you think it could be. Give me a hint. As an update, all the tests were OK, but they still don’t know what is wrong. I don’t feel like there is anything wrong, but I’m sure there are more mysterious tests to come. Getting older (age 72) is not for the faint of heart.
Getting old is NOT for the faint of heart..it’s goddamn stressful!
I fell off of my new bed last night, and it’s almost as tall as an exam table… The cat freaked the fuck out, then came over and sniffed at me. She could have been making sure I was OK, but I think she was really checking me out to see if I was injured enough to be an easy kill…
I know what you mean about just having some medicine; I have three Vicodin in a bottle that have been keeping my teeth from hurting for almost a year.
YES! Just having it is nearly as good as taking it. Although, sometimes I do have to cross over.
I’m glad your cat didn’t eat you.
I love your doctor. But not your anxiety. Or my own. But your doctor: Aces!
Yeah, I like this guy. So much better than the last two. The last two refused to treat my insomnia or anxiety. So fuck those doctors. And they weren’t funny.
“I’ll be a good boss” made me laugh out loud.
I had a lot of other things to say but I have a very short attention span and you had too many comments above mine. I forgot what i was going to type. I might be back later.
Haha, it made him laugh, too.
It takes a special kind of person to turn a doctor’s visit for xanax into a comedy skit – thank you for that.
I must say that since I went onto some progesterone only tablets in the morning (in addition to progesterone and estrogen tablets at night), my anxiety has been heaps better – it takes about 4-5 days to kick and for god’s sake, don’t miss a day, but, I do feel so much better. Now, to clear up all the infections and I’ll be sweet !!!!
TFIF is all I can say (well for those of us further along on the timeline !!! LOL)
xox
Friday is nearly here. 🙂
He wants me to talk to my OB/GYN about HRT.
Medical practices are too much work, you were smart to not lean to the right!
My husband uses the theory if you think the worst it will never happen, like your doctor’s patient. Once she stopped thinking she would die she did. I do not subscribe to this but it works for him.
Well..according to my doctor, your husband is on target.
I’m right there with you on the coughing anxiety, ugh! Xanax is a godsend that I rarely ever have to take or refill anymore, but completely understand the security blanket of knowing I have it there if I need it, and so thankful to have found that darn little pill that works so well. I so enjoy your blog, thank you for your musings!
Thank you so much! And yes..just having it is most of the battle..but there are times it is necessary. I usually take it when I feel tears coming on.
I used to suffer from terrible anxiety. Then, I studied Biofeedback and that changed everything. It wasn’t an overnight fix but over time, my anxiety attacks were gone! Now, whenever I experience anxiety, I don’t have body reactions anymore. It’s hard to explain but I taught myself not to have my entire body react to them. Anyway, worth looking into. I loved that story your doc told…hysterical and very telling.
Thank you for this. I am completely ignorant of biofeedback but am willing to try it!
I wish I had half of your writing ability and sarcasm. This really isn’t fair though. I’m dealing with the anxiety and menopause and I don’t have any drugs…or at least not the right kind. I’m going to the damn Dr. asap!
Come see my doc, he’ll hook you up.
And might I respectfully suggest that you don’t compare…because sister, you’re voice is incredible and it touches and helps so many people. XOXOXOXOX
Look on the bright side. Those doctors offices are filled with nasty diseases which would decrease your life span. Really – you dodged a bullet.
Wait….you mean there aren’t actual demons? This was one of your best and funniest posts yet – I love that you can so adorably poke fun at one of life’s most frustrating, frightening and annoying issues. I applaud you for that. Anxiety is not for sissies, and aging is definitely not for the faint-hearted.
It so much is not for sissies.
You know, I have heard many times how nice it is for someone to be able to joke about anxiety and after reading your post, I finally realized that I wanted to write a post about it..so thank you for the inspiration.