Last Monday, I moved my appointments with the hematologist up. The lab tests were done on Tuesday afternoon. My actual visit with the hematologist is tomorrow. Well, I assume it’s with him. It could be a physician assistant or a nurse practitioner.
I’m actually worried now that I’m not really anemic. Sure, my skin is looking a bit more gray than it usually does, I’ve been covered up under a blanket on 80°F+ days, I crave protein like a person on a planet made of lettuce, and I get winded by just picking up a book,1 but I could just be crazy. I mean, we all know that I’m cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs. What if I’m just going further down the rabbit hole that is my brain? That could be all it is.
But I know that this freaking out feeling that I have right now is the same sort of thing I always go through when I’m actually sick. I know that I have a tendency to worry about things that aren’t worth worrying about, but I’m also pretty damn certain that my anemia is something that is worth worrying about. And if I’m not in an anemic state, then I need to figure out why I’ve felt so shitty for so long.
So if I’m not anemic,2 I need to know that.
But I know that it is pretty unlikely that I’m not anemic right now. According to labs, my serum iron has headed downward at a steady rate. That rate was meant to hit the anemic stage in December, but I had two periods over the past several months that lasted at least 2 weeks and were extremely heavy. That would have sped it up slightly. Medically, the diagnosis is in the bag.
Maybe I’m just worried that it’ll be low and I’ll have to get an infusion and those scare the shit out of me. Ugh. I try not to freak out like this, but I’m like sitting here shivering3 trying to convince myself that I’m either not nuts or totally nuts when it comes to this very issue.
Sometimes I hate my brain and my body. It feels like they team up to make me miserable. And in the past 32 years, they have gotten quite good at accomplishing their goal.