The trip to Arkansas was wonderful. But less than 24 hours later, I'm right back where I started -- debilitated and immobile, curled up in bed with the door shut and locked.
I have a feeling I'm going to hurt again. I don't care. I can't afford to really care about anything. After the trip and his ignorant "blow-up" (Yes, I wrote "blow-up," because that's exactly what it was) and being told AGAIN how miserable he is, my self-confidence and sense of self-worth is shot -- as if it were healthy to begin with.
I just want to go to the doctor, go to the doctor, go to the doctor. PLEASE take me.
I've expressed the urgency over and over again, but for whatever reason --financial or otherwise -- I'm just not being taken seriously.
I'm making the appointment Tuesday, with or without support. I can't stand another day.
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So that's it. I've decided. I'm going to do whatever it is I have to do to get meds. And I'm going to be straight-forward about the homebirth.
And I'm going to see the doctor as soon as he'll see me, with or without someone going with me. This is ridiculous. I know better. I should've done this a long time ago instead of having waited for someone else to decide it was the "right time" or that our circumstances were optimal for it.
I'm insulted it hasn't been insisted upon that I go NOW. My health is apparently not as important as whatever else it is that has prevented me from going.
I'm not waiting anymore.
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