I saw the endocrinologist last week, and he made the clinical diagnosis of PCOS. He also thinks I might be hypoglycemic and/or insulin resistant, so he made the decision to put me on Glucophage. I’m supposed to follow-up in May.

I liked him. I think English was his second or third language because he asked me what happens when I “escape breakfast or other meals” and I was sent off into one of my reveries. Of course, he meant “skip” but he wasn’t mispronouncing it, he was clearly saying “escape.”

I’m basically as healthy as a horse other than these weird symptoms that won’t go away – my test results are always in normal ranges, and “people like me (read: fat)” don’t usually have the blood pressure, pulse, and respiration rates that I do. But the endo clearly thinks my hormones are CRAZY or he wouldn’t have put me on meds (he said as much).

In the mean time, I am trying not to escape meals.

Good news: No PCOS! No hypothyroidism!

Bad news: No PCOS! No hypothyroidism! High cholesterol!

I’m relieved that my ovaries aren’t trying to kill me and that my uterus is normal. I’m glad that my thyroid isn’t malfunctioning. But…

My doctor thinks my physical symptoms may be a result of my depression. He also thinks I should consider therapy again. Fine, therapy is helpful because it’s all about you. But he was treading very close to the “it’s all in your head” thing and I did push back a little bit on that, so he says if my physical symptoms continue or worsen while my depression improves, more blood work to rule out lupus (I almost yelled “It’s NEVER lupus!”) or something else that I didn’t hear because I was thinking about House.

I’m not diagnosis shopping, but I’m frustrated about the complete dismissal of a thyroid problem considering I have every symptom including elevated cholesterol (which, per the doc, I’m supposed control through diet, so I’m giving up my indulgence in breve lattes and 1/2 & 1/2 in my coffee [frowny face]). If it’s not in my head, or my thyroid, and it’s not behavioral (which I’m ruling out because, been there, done that), THEN WHAT THE FUDGE IS IT? Blah.

If this mess continues, I might ask for a referral to a specialist. Is that a good idea? At this point, I usually just give up because, as Chris Rock put it, “Doctors don’t cure shit” and I feel like I’m wasting everyone’s time and that I’m failing as a human being for not just fixing myself with my above-average intelligence.

I cannot bring myself to finish anything at work. I fiddle and fart around with all the papers on my desk, review lists, and calendars, but when it comes to the few things I absolutely must do, I have zero motivation.

At home, I just sit or have a lie down. It’s a good thing that Tom has caught the Xmas Spirit this year, because while I’m feeling it, I’m not really doing anything with it and he’s just bustling with holiday energy. I should have taught him to knit!

I just started taking a mood stabilizer about a week ago, but I’m not really noticing any effect yet. It would be nice to not be depressed and anxious all the time, so I’m hoping it starts to work.

I had a pelvic ultrasound earlier this week, which I tweeted about, but I must reiterate I HAD TO WAIT FOR 1.5 HOURS WITH A FULL BLADDER. I think it did some damage, because I have had the sensation of having to pee ever since. Hopefully, it goes away. The actual ultrasound wasn’t so bad, but the techs were nosy but also very clinical and inhuman. Programmed to ask personal questions in the most unfeeling manner, they were annoyed with my when they were unable to locate my left ovary. Of course, I was hiding it from them just to be difficult. So in order to punish my insolence, I had to have an internal ultrasound as well. I have heard horror stories about internal ultrasounds, about how the ultrasound wand is a giant dildo sent from outerspace to impregnate you with it’s alien robot sonar-babies, but I was neither shocked nor impressed by it. It wasn’t nearly as uncomfortable as a speculum, but the tech did bump my cervix a couple of times and that HURT LIKE BEING STABBED IN THE GUT WITH A RUSTY BAYONET.

Of course, they never told me what they were seeing and seemed to think I was wasting their precious sonar tech time by being there, so I take that as a sign that I do not have anything terrible growing in my lower abdomen.

Now I just have to worry about what mutations have been caused by having the rapidly dividing cells of my reproductive organs exposed to high-frequency sound. MERRY FLIPPIN’ XMAS!

So I’ve been on this no sugar, no flour kick for about 2 months. I’ve lost 14 pounds. Go me!

But I’ve been feeling super-deprived lately. Almost enough to binge on pizza rolls.

Part of my deal with myself was that if I felt like I was being deprived I could treat myself, but it had to be worth it. So when I saw this, I knew that I would be having it.

I was making the frosting and I used 1/2 the sugar and organic peanut butter with no preservatives or emulsifiers. And the frosting would not turn into frosting. It was sweet, peanut buttery, but the oils kept separating. Gross. I almost threw it away. But I decided to go to allrecipes.com and read the comments and when I read this comment:

1 cup creamy NON-GENERIC peanut butter (the peanut butter taste will only be as good as the type of peanut butter you use– I used Jiff and it was awesome)… For those of you who hated this recipe and said it was too greasy and not spreadable, you probably either used crappy peanut butter…

And I realized that this person had used a peanut butter that contained emulsifiers (and other things that lead me to believe that this person doesn’t understand what “crappy peanut butter” is.) and that I needed an emulsifying agent that would do scientific things to make the frosting blend properly. Enter: Ice Water! Four tablespoons to be exact. Everything blended together perfectly. YAY!

I put it in the fridge and it spreads like a dream. I had a small dark chocolate brownie with a little bit of frosting on it and it was delicious and totally worth sweating like a pig in my 90 degree kitchen.

Today, I was doing laundry and I hit the back of my right hand on the corner of our bar cabinet. I have a huge knot on the back of my hand, and it hurts to anything with it. And I really wanted to knit today. Boo.

So all that quiet reflection and whatnot that I so desired after my vacation has been no where to be found.

It’s my own fault, I got sort of depressed about everything when I got home and I’ve just sat on my ass staring at the wall since I got back.

But I’m trying, but I’m always trying and it gets old. I’m so bored with myself that the thought of interacting with other people makes me want to jump in front of a bus.

And this weekend we’re heading to Sedona/Jerome/Clarkdale for Tom’s birthday, so hopefully I will snap out of it and actually have some fun…