So much for War Dialing

 

A week ago Monday, I visited my Endo some 9 months after I intended to. In addition to my standard checkup (breast exam, blood levels, etc.) I had two problems I wanted addressed.

The first problem was lightheadedness after taking my spiro. While this is completely normal given the nature of the medication, the severity of it has noticeably increased in the past year. I was concerned that as I had lost weight since my last checkup, that I could be taking too much. Furthermore there has been a general lack of concentration and persistent fatigue. Her suggestion was simple: Stop drinking so much soda and caffeinated things. Instead, drink more water. Lots more. And when you think you've had enough, drink more. I had my doubts, but I respect her a great deal personally and professionally. She has not failed me thus far.

The second concern was far more difficult for me to admit. I asked her recommendations for therapists. I should have expected that this was a common question considering her clientèle, and that she had a sheet prepared. Not at that moment, of course, but I received it later from her nurse.

I went down to the lab in the bottom floor and had my blood drawn. I'm not afraid of needles, although I am apprehensive of them near particular regions such as eyes and hands. Unfortunately, my hands sport easy to find veins, very much unlike the crook of my arms. I returned to my car and began to drive home. Instead of going directly home, I detoured and drove to a small, privately owned bike shop I frequented. 10 minutes later I left with a shiny new water bottle. That evening I filled and emptied it four times.

The following two days I nary had a dizzy spell, and my mind seemed sharper than it had been in months. Dammit, I hate it when she's right.

When Saturday came around, I gave in to temptation and began downing soda once more. That evening and Sunday I felt horrible again. Surprise, surprise.

I hadn't forgotten about my other issue, however. The sheet of names and phone numbers sat on my desk where I nervously ignored them. Even when I packed for my trip I mercilessly stuffed them into my laptop bag, not daring to look at the numbers and names too closely. I was too concerned with laptops hitting concrete, flights and rental cars on Sunday to bother calling. Monday too, I lulled myself into other activities. I exercised on the hotel elliptical machine reaching my target rate of 166bpm with some effort. Apparently, my standing heart rate of 130 (as measured by my endo) had dropped some 30bpm in the following week. As I had already been a quarter through my routine and had only reached 133. Could caffeine alone have that much an effect? I asked myself.

Today had shaped up to be another day of procrastination, however, that soon would change. While eating dinner, I had a conversation with jenaflynn. She appealed to my sense of determination, in effect saying, No therapist, no SRS. Fine, enough waffling. I determined to go back to my hotel afterward and dial each and every number on that sheet of paper. I referred to this as "War Dialing".

Sitting down in my room, I looked through the list and prioritized the names according to gender (I suspect I'll be more comfortable with a female therapist), and location. The first was one of two that had an email address. I typed out a very formal letter giving my name, the fact I've been full time for three years, and my intention for SRS. Instead of sending it, I decided to call using the email as a script.

Ring...ring...ring...ring... "Hello?"

I blinked. I didn't expect someone to actually pick it up. I ran through the script, turning it into a conversation. Even during this short conversation, I actually felt comfortable with her. I put the thought aside as it was too little to go on given the short nature of the conversation. What surprised me more was the fact that not only would she have sessions on Saturday, but had one available the very next Saturday I was back home.

So much for War Dialing...