Survival of the Fittest

I know what you're thinking, this is it, the one where she says she was obviously not meant to have offspring because her DNA is corrupted, faulty, scary, likely to cause various diseases, etc. But no, that is a topic for a whole different post entirely. No, I'm talking about adaptation.

It's funny how you think you're one way, set in your ways, wouldn't/couldn't change if you wanted to/had to. And then, WHAM, you realize what you could not do before, you've been doing for months like it's no big deal.

Point 1: Blood. Ewwwww. 10th grade biology class, my teacher wants me to prick my finger to determine my blood type... Excuse me? Are you insane? Needles were passed (as in out, not around) and bile rose in my throat. I did the only sensical thing to do, I bolted for the door before 30 15 and 16 year olds started stabbing themselves and spewing blood everywhere. Because that would have led to worst nightmare: Amanda vomits EVERYWHERE.

And it's not just the sight of blood, it's the smell. Ughhhh. What is that? And really, I don't have to see it or smell it, but just knowing that you want to stab me and steal my life juice is enough to make me weak in the knees, literally. I've been known to pass out over a finger prick, and if you need vials, holy moly, go ahead and get me a bed, some cookies and a juice box. We are going to be here for a while.

But that was then, now, blood work is like a weekly part of my life. Heck, sometimes it's even multiple times. I seriously don't even flinch. I don't watch (that's just crazy), and I appreciate the ladies who are quick, painless, and efficient (don't stab me twice), but after all the blood that has been swiped from me in the last year, I think it's safe to say, my heart rate doesn't even flicker.

Point 2: Exams. First off, let me say I abhor medical terminology and anatomically correct terms for the body. Who came up with these and why are they so creepy. So my hmmm hmmm, is either referred to as a "girl part" or a "special spot" in our household. (My med school husband LOVES this about me). Anyway, I don't think I'm the first girl to HATE annual exams. I mean really. You want to stick WHAT inside my WHERE? I think the only person who should get to see or feel the special spot is my husband.

Starting at 18, freshman year of college, I was ridiculously proactive and went for my first exam, and I've been back every year since then (props to me), but I dread it. It's awkward, it's freezing waiting in a paper gown, it's not comfortable, and I feel VIOLATED!

Now? Who cares! You can look all you want... everybody else in the whole office has seen all that I have to offer, up close, personal, in color, x-ray, and soon 3-d tv. I used to think that the forceps were the worst thing that would ever enter my girl part. If only. There have been hands (too numerous to count) wands, catheters, prickly brushes...

Point 3: Boys. Nope, notta, sorry, it just ain't happening. No boys (aka male doctors) will be anywhere near this lady. It used to really creep me out. I always went to a lady doctor. I made my first appointment to see a male OBGYN just over a year ago based on a glowing recommendation, but in my head, we were going to have a serious talk. First question: "why do you want to stare at, feel, ogle ladies' private places all day?" If the answer wasn't satisfactory (I have no idea what answer he could have provided that would have been), I was out of there. Alas, that was the plan before the miscarriage in which I discovered he was the nicest doctor ever.

But after all we've been through, boy doctors just aren't on my radar. And that's good because I think it would be nearly impossible to go through fertility treatments without an examination by a male doctor. The Reproductive Endocrinologist field is heavily filled with males, and although the clinic may be open 7 days a week with afternoon hours, that doesn't mean that there will be a lady there every time.

So yea, adaptation, survival of the fittest (that's me). What once gave me the heebie jeebies is now old hat. And honestly, my fears and issues were HUGE to me before, so it would certainly have taken something BIG to make me change my ways. But when a needle stands between you and your child (even your unborn/unconceived one), you just don't stop. You press on. So here's to adaptation. I wonder who I'll be on the other side of this bumpy, rocky, pot-hole ridden journey.