No, I’m Not Pregnant

The irony of being queer and chronically ill is that I’ve been asked by doctors if I could possibly be pregnant… a lot.

Now this is part of their job, and I know they have to do it, but the medical field often seems very unaware of any sexuality other than straight. I don’t believe you should make any assumptions about other people – especially when it comes to gender and sexuality. I’ve been asked straight up, “how do you know you’re not pregnant?” Almost like they’re testing me.

Most of the time doctors or nurses ask if you could possibly be pregnant, because they are going to administer a test or medication that could be harmful to a fetus. It makes sense why they ask and make you take a pregnancy test, but it gets a little redundant. I did infusions every day for a week at an infusion center, and every morning I had to pee in a cup for a pregnancy test. If you saw me yesterday afternoon and saw how sick I was, how in the world could you possibly believe I got pregnant in the short time I was gone?

If I can barely walk down the stairs some days, how in the world do you think I’m having sex? Also I rarely leave my house, so where am I supposed to find someone who wants to have sex with me? At this point it’s pretty comical, but still annoying. I don’t mind peeing in the cup, but paying at times $150 for a pregnancy test that it is literally impossible for to be positive is ridiculous.

One visit to the ER, I had already been there for hours and received medication, and now it was time for me to be discharged. They wouldn’t let me leave until I had a pregnancy test, although if I was pregnant any damage done to the fetus was irreversible at this point. This situation was particularly frustrating because I went to the ER for excruciating period cramps. They were taking a long time to do the test, and when the doctor came in I said,” I think it’s pretty obvious I’m not pregnant. I’m on my period.” And yes I know there are abnormalities where sometimes you are pregnant, but will still get one last period, or something could be wrong and you could be bleeding, but that obviously wasn’t the case. Apparently this made the doctor mad (even though I said it in a joking manner and wasn’t trying to be rude, but whatever) and she said, “you could be having a miscarriage,” and gave me the evil eye. I had an ultra sound of my ovaries and uterus while I was there, so I think it would have been clear if I was pregnant.

For someone who’s never been pregnant I’ve taken a lot of pregnancy tests. But hey, just mark it down as a funny story, I guess.

Lots of Love,

(and an empty womb)

Alyssa

 

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Isolated

Chronic illness is isolating.

I have spent the majority of the past five years alone, in a dark room. I no longer attend high school, and I don’t talk to any of my old friends. I’m not saying these things for pity, or sympathy; they are just simple facts.

Chronic pain keeps me from doing or enjoying pretty much everything I used to. I got sick during the transitional time from elementary school to middle school, so making new friends became really hard. Now that I’ve started online school, I don’t see anyone from my old high school or talk to them. The only “new places” I’ve been going are doctors offices – so I don’t think I’m gonna find any new friends there, but hey ya never know.

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After a few months/years friends and family get tired of asking me how I am feeling. They assume I’m gonna better, and forget I’m sick. But I don’t forget; I don’t have that luxury. They get tired of hearing me say “I’m in pain” or feel fatigued. They no longer want to know about my doctors visits or hospital stays. I don’t blame them, the never ending cycle of chronic illness is tiring and generally negative. Friends were the first thing I lost. A few close ones stuck around a couple of years, but now they’re gone too. My immediate family is still here for me, but my extended family never asks how I am anymore. I don’t need/want them to make a big deal about it – but it would be nice if they’d ask about me every once in a while.

Being alone almost all the time makes going out in public hard. I’m sensitive to noise, and the world is one big ball of sound. I never had social anxiety before, but now it’s exhausting being around other people. I feel emotionally drained even being around family. I know I’m gonna have to get over this, because I can’t stay in my room at my parents house for the rest of my life. I want to go to college and get a good job. Both of those things are gonna have to involve being around other people on a daily basis. I can have a negative outlook on life, and when a lot of negative things are going on it makes it 10x more difficult to act cheery and positive. .

If you find chronic illness isolating – you’re not alone. I’m here and probably in my pajamas.

Lots of Love,

Alyssa