New Love, New Neuroses

An article I read recently likened new love to a "mental health crisis", like a drug addiction or obsessive compulsive disorder. In addition, there are cooky little pheromones and hormones causing us to run around obliviously attracting mates who are biologically compatible with ourselves.

"Pheromones are chemicals capable of acting outside the body of the secreting individual to impact the behavior of the receiving individual" (medterms.com)

Creepy, huh?



Crazy in love?

I can buy that.

I can attest to the notion that LOVE FEELS GOOD.

And who doesn't like the brandy-new kind? You want more (read: all) of the person you love. I mean all the time. To be newly smitten gives off that constant internal high, the flutters in the stomach, the feeling of amazement and wonder as to why a person is so right for us, and where have they been until now?

New love can also be distracting and flustering when it occupies so much brainpower that you walk around in a lovely fluffy mental cloud all day long. Personally, I go through my day wondering what this person is doing. Or thinking. Or who he is talking to? Or is he thinking of me? It's a wonder I get anything accomplished.

The newly dating period is euphoric. Long talks on the phone, asking tons of dumb questions like what cereals do you like and would you rather wash dishes or fold clothes? It is never boring, even when investigating the mundane. You marvel over how compatible you are with each other. You make others around you nauseous with your constant idiotic grinning and love pats and kisses when they are subjected to the two of you together. It just feels all happy and tingly to sit near each other and touch as many body parts as is publicly allowed.

What? Why is that so wrong?



As if a halo of starry sparkles and aromic potpourri is following us around, and everyone must know it.

After a while, the comfortableness sets in and the brandy-newness wears off. This is still a good stage. You are still feeling pretty special and blessed to have a partner to share every thought with and be inseparable with. You get used to being loved by someone daily and being a focal point in their life and them being one in your life.

Real life situations arise, like staying over with each other and running out of toilet paper, or dealing with each others' exes/kids/parents/jobs/etc. Reality is good. Reality is what lets you know this one is possibly THE ONE. Without a healthy dose of reality, a new couple cannot be prepared for the future. Somebody's bubble is gonna burst.

All the important and unimportant questions have been asked. Talk-time is over. Now its time for action.



In a Jack-from-Will&Grace-style...aaand BACK TO ME. I will fess up and admit this next part is truly all about me...

The action phase is where I get a bit looney-tunes. My own issues with this area begins with the fact that I'm a chronic planner as well as my tendency to ask questions about a future that hasn't happened yet and expect coherent answers like, yesterday.

I get it stuck in my head what I want it to look like, like something I saw on a cheesy rom-com, and I want to know NOW if that is gonna happen. Just tell me now, honey, how will the next 5 years go? Because if it's something I don't like, let's not waste your and my time. This gets me in trouble. This gets me labeled a control-freak, a nag, a neurotic.

Ok, ok, I've never heard a mate of mine call me those things but I am imagining this is what their internal alarms are blaring when I start asking "when?" BEEP-BEEP! FREAK! FREAK! FREAK! RUN AWAY! Poor guys.


In my current sorta brandy-new relationship, a lot of things will have to take place before we are able to reside in the same town, let alone the same house. My past history with men has always been that of allowing long courting periods as long as there is a goal in sight. I went 4 years dating before I married my ex-husband. I stayed in my relationship with Romeo for almost 3 years, always assuming our lives would merge Eventually. Well, that one was a shocker (to me) and it ended abruptly with the realization that Eventually wasn't in his plans. Sooo, in my current situation, I'm hesitant to go on blind-faith that Eventually will arrive as planned in my regimented little mind. At the age of 40, I feel I don't have years to "wait-and-see" how things will flush out.

Yes, I know. Breathe. I am trying. I have talks with myself all the time. Come on, give the guy a chance. He's saying all the right things. He's doing all the right things. He loves me. He tells me he loves me. He loves my kids. He loves where I live and isn't asking me to give up my life and move. He fixes stuff around the house (bonus!). He makes me laugh. He loves my kids. Oh, did I say that already?

Yeah, I think it is wise to take a breather on my usual mental hyperactivity and hang on for the ride with this one. He's worth it.

All Clear in the Boob Department

The pain of my breast biopsy was almost gone three days later, when I called into my doctor for the results. I was supposed to hear from her after 48 hours, but seeing how it was Friday, and the biopsy was done on Tuesday, I figured my results were laying in a pile on her desk and her office staff had jammed up her schedule so she was not able to look at them.

In my humble opinion, taking a few hours a day to look at test results and then make the promised phone calls to nervously-waiting patients who are contemplating how they could possibly make it through chemo while they still coach their 7 year old's volleyball team is not too much to ask, right? I don't know. Maybe it's just me, but as a Lady Doctor, I'd be pretty damn adamant with my office staff to allow this important time in my schedule.

When I called I got the doctor's nurse line, and had to leave a message. More waiting. Finally I got a call back. From the nurse. "Everything was fine.", she said.

Wow, she went to school to learn to say that.

So I had to ask, "It was benign?" "Yes, yes, the results were benign, follow-up mammo in six months.", she said quickly. Did she have somewhere else to be? I hope it was calling other 85 ladies waiting at 4pm on a Friday to get good news. I assumed the actual doctor was making the NON-good news calls. She better be.

Thanks, Lady-who-is-not-My-Doctor.

Thanks.

Breast Biopsy...Not My Idea of a Good Time

Did the breast biopsy, and I can honestly say, I'd rather get a root canal. You saw the picture I posted in my last post. Torture chamber, yessiree. Laying on my stomach with my boob through a hole so they can xray it while they are probing it...lots of pulling and prodding. Under that table there was a world of busy going on, and I was powerless to stop it.

Initially, I only had pain from the prick of the needle which numbed the incision spot, about like the needleprick from your dentist for a root canal or cavity filling. But the position I was made to lay in on that damn table had my neck and back in spasms by halfway through it. This is no massage table, people. No hole for your head to hang in its natural position while your back and shoulders are massaged into bliss. Imagine laying on a chaise lounge on your stomach, sunbathing, but with your left arm above your head, and your head staying sharply to the right. For an hour. When I sunbathe, I move around alot. Not comfortable to keep one position on a flat surface. Apparently no one's told the mammogram/biopsy people this. I finally had to turn my head awkwardly to the left just to keep from screaming out with the cramp in my neck. This didn't help at all. Here comes a cramp beginning on the other side.

I had my iPod music going and tried to doze off but they were pulling me this way and that and machines were making noise and they were flashing xrays the whole time. When they got the tissue they needed, they went to look at the xrays again, and did a few more to be sure they had the right spot. They put in a titanium marker to denote the place for my next mammogram. That stays with me. Finally I was released from the vise and my incision was patched up. I was bleeding through the gauze but I was made to do another standing mammogram in the next room to be compare to my originals. More bleeding, on the machine, on the floor, on my robe. Surprisedly, I did not get sick at any of this. I should get a medal. Oh, guess I did...a titanium one.


This Stereotactic Biopsy/through-the-hole-in-the-table procedure was done because there was no obvious lump to sample, so they had to go in guided by the multiple xrays. When it was done, I was sent home with an icepack and more gauze to try to stop the bleeding. Only Tylenol for the pain. I wandered out of there in a daze. Such a weird experience.

The worst after-effect is my neck and back still aching from the odd position and a tender spot on my breast. My chiropractor did what he could for the neck and back. Ice has helped too. My only other post-procedure woe is waiting to hear from the doctor on the results. I'm sure that I'm not the most important thing on her docket, but hoping for today or tomorrow.