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November 1, 2010


             I thought about my approach all weekend. I wanted to be understanding of someone else's point of view and I wanted to show a smidgeon of respect for it.  But I promised myself that I would not budge and my decision was final. I arrived at my obstetrician's office ready for battle, albeit a minor scrimmage. When the nurse took me back, I tried to warn her before we reached her intended destination. I attempted to save her the trouble of starting a debate, but she was not getting the point. Finally I explained, "I don't do scales." This was a new face, I had not seen her before and this would explain why she looked so confused, and a bit befuddled.  I always feel sorry for putting the nurses on the spot, but it's simple, I refuse to be weighed. Just as the unfamiliar nurse was explaining to me that it was a procedure that had to be followed, I shook my head side-to-side, standing far behind her and the intimidating mechanism of unwanted numbers and saw nurse Cindy coming toward us.

            Cindy is my obstetrician's nurse.  She is the smiley, full figured, round-faced nurse that happily gives me my weekly Progesterone shot in the rear.  The Progesterone is supposed to ward off early contractions and because I want to avoid going into labor early, I happily oblige.  Cindy opines whenever I see her that I should be eating without abandon and that I should be drinking lots and lots of fluids.  I listen to her but at the same time I feel guilty for even mentioning my disgust with my weight when Cindy is obviously content being so plump.  Honestly, however, I still haven't figured out how she manages to pull off being slightly intimidating to downright frightening when she is so pleasant and full of jolly in appearance. Perhaps I have visions of her putting me in a headlock until I cry Uncle, and because I appreciate breathing so much, I get on the scale.  I dunno, but I promised today, no scale, so...

            Even though Cindy came over, smiled and then pointed to the scale as if she were my commanding officer, I did not move. I had been through this with Cindy multiple times before, and even though I let her win on occasion, Rebellion took over today. Rebellion said that if nurse Cindy wanted to intimidate me into submission, I should just refuse to come to any future appointments. That would solve the problem. No more doctor appointments, no more scale, no problem.   Ok, but I wonder, could that also mean, no more baby?

Rebellion stood strong, put on a stoic face and applied Restraint as temporary reinforcement.  Rebellion will often use Reason and Restraint as diplomats in order to get its point across. Because nothing sounds worse than a bratty kid crying for candy before bedtime because ice cream instead of dinner was not enough of a treat. No, Rebellion has figured out that diplomacy is best and bratty behavior and tantrums disguised as negotiation is by far its best ploy yet.

            Restraint and Reason looked calmly into nurse Cindy's eyes and used a clever delay tactic.   "Cindy, I'll discuss this with the doctor during my appointment."  Cindy relented and nodded.  I was led away from the mental torture device and gladly waited for my obstetrician to examine me.   As I sat waiting, I practiced with Reason and Restraint, employing them to aide me in the inevitable discussion with my doctor. I did promise him the month before that I would agree to monthly weigh ins, but that was before Obsession started nagging me to eat less. This month I find myself telling him, "From this point on, I refuse to get on the scale, ever again." Then I laugh because I realize how ridiculous and insane I must sound to him. He looks stern and serious so much so that I wish there was something that I could say to ease the poor guy's concern. Somehow I think I failed in this endeavor, as what Reason and Restraint had to say didn't seem to offer much consolation. I asked him, "Even if I weren't eating and the baby was underweight, what could you do? Besides this baby has a green apple taffy addiction so I am gaining weight even if I don't want to, really doc, I'm eating. Trust me, I've recently gained five pounds!"   After Reason and Restraint state their position, Fear and Paranoia send me frightening images of me being locked away in a straight jacket while nurse Cindy happily force feeds me jelly filled doughnuts.  For a slight minute I think that could be something he could do, heck I no longer say what's the worst that could happen, that phrase is just no longer residing in my vocabulary.

The doctor can sense that Rebellion hasn't left the room and he isn't buying into Reason and Restraint's diplomacy.  He doesn't threaten to lock me away or have me force fed, he doesn't threaten to do anything, except maybe schedule an ultrasound in 5-6 weeks to evaluate the baby's growth and development. I breathe a little easier, yet I leave the doctor's office wondering if I have given my obstetrician cause to believe that crazy people should never get pregnant in the first place.

Even though my doctor wasn't very impressed, I adore Reason and Restraint.  Because without them, mere strangers would see how I really feel and what I really think about their rules, regulations and general bullshit. Strangers would see what my family experiences on a frequent basis, true Fury.

            Fury.. rage, anger and hate multiplied times five.

Fury is the result of Anger and Hate spending way too much time running rampant about, free and unsupervised. I first noticed its powerful presence about three years ago.   Fury dictates unbridled destruction of personal possessions, physical and bodily harm of others and demands total annihilation of the enemy. The problem with that is that anyone can be deemed an enemy, even me.

Fury has a way of suppressing all other moods because when it dominates there is no room for Fear, Reason or Restraint. When Fury is abound all I can do is sit back and watch in utter and complete horror for once it is triggered, Anger and Hate provide its fuel and it can run for miles.

I often wish that I could take back the vile and ugly things that I say and do when Fury has been speeding at about 100 miles hour with the windows down. When Fury is driving every gentle mood becomes but a blur.  Reason, Restraint, Patience, Humility, and Kindness all fly out the window.   All seatbelts and airbags have been disassembled because the impact that Fury will make is no accident. Fury thrives during the split second turn off into Insanity, the back and forth shifts in gears between Anger and Hate and it absolutely loves the spin out just prior to falling off the proverbial cliff.

Below the cliff and into the water I have fallen 1000 times. My wounds are nothing compared to those that I have inflicted upon others.  I lay quietly with Patience, drunk with Fear and Shame, occasionally being pushed under the water by Vengeance and Bitterness. I can usually see Peace, Faith and Joy just in the distance, holding out a life jacket for me and something within me says, "just swim." But before I can figure out whether or not I even remember how to swim, Fury rushes over me because it never really left.  Fury holds out its hand for me to board its 35-foot sailboat and I can hear Doubt just beneath the cabin saying, "I don't think you want to swim today, you're bleeding and with those guys, Peace, Faith and Joy, you will certainly be eaten alive."     

 posted on my blog site http://minnyfrank.wordpress.com/

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