I’ve always heard once you’ve lactated, you always will to some extent and I decided to test out that theory. Because I’m weird.
And I got some colostrum looking stuff and on this one little spot, I got blood. Um, wtf? Blood isn’t supposed to come from there!
So I tried it again. And again. And again because I was pretty damn sure my brain was making all this up. Then I asked Dr. Google and freaked myself the hell out–Heather told me via text, “Dr. Google is the evil.” and she’s totally right. I woke Tucker up, told him I had to go to the doctor today and then stared at the ceiling.
When I stumbled into the bathroom this morning, I reminded Tucker I had to go to the doctor and I squeezed my nipple–never in a million years thought I’d write that on this blog–as I hoped a whole bunch that it had just been another hyperreal dream.
And there was the blood.
And Tucker looked worried which scared me but I was freaked out anyway so it’s TOTALLY NOT his fault.
I called the doctor’s office and just about every person who works in that office is Irish and no nonsense and they have the best accents known to man. The nurse asked–in her awesome accent–if I could be there at 0800 and I had to ask if there was anything later since Tucker has to take off work to keep the kids.
She huffed at me–she’s does that anytime I ask for a later appointment–and gave me 1230. I had been hoping for like 1500. Oh well.
I have several hours before my doctor looks at me like I’m crazy and I keep thinking about having to explain to Cara why I’m going to the doctor and how I’m 29 years old and I’m being dumb or about how pissed I’m going to be if I don’t get to go to Blissdom because my boob starts leaking or other random stupid stuff that inadvertently keeps my mind off of other stuff.
Cause that other stuff is scary shit.