Let’s Talk About It…

You know what gets my anxiety cooking bright and early? Bloodwork. Not the actual blood draw—although I don’t love that either. It’s the whole process. The mental gymnastics before I even get in the car.

Today’s one of those days. I’ve got general tests and lab work on the calendar, and I’m already spiraling—and y’all, I haven’t even brushed my hair yet.

Because here’s how it goes:

You sit.

You wait.

You sit some more.

You wait again.

The waiting room door opens—

Not you.

Opens again—

Still not you.

Again?

Nope.

And then finally, they call out…

“Mary?”

And sweet baby Jesus, I cringe.

Now let’s be clear—I have precious people in my life named Mary. I love them.

But when I’m called “Mary” in a doctor’s office, my entire body tenses. Not because it’s an ugly name (it’s not), but because I am not Mary. I am Mary Jane. Or Jani. Or MJ.

But never just “Mary.”

Why? Because my mind immediately flashes to my Mary.

Mary Kay.

As in my mother.

(And yes, that’s a whole chapter that deserves its own blog post… just not today. Trust me. It’s coming. With snacks and seatbelts.)

So I finally get called back—by the wrong name, of course—and before I can even roll up my sleeve for the blood draw, they make me step on the scale.

For bloodwork.

Why do they need my weight to test my vitamin D?

Oh, that’s right. It’s so the pharmacy can be alerted that I’ve emotionally snacked my way through another month of midlife stress and menopausal chaos. 🙃 Also, I drank half a cup of coffee so, I am not on their favorites list today.

Now listen, I do love my NP. She’s kind, makes me feel human, and never talks to me like she’s reading off a script. She’s one of the few in healthcare that makes me feel seen, not just scanned. She makes me laugh and we chat like besties!

Still—despite all that—I’m anxious before I even leave the house.

My brain is a circus, my blood pressure is confused, and I haven’t even put on a bra yet.

So, if you’ve ever felt overwhelmed by the most basic parts of a medical check-up, hi. I see you.

We’re out here just trying to survive the healthcare system, one name mix-up and weigh-in at a time.

And no—I am not Mary.

But yes, the story behind her is coming. Just give me time and the right bottle of wine.

XOXO, Jani

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