Item – On Thursday, I had my second acupuncture session. Nice Earrings was on holiday, so I was treated by a different person, also a nice friendly lady, in front of whom I felt fairly comfortable stripping down to my bra and knickers. The treatment, however, was rather less relaxing, as quite a few on the needles hurt. At least none of them went anywhere intensely private this time.
Item – But she was very keen on using moxa. This became problematical when she treated a point on my belly. From navel to pelvic girdle, my belly is mottled with numb patches. I had major surgery when I was 18, to remove Satsuma’s Twin of Doom and her ugli-fruit-sized strangulated teratoma. It was an emergency, they rather messily hacked me open from hip to hip, and there was nerve-damage. Luckily, only to the skin on my belly, above the scar (below the scar, I’d've been sueing people, you get me?). Anyway, the moxa treatment relies on me being able to mention I can feel the heat so the practitioner can whisk it off the skin before I get burnt. Um. On belly no can do. The first one, she suddenly whisked it off unasked and looked with deep concern at my stomach. (Don’t panic, I wasn’t burnt at all). Feeling like a dork for not mentioning it already, I explained that there was very little sensation in that area, so, um. She kept a very close eye on the succeeding sets of moxa. I didn’t feel the belly needles either, which I think rather disappointed her. They were supposed to be stimulating my lady organs, which, being borked, should have created a distinct ouchy reaction. Oh well.
Item – She finished up with a point in the palm of my hand which hurt like the bloody blue blazes. She did warn me it’d hurt. I flinched. She then embarrassed me hugely by praising my bravery and high pain threshold. Apparantly, most people yell. Ah well, you see, she said in a grandiose manner, those of us who Know Pain, also know yelling is a waste of endurance energy. We don’t yell much. We do, however, swear under our breath, which is exactly what I did once she’d left me to put my clothes back on.
Item – After the first acupuncture session, I felt distinctly jolly and lively for a good few hours. After the second, I felt dopey, relaxed, vague, and candy-floss-for-brains.
Item – Since starting acupuncture, I have taken to waking up at six in the morning. This is Not OK, especially on the nights don’t go to sleep until gone one because I am a raging insomniac. Harrumph.
Item – But I have to admit to having more energy. Because it’s true.
Item – On Saturday, H and I spent the day with his parents, who were having a garden party. It took us two hours to get there by train, they live in a rural idyll, we were relying on them for transport. Imagine my feelings when, on visiting the loo, I found blood on my underwear. I had been feeling crampy, but not taking it very seriously as it was only 11dpo, or 10dpo if you go by me rather than my fertility chart. And now, blood. Early. ARSE. I mopped up, mentioned the occurence discretely to H, dug through my MIL’s bathroom cabinets for sanitary wear but found alas not a single dusty hold-over from her pre-menopausal days, and spent the day therefore with a wad of tissue in my knickers.
Item – Did I mention crampy? And feeling crampy.
Item – So I had three glasses of wine.
Item – Also I had them because I was forced to dip strawberries in melted chocolate. I wouldn’t have minded, but the chocolate had cinnamon in it, and I didn’t think it’d work, but MIL said it would be lovely, so I dipped lots and lots and laid them out on platters for the party, and apparantly they tasted weird. See?
Item – I really don’t share kitchens well. Also, crampy ( I think I said) and leaky, so very very grouchy. But I promise I tried extremely hard not to show it.
Item – H’s grandmother drove us to the last possible train we could possibly catch, and her tyre blew on the way. Which was fun. Luckily the train was late, so I got to watch H doing hugely manly tyre-changing things in the station car-park. Mmmmm. I helped, I lifted the burst tyre into the boot. Because I too am manly. No, wait…
Item – TMI warning, as if the above weren’t enough for you.
Item – Now, I definitely felt wetness. Enough wet to soak through the tissues and my knickers. I nipped back to the loo, and, err, and WTF? Because I seemed to be leaking very, very faintly brown-tinged water now. And not blood, or even mere spotting, at all. And this water seemed to be coming from the vahaha and was almost certainly not a hideous bladder accident. At least, I hope so. I had had three glasses of wine.
Item – and today, day 12 or possibly 11, it has stopped, as have the cramps, and my BBT is still high, whereas normally, it drops by now.
Item – I took a pregnancy test this morning. Yes, I know. Shut up. Please shut up. It was negative.