I KNEW I had a blog somewhere round here…

I think I was using the Olympics as an opiate. H and I watched as much of it as our respective work-schedules allowed, on television, on the BBC’s iPlayer when the particular events we liked were not being shown or had happened during the working day or the other of us didn’t care for it (archery, synchronised swimming (don’t laugh!), horse dancing (I like horses (H doesn’t)), diving heats (I like strapping young men in tight speedos (H doesn’t (but he did care who won the finals)), beach volleyball (don’t ask)). We leapt to our feet and screamed right there in our living room when Mo Farah won the 10’000 and the 5’000. We would’ve leapt to our feet and screamed when Bolt Did His Thing, but we didn’t have time to. We cheered Wiggins and Ennis and Grainger and Watkins and Pendleton and the Brownlees. We cheered Felix and Rudisha and Lysenko and Gelana. I wept with every athlete who wept on the podium. I bawled over the triumph-over-tragedy stories of Daley and Gibbons. And when someone fell, or false-started, or pulled a muscle and couldn’t run/jump/swim/dive, or got up anyway and tried to carry on, or just had the crappest luck, I also cried. I cried over Asafa Powell, FFS. When H and I went to see the marathon live on Sunday (which was just! So! Exciting! that I literally (as in really, yes I did, and I’m not exaggerating) skipped most of the way home)), I welled up at the sight of the last runner in the field limping bloody-mindedly along just in front of the sweeper van. And then when we watched it again on telly, I welled up for Stephen Kiprotich and his unique Ugandan gold medal.

And then it was all over, and we all feel completely deflated, also all alone with our anxieties and problems and their horrible little teeth. Oh dear.

H, for example, has been having kittens about our baby-making options. All these tests we’ve had – whatever the verdict is, it seems so very, well, huge, and possibly final, and descending with a clang, like a portcullis, also expensive and complicated (expensive portcullis!). And he wants a child. Which would all be quite enough to be getting on with thank you, but his job is not being any more easy to deal with, and nor is his wife. He comes home every night and tears his hair out, and then I complain that I have a pain in my sawdust, that’s what’s the matter with me, and he tears his hair out, and we talk about money and how many cycles we’re prepared to do with what medications and he tears his hair out, and then he goes back to work and finds Another Fine Mess to sweep up and tears his hair out and when he is finally spear-bald, to whom do we present the bill, oh Universe?

In which fine state of mind H – oh, and I – went back to Dr Expensive on Thursday to Hear The Verdict. And The Verdict made our heads ache. The short-and-curly version (I promise you a long-and-straightened version in the near future. You may nag me about it. You’re welcome) is, Dr Expensive wants me on Metformin, steroids, progesterone support, Clexane and intralipids; he wants H on multi-vitamins and anti-oxidants; he wants both of us on a ten-day course of Augmentin; he wants to do a uterine biopsy, this cycle if possible (EEK! And again I say, EEK!) ; and he wants us to do LIT. On the other hand, he doesn’t see why we need IVF. At all. Timed bonking will be fine.

Do pass that dustpan, there’s a lamb. Just writing it down made my head explode again.

But fear not! We have tickets for the Paralympics! In less than two weeks, it all starts up again, with even more added and extra poignancy and heroism, and I fully expect to jump up and down and skip and weep and scream encouragement and just generally let myself be completely blown away by it all all over again while pretending that my uterus doesn’t even exist for as long as she’ll let me get away with it. We don’t do Olympian cynicism chez May. Which is unexpected, but welcome.

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12 responses to “I KNEW I had a blog somewhere round here…

  • a

    I just caught snatches of the Olympics here and there. All these recountings make me wish I had watched more, and then I remember that I don’t care about sports. So, the bits I caught were enough.

    Poor H and his beautiful hair! Oh well, wigs are fun.

    Is Dr. Expensive connected to the pharmaceutical industry? The verdict sounds…like a chemistry experiment. That particular sort of thing got me through to having a kindergartener, so I will cheer you on. But I will wait for the long and straight version before I begin, because obviously there will be THOUGHTS about the verdict.

  • Amy P

    *Permission* to nag? No way that will backfire with people 8 hours behind you who are known to nag anyway, oh, no…

  • MelissiaKregis

    If it helps at all this nurse can send you metformin in the 500mg or 1000mg dosage as well as two different versions of steroids. Not that I would be sharing meds or anything because that would be wrong, wrong wrong! But you know, finances and all. Also augmentin may be had has well from a previous cycle that was not used ( long story).
    Just let me know. We canceled a cycle when our son was diagnosed with a brain tumor. So we do have these meds. Just let me know.

  • QoB

    That sounds like a lot of Things. But on the plus side, no IVF? Looking forward to the long and straightened version whenever you have it.

  • Everydaystranger

    I have the Universe’s email address. I am banging out an angry letter on your behalf RIGHT NOW.

    Also, by the sounds of it, you have the NHS pre-pay prescription card, oui? It is the awesome. Money saver on the meds, too.

    (As an aside – Paralympics tickets! Yay! We has too, whatcha’ seeing?)

    • Womb For Improvement

      Check it out, but I am pretty sure the pre-pay doesn’t work on prescriptions issued by a private clinc. So the only way would be to persuade your GP to issue it.

      • Everydaystranger

        Nope, I get my prescriptions paid for using my card. Am I sneaking through the system somehow? Alternatively, you can ask to have private prescriptions run through your GP (I’ve done that too. I realize how bad all of this sounds.)

        • Anonymous

          I’m glad you’re going to a GP to pick up some of these costs. Isn’t metformin for diabetes? Did Dr. Expensive diagnose with that? Since I had gestational diabetes in my last pregnancy, I’m trying hard to avoid being put in the category of having to take that drug– have heard it also can lead to, ahem, gastrointestinal distress.

  • Womb For Improvement

    I always think a plan, however complicated it might be, is better than no idea what to do next. But it is a lot to get your head round. Oof.

    I to cried on an almost daily basis whilst watching the olympics. All those years of hard work and they finally reaped their reward, or didn’t which was worse, if only I could think of anything in my life that was analogous with that….

  • Sudden excess of headache « Nuts in May

    [...] Having spent yesterday getting joyously blotto in a friend’s back garden, on the hottest day of summer so far, surrounded by people who were also getting quite irresponsible on Pimms (google is dangerous when strong drink has been taken, as are multiple smartphones, natural curiosity, and an unfortunate turn of conversation regarding the mating habits of pandas. I also learnt what a unicorn chaser is, and quite how much I would need one. All we had was Pimms. Which is exactly why I have a headache today), I did not spend this morning composing the long straightened explanation of Dr Expensive’s Better Living By Chemistry experiment. [...]

  • Twangy

    Wow, indeed. A great lot to be thinking about. A clear plan, however complicated, has its pluses, though, as my esteemed colleagues have pointed out above. And all those drugs do suggest treat-ability, which is very positive.

    Anyway! You have posted, I must away and read that now.

  • Dr Spouse

    Definitely a lot to think about.
    We are seeing horse dancing at the Paralympics!

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