OK, so I can’t take Met and the contraceptive pill at the same time.
How did I find this out? The leaflet that comes with the Met. Not, note, from the GP who prescribed me the Met after spending many, many happy minutes playing with his online encyclopaedia of ‘What The Hell Is This Drug For?’.
Naturally I googled it and Dr Google confirms it – Met and oral contraceptives equals rollercoaster fun-time for a gal’s blood-sugar. Also, no surgery while on Met. Must come off Met for a few days before the thing with the anaesthetics. So, as I can’t come off the pill until after surgery, does that mean no Met until after surgery, in which case what will all that insulin do with itself as it waits? Will I wake up next week to find a little resignation letter from my pancreas on the pillow next to me?
Then I sat on the floor for a while, next to the boxes of pills I had thrown down in disgust, and thought harsh thoughts.
Oh, yes, and I spent an hour and a quarter in a room full of icky sick people this morning, waiting for a go with Needle Man, who, incidentally, is starting to recognize me and my blasé attitude towards sharp things – incidentally, why is the vial for serology so big? – and now I have a hole in my left arm again. To go with all the other little holes in my left arm.
Believe me, gentle readers, Doc Tashless and I will be having words.