I have been rather frazzled this week. Beginning of term. New student. Lectures, and classes, and meeting new people, and trying to think of appropriate, amusing, but not smart-arse remarks to make so new people don’t visibly flinch when I sit next to them. Reading lists, course-work, nasty canteen coffee. The I run down the road, go behind the desk, and deal with it all again as a member of staff. Good Lord, but new students take up so much time. Whyever do they not read the leaflets we give them, which explain everything really rather clearly? Why queue for ten minutes to ask a person, who then will not be able to come with them to help but who will re-direct them to another queue somewhere else? Or to the leaflet. They could read the leaflet. But no, they trot off to the Help Desk queue. And then I run back up the road and go to the other library as a student myself, and the leaflet is completely incomprehensible and certainly does not answer my question about online renewals. So I queue for ten minutes at the issue desk, because I have no idea where they have hidden the help desk.
I finally managed to find a free morning in which to have an insulin test. It’s all very dull. Do not eat breakfast. Go to the clinic. Take a card with a number on it. Wait (wait wait wait wait wait) until the nurse calls your number. This takes about an hour. Follow the nurse to the little dark room where they puncture people. Feel grateful that it’s the taciturn nurse who has the gentlest and neatest technique in town, and not the chatty nurse who stabs at you until she hits a vein by sheer accident. Hand over requisition form. Present neat patch of minute white craters in crook of left elbow. Look away. All done. Go home, eat breakfast, wait for two weeks.
As for the Malignant Satsuma that is my ovary, the pill seems to have reset it, as it spent two weeks doing nothing at all, and is now beginning to feel tender, while my fertility signs, as my fertility charting website sweetly calls them, are beginning to look, well, fertile. So, either I am very very quickly falling back into estrogen dominance (booo!) or I am going to ovulate (yay!) but H and I have been, well, enthusiastic about each other lately, and I had said I didn’t really want to get pregnant straight away (oops), well, I DO want to get pregnant straight away, but then I don’t because it would really mess with my degree, and it’d serve me right for assuming my body will never work it out by itself, even though the three months after BCP can indeed be the most fertile in a PCOS woman’s life because the pill has indeed as I mentioned reset the ovary.
Fertility charting makes me neurotic.