It’s been a busy week. Oh, so busy. Mad crazy mad busy. In no particular order:
- HUGE piece of course-work to finish and hand in before the end of term. Yes, another one. There’s at least four more to do and all, and that’s not counting the dissertation. Tuesday night I fell asleep face-down on the keyboard of my lap-top at about one in the morning. Wednesday morning I was just printing out when I noticed a socking great mistake in the middle of my classification schedule, the correcting of which meant transposing every other damn thing. In pyjamas. Sitting cross-legged on the carpet in a snow-drift of notes. With the clock ticking relentlessly on to HAND IN TIME. On my wedding anniversary. Sob sob. Sob sob.
- Work. Mad. Also, darling line-manager’s last week before she skips off to her new life elsewhere. Things to arrange arrange arrange and oh so much to do and I shall have to explain what it is I DO do to her successor. What is it that I do? No one seems to know, least of all me.
- Scans. More on this in a minute, but really, running about the South East of England so people can poke me with cooter-cams at dawn, not so much the happy time.
- Did I mention it was my wedding anniversary on Wednesday?
The Wedding Anniversary was very nice, once I had printed out Version 2 (AKA ‘And If There’s Another Error Like Hell I’m Going To Look For It’) of the Coursework, put a skirt on, and dealt with work (quite a lot of people where away or skiving or simply not bothering to do anything at all as it was Easter, already, and there was me, trying not to tear my hair out as I’ll have double extra helpings of stuff to do after the holiday now and it’s all their fault).
And then I took a very deep breath, and went away to meet my husband for dinner at an exceedingly good restaurant. One of the best in the entire city, in fact. The sort where they don’t even have a table for the Archbishop of Canterbury on a week night. You have to book a time to book a table in. The sort of restaurant, in fact, with a wine-list the size of a good novel and quail’s eggs and trompettes de la mort and absolutely miniature little tiny teeny doll-house turnips in the Navarin of lamb, and blood-orange syllabub and coconut sorbet.
And there was jewelry. Oh yes. H got me earrings and a pendant of supreme prettiness. H is good. May is happy. May like shiny things. May likes H very much. In a special way.
And that is why I haven’t blogged about the Tuesday 18th scan yet.
Let me do that now… Well. I had another scan with Nice Lady Wand-Monkey at dawn in a semi-deserted hospital – I am being difficult, refusing to ovulate when expected, so my many many follow-up scans have to be fitted in wherever possible, no matter how bloody awkward the time and the transport at that time.
Guess how many lead follicles Queen Satsuma had? Go on. Do guess. Anyone? Bueller?
Who laughed bitterly and said ‘none’? Well done. Utterly correct.
Nice Lady Wand-Monkey was a little concerned. She turned the screen so I could see and we both stared hard at Queen Satsuma, who barely looked up from her copy of Vogue. Yep, lots of little stupid pointless follicles, no big follicles. I wondered if that one there didn’t look a teeny bit bigger than any of the others, but Nice Lady Wand-Monkey shook her head. She pointed out that my uterus had valiantly grown quite a nice lining, though, so there was that.
And then we stared some more, in case a good stare would shame one of the little slackers into sticking her chest out a bit or something. Eventually we both noticed I was still lying about nude from the waist down with a probe up me, and there was some hasty withdrawing and general re-application of clothing.
The plan is this. I go back next Tuesday for another scan. It is always possible that I could ovulate before Tuesday (on Sunday or Monday, given the time it would take to grow a useful follicle from scratch, as it were), in which case, I can always cancel the scan and ask for a celebratory 7-day-post-ovulation scan-and-blood-test instead. Nice Lady Wand-Monkey recommended using OPKs over the Easter long weekend, to see if anything is going on at all, and I gave her a Look, because the idea of wasting however many quid it turns out to be on yet more Sarcastic Pee-Sticks, when I could be spending it on chocolate… And in any case she didn’t seem very hopeful and kept shaking her head and pointing out that late ovulations weren’t of very good quality, which I did not want to hear as I clearly do everything late.
Anyway. You tell me. Should I bother with OPKs for the next few days?
Also, does having a decent lining at this stage mean jack?
Queen Satsuma spent today going ‘ping!’ at random intervals. I think she’s microwaving popcorn.