Today has been quite bad. Mostly because I am extremely angry.
Things I am seething about right now:
- On visiting a particular post on a person’s blog, it is always wise to check their latest post as well. Or you might find yourself writing something wildly inappropriate, for the blogger’s particular circumstance that is, and making said blogger angry and tearful. Again. After she’s been like that all day. And has a headache now.
- If one of your students emails you on a Thursday morning to tell you she won’t be coming into college or finishing her course-work on time because she’s having a miscarriage instead, for chrissakes email her back within 24 hours, or at least before the weekend, or she’ll waste precious fretting reserves on worrying whether you a) got the email, b) are going to cut her the required slack, c) give a fuck, or d) all three.
- Do not ask a miscarrying woman if there was something she could have done to save the pregnancy. If there was, don’t you think she would have fucking well done it? Seriously, do you think she sat there thinking ‘Oh, if I don’t do this, I might miscarry, but hey, I can’t be arsed.’? No? You don’t think that? Then what in hell’s name did you say it for? I think I shall be waking up at three in the morning to chew my nails to the quick over this one for many many weeks to come. Thanks, Mum.
- Dear NHS doctors and nurses, I do love you really, but could you be less damn chirpy when discussing the rearranging of ultrasounds and possible D&C/ ERPCs? I do understand that Wednesday is the earliest day you could book me into theatre, and I do understand that moving the ultrasound to Wednesday morning therefore makes sense, even though it was originally scheduled for Monday, and I know the delay is partly because I took so long to get back to you with a decision about ‘surgical management of the miscarriage’. The delay is upsetting, yes, but unavoidable. The fucking chirpy brisk matter-of-fact attitude is totally fucking avoidable. I am having a miscarriage here, not a bloody tonsillectomy. Show some respect.
- This whole process keeps stopping and starting. I bleed. I stop bleeding. I cramp. I stop cramping. I start bleeding again. I stop. My back hurts. This is driving me crazy. Chirpy NHS Minion assured me this was ‘within normal’. She also seemed to think it would practically guarantee I’d need surgery on Wednesday. See? My body can’t even do this properly. Define properly, mind you.
I think I am especially angry today because I had to phone the ACU and the EPU and leave messages explaining everything to answerphones and minions and then wait forever for them to get back to me and then explain everything all over again.
I looked at myself in the mirror earlier today. I look grey, almost gaunt, and there are circles under my eyes. I went up to H and said ‘I look like shit,’ and he kindly, regretfully agreed. This is a good thing. It would be inappropriate to look my usual rosy round-faced comedy milk-maid self.