Don’t read this, it’s whiny.

I am smack-bang in the middle of a fit of ‘I hate my life’ right now. And how do I hate it? Let me count the ways:

  1. I am never never not ever going to get pregnant again. This one may or may not be true, but it is somewhat dominating the thought-processes at the moment.
  2. Good Christ, but all the phoning and waiting and phoning and waiting and fossicking about and chewing one’s nails off and running about and phoning some more that one has to go through when all one really wants is five days-worth of Provera and enough Clomid to move up to 100mg a day for the remaining four cycles.
  3. Also, if this is the ACU’s idea of close monitoring, they can etcetera etcetera with their own ultrasound machines – in fact, they probably are etceteraing with said machines. It’s not like they are using them on their patients.
  4. I wish I had got to speak to Nice Lady Wand-Monkey instead of Smug Bloke. She may well have said exactly the same things, but she has never patronised me rigid yet, and iss very good at appropriating all the embarrassing parts of a conversation to herself, to spare me the need to say ‘ovulation’ and ‘OPK’ and ‘period’ out loud during office hours. Unlike certain other ACU employees.
  5. A chance has come up to drop Old Part-Time Job and do Dream Job full time instead. However, I am having to apply, in full, with endless forms detailing all relevant experience and referees and everything, for, basically, my own job, that I have been doing for 10 months already, and have galloped through probation for with flying colours. Because, apparantly, it would contravene Equal Opportunity legislation for The-Powers-That-Be to simply extend my hours. So we must all waste a great deal of time and money putting out job advertisments and answering them and interviewing and shit, and seeing as, barring Acts of God and/or Idiocy, I’ll get the job, how freaking equal is it to enveigle unsuspecting members of the public into applying for something so very pointless? Unless The-Powers-That-Be are trying, politely, to tell me I am A Giant Heap Of Shit.
  6. I went to work yesterday and today, in that irritating ‘I feel ill but not quite ill enough‘ state. We are very short-staffed and over-worked and I have been getting home almost crying with tiredness and aching all over. Do you suppose this could have something to do with my state of mind? I do hope so. Otherwise it’s back to the Giant Heap Of Shit hypothesis.

5 responses to “Don’t read this, it’s whiny.

  • Rachel

    Argh! I wish that the ACU office would get back to you. And that you didn’t have to waste your time applying for a job you are currently in. Here’s to a much better next week.

  • Hairy Farmer Family

    Here in the UK, we waste money like no other. We place job adverts that are essentially a sham, and we fund ACUs that have all the equipment and bloody ‘orrible staff who won’t damn well use any of it. Hrumph.

    Puzzled. Four cycles completed, one cycle in, umm, mid-cycle, plus four cycles still to come equals (although, my maths is usually comically bad. John and his mother used to scramble in undignified fashion for the kitchen table chairs adjacent to me so that neither would land me as their Bridge partner. It’s no good having a poker-face if you also have to calculate tricks in a lip-readable mutter.) nine cycles. Six is the usual number, I fought?

  • MsPrufrock

    Number 6 is me right now. Blurgh. I think it’s the Neti Pot that did it, so stick to your School of Vicks my friend, do not listen to me! “Stick to your School of Vicks” sounds like a really lame insult, and I am somehow entertained. It must be because I’m doped up on shit – I don’t even know what – I just keep popping pills and downing vile liquids.

  • Betty M

    Can I join you in the life can be a giant heap of shit position? I’m sorry that you have still to deal with the ACU shitty bureaucracy on top of everything else.

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