Item – Yeah, well, this cycle blew chunks. Hello cramps, hello blood. Come along for the ride, why don’t you. So, no, I am not going to come back ‘pregnate’ from vay-cayyyy-tion, urban myth be damned, screwed, buggered and dismembered.
Item – We catch a flight to the Alps tomorrow morning (‘ray). We have Swiss Francs (‘ray). We have new toothbrushes. (‘ray). My mother has called, emailed and texted us nine hundred and forty three times to check our flight-times (boo). As has FIL, who is not meeting us at the airport, or even arriving at all until a few days after we do (grr). I have packed my clothes (‘ray). I have packed all my ugliest black knickers and enough sanitary towels to make a double bed out of in a crisis (boo). I am having a weight-limit-of-luggage book-to-take emergency (boo). H is enduring said emergency with wry amusement (harrumph).
Item – We are going for a week. Can you live without me for a week? Of course you can. You’ve all got lives and everything.
Item – After much hanging about waiting to hear back from the Open University re: creative writing course, and a fair bit of phoning them and leaving messages and saying ‘bah!’ a lot, in between panicking that now, oh, now, that I finally have the courage to do it, it’ll all go tits up, I actually did speak to a human being this evening, who is my new best friend, and all is sorted and I am totally registered and doing the course starting next month *hyperventilates, falls over*.
Item – Just to make sure today did not contain so much as one electron of relaxation, I also had my annual PDR (Personal Development Review) this afternoon. Even though I think it went pretty well, and even though Alpha Boss was nice as pie through-out, and even though she hadn’t a single criticism to make, I was bricking myself. And now I can’t have a drink, as alcohol plus mefenamic acid plus tranexamic acid = holes burnt right through the stomach lining. Allegedly.
Item – Yes, I decided to take my drugs this cycle, despite the shock discovery that mefenamic acid and, in fact, most strong NSAIDS are implicated in ovulation problems, as well as being maybe, possibly, teratogenic (I knew that bit. I don’t touch anything stronger than paracetamol and pre-natal vitamins after ovulation. I’m so good). Agh. On the other hand, vomiting, fainting, and bleeding all over an aeroplane, or train-carriage, or God forbid a Swiss hotel room, not acceptable. But I shall be going back to Doc Tashless and berating him on return to these shores. Be-RATE-ing him. Because, seriously, does he know NSAIDS possibly inhibit ovulation? If he does, can I hit him with a chair? Do I have any alternatives to sterilising agents of death? Are they only an issue around ovulation and/or the two week wait? Why won’t Google tell me?
Item – I overthink everything, don’t I?