I don’t know, what?

I had an odd, inconclusive visit to the GP on Friday afternoon. Doc Tashless was not available, so I took whoever was available, and ended up speaking to an extremely nice, sunny woman who, get this, had actually read my notes before I came into the room, and one of the first things she said to me was ‘oh, you have had a rough time, haven’t you?’. Wow. And I smiled demurely and just about managed not leap to my feet, punching the air and shouting ‘YEESSSSSSS!’ (Incidentally, why the hell did I smile demurely? That’s so… British).

Anyway, I had gone to get my blood test results. And I got a result. Singular. I thought Doc Tashless had asked for tests on antiphospholipid antibodies, cardiolipin antibodies and Lupus antibodies, but all I got back was my Anti-cardiolipin antibody level. Apparently it’s under 10 iu/mL, and apparently that’s good. Which is good. But seriously, what the hell happened to everything else? Are they all the same test? Were there supposed to be three different tests? Sunny GP said that that was all they had in the results file. The original paperwork, of course, went off to the lab along with the sample, so we can’t find out, no, wait, I can’t prove, that Doc Tashless wanted all three things.

It was a bit of an impasse, to be honest. I was a leeeetle peeved about the missing results, and Sunny GP was reassuring me over and over again that the RM Clinic would do all the tests very carefully, including all the clotting and bleeding disorder ones, and not miss any out, which was sweet of her, but was not answering my actual question, and my asking of the actual question was somewhat bollixed because I couldn’t remember the word ‘antiphospholipid’. Agh. In the end I politely caved and dropped the subject in favour of one very dear to my heart.

Painkillers! Yes! For the periods from hell! I have proven to my own satisfaction that mefenamic acid is about as much use as a fart in a punctured space-suit. I pointed this out, less colourfully, to Sunny GP, and she said she was very sorry but as I wanted to get pregnant all they could offer me was pain-relief. I said I was aware of this. She said, in that case, would I like a prescription of co-codamol? And I said, with possibly unseemly enthusiasm, ooohh, yes please! Because they gave me that stuff for surgery and when I was miscarrying, and it really helps and also, whooooooooooooo I is stoned, giggle giggle. It really helps, by the way, because it is a freakin’ opiate. Opiates! Like Samuel Taylor Coleridge used to take to get his freak on and write Kubla Kahn! Oh, yes, and it also contains paracetamol. There’s nothing glamorous about paracetamol.

(NSAIDs and I are clearly having a bit of a hate-hate relationship these days, as I’ve worked my way up from aspirin to ibuprofen to naproxen to mefenamic acid and however effective ibuprofen is for a nasty headache, my uterus sneers at them all. (Except possibly diclofenac but that makes me feel even more stoned than the co-codamol and also gives me stomach ache, and anyway, diclofenac hard to come by unless you’ve spent a night on a surgical ward)).

So. I still have no idea what is wrong with me, but at least now medical professionals are a) taking it all very seriously and b) giving me opiates. Score.

Roll on 7th of December.

Tomorrow I go back to work, for the first time in nearly three weeks. I feel very shy and nervous about this. I mean, c’mon, I was away for three weeks. People will want to know. I have rehearsed my answers over and over again (‘No, I wasn’t on holiday, I was ill. Yes, I’m much better, thank you. It’s kind of you to be concerned, but I’d prefer not to talk about it, thank you.’). Last time I was completely blind-sided by one chirpy colleague gushing ‘Ooh, May, you’ve lost weight!’, and had to spend 20 minutes sitting in the loo with my head in my hands. God knows what it’ll be this time.

Tomorrow I also have another acupuncture appointment. Shit, but it sucks telling people all about it face-to-face. And last time I saw her, it was only a few hours before I got that poor, doomed little second pink line. And I told her my period was late but I hadn’t had a positive test and I didn’t know what was going on at all at all at all, so she for once did not set fire to me, and did very gentle acupuncture instead, just in case. Arse. Damn. Etc..

Meanwhile, Satsuma had had enough of being ignored, and over the past few days has staggered back into action. No idea if any of this action is conclusive yet, or if she’s just messing about because she’s bored. I can feel her aching and fussing, and *ahem* fertile signs are occurring *ahem*. H and I had a sad little discussion about sex, performance of, sans or avec rain-coats, and I got a little unreasonable at the very idea of missing a possible chance (nope, can’t shake the ‘anovulatory’ label. Still believe it’s true, despite hay-stacks of evidence to the contrary). But I’ve also rather gone off sex (yes, I know! Me! Off sex! I’d’ve been less startled if they’d told me Richard Dawkins was an Episcopalian). So in the end, I decided if we felt like it, we’d do it totally nekkid, and if we didn’t, we wouldn’t do it at all, and therefore let the tenor of our desires dictate just how ready to try again we were. Since when, we’ve done it, but I’ve been rather depressingly unenthusiastic and participating in a spirit of ‘just in case’. Which is not quite what I meant. Damn and blast and damn all over again. What do I mean, anyway? What, for that matter, do I want?


8 responses to “I don’t know, what?

  • Ben Warsop

    >> I’d’ve been less startled if they’d told me Richard Dawkins was an Episcopalian

    Well, why not? They believe far more in tea and biscuits than they believe in god.

    Onwards and onwards eh. Good luck tomorrow. Everyone’ll think it was swine flu.

  • Hairy Farmer Family

    Ah, honey. I’m so glad I’m not the only one who gets through the GP’s door and loses her vocab. I drop about 50 IQ points whenever I’m in there, which is crucifyingly annoying.

    For some reason I had shedloads of out of date diclofenac kicking about a while ago – I think I had a bad back & John had a bad knee, but neither of us are big on pills unless actively groaning – but I think I may have chucked the majority of them, despite being perfectly confident in their efficacy. Will post you some if I can find them!

    I am in awe of Satuma’s recent prowess, incidentally. I shall buy her a new velvet cushion if she continues like this!

  • Betty M

    I too have boxes of out of date diclofenac tucked away which you are welcome to but warning a) I needed zantac to go with and not the otc stuff and b) it was theonly thing out of my not slim lupus drug regimen that absolutely everyone including conservative ivf clinic said was a total and absolute no when ttc.

    On the Hughes tests – LA and aCL are different sorts of antiphospholipids so you don’t need three different tests only two. Doesn’t explain why you only got one but it wouldnt surprise me if one test was delayed. The lupus foundation of america website is quite good on antiphospholipids.

  • twangy

    Hope your work day is going well and the colleagues are showing an iota of tact.
    And, although, if it was up to me, you would never have another period from hell ever again, blogging in opiate-fueled verse like Coleridge might be a possible upside?

  • Teuchter

    Hope tomorrow goes ok, May, and that workmates will jolly well behave themselves and treat you gently.
    Hope also that the test results materialise – and make complete sense.

    I’m feeling a sense of kinship here. I too have a cupboard full of diclofenac and other PO analgesics, thanks to RFA, and I turn into a complete imbecile in the GP’s room. I reckon they have a machine that turns off your brain on the way in there so you don;t annoy them with difficult questions. But – ahah! – I can foil their dastardly plot by writing it down on a bit of paper before I leave home. If I could just manage not to lose said bit of paper between my own front door and theirs, it would help. Perhaps there’s another machine which turns ones handbag into The Place Where Things Disappear.

    Now – I’m off to mutter an encouraging mantra in the direction of your Satsuma.

  • putz

    yes it does rain all the time in england….have lived in newmarket, preston, salford, liverpool, great yarmouth, birmigham, british medicine …i have had two examples, standing in line to get a test of my coughing up blood, a guy in back of me with a rag over his eye, what happeend i asked, oh ran a poker through it, well here have my place in LINE….2nd positive, a friend, american getting colds all the time, well no wonder says the doc, your nose is crooked letting all the germs in as a free way

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