So, as my Gentle Readers will know, this cycle has gone all anovulatory on my arse [pause for wailing and gnashing of teeth here].
It’s day, hang on, let me check, 42. 42, people. An I were normal, my period would be late.
Anyway, I was wending on my anovulatory way, beginning to plan Mission Provera, or, The Assault On NHS Bureaucracy Reloaded, when I noticed I was spotting just a tad. Hmm, I thought. It’s only a tiny trace of (old, brown) spotting. I shall ignore it. The next day, yesterday, there was a little more, and my temperature, which had been meandering about indecisively along the ‘line’ I normally draw between pre-ovulatory and luteal, suddenly dropped. Harrumph, I said, I’ve been here before, and am not in the mood to play games with Bitch Hope. I shall ignore this too.
Today, my lower right abdomen started hurting like the bloody blue blazes. And I thought, oh, could I be ovulating at last? Or is this more mind-fuckery?
And I went to work. Owie. Ow. Work work work, tra-la-la, ow buggerit.
Until I went to the loo just before lunch.
Bright, bright red blood on the toilet paper. I’m bleeding.
I panicked. This is why I panicked. I sat in the loo for nearly fifteen minutes, coaching myself in steady breathing, in-two-three-four, hold-two-three-four, out-two-three-four, hold-two-three-four, look at the paper again, oh God the blood’s still there, breathe, breathe.
And then I went back to work and dealt with every single moron in higher education in Britain (in-two-three-four, out-two-three-four), and by mid-afternoon I felt as if my skull would implode under the sheer pressure of the muscle-tension in my jaw. So I left early.
H was at home in his PJs, as he had also had a bad headache, only his had lasted all day, and I think he’s a little feverish. Poor H. I really, really improved matters by announcing my ovary-ish area really hurt and I was bleeding and once my latest cup of tea had percolated through, I was going to pee on something. H looked baffled – ‘but I thought you’d run out of OPKs?’ he said, following me bewildered from room to room as I strode to and fro like a tiger at the circus. I explained that the whole thing reminded me horribly of Zombryo and even though it was far, far, far, far more likely to be a) a very lively ovulation from Miss Satsuma, showing off, or b) a cyst, I had to be sure.
So I peed on a stick.
Dear Readers, there’s a… something. It is certain be an evaporation line, it’s so very very faint. But H thinks he can see it too. And it hasn’t vanished. It’s over an hour later and the stupid thing hasn’t vanished. BUT, it’s so faint it doesn’t really seem to have any pink dye in it all.
And remember, my temperatures never went up properly (I’ve been tracking them remorselessly since the beginning of the cycle. Zombryo crept up on me because it was Christmas and I couldn’t be bothered to chart and I ovulated spectacularly early). Now, of course, they’ve gone down. I’ve had EWCM for weeks. A sneaky ovulation 9 or 10 days ago? Extremely, extremely unlikely. But I took a low-dose aspirin anyway.
I’ve probably just ovulated, haven’t I? That’s what today’s all about, yes? I’m getting my knickers in a knot over nothing, aren’t I? Aren’t I? We’ll all be laughing at this – ha ha so embarrassing – next week.
Oh God, the drama.