May is curled up with hot-water bottle, hot drink and feeling stoned from the codeine between bouts of cramping. So update duties have been delegated to me.
We are sorry. To each other, to you all. We spent most of the morning just lying in bed next to each other not saying much – struck dumb I guess you could say – apart from tearfully apologising to each other. I think I feel worse about May’s pain and more sorry in a miscarriage situation, as I’m part of the cause somehow. May apologises, I think, because she feels broken and guilty.
Late morning we trooped round to the GPs to get painkiller prescription, ask how pointless doing a day three FSH would be (very) (but at least they did say for future reference they’re are happy to do it there and print/send the results to the Hospital in the Country, rather than May having to make the trip personally on the ‘I think I’m going anaemic and dizzy’ day). GP suggested that May had scans to confirm miscarriage (and mentioned something about ectopic possibilites – think we’ll put that to one side for now) before taking anything other than co-codamol. Ooops, we already emailed The Professor’s clinic to say scans unnecessary… kept schtum and shuffled of to chemist.
First thing dispatches to The Professor’s clinic didn’t elicit a response until late afternoon. No, HCG wasn’t done(!); scans put off, but meeting to determine a ‘management plan’ organised for first week in Jan.
So, a big FUCKING SOD YOU to 2010 (is that grammatical? I don’t swear much), roll on 2011.
Lastly, but most importantly, thank you all so much for you kind words, support and anger at the universe in general.