The catch-up post.

Item – I can’t count. When I wrote this post, I thought I was writing my 664th post, when actually I was writing my 665th. I am innumerate. The content notes on my dashboard page even said 664. How do you add 1 to 664 and come up with… 664? How? How?

Item – I very nearly didn’t bother with this, because, I reasoned, how much of a ‘devoted fan’ (i.e. sociopathic anal retentive) would anyone have to be to go back to the beginning of the blog, count every single post, and pop back up to tell me I’d got it wrong and the 666th post was actually my 667th? And then I realised I was that sociopathic anal retentive, because I would know the numbering was wrong, and it indeed it would bug the living crikey out of me. After all, I dedicate my working life to making sure things are in the correct order. So what I have done, is place a holder post at position 666, and I will return and fill it in correctly tomorrow when I have given everyone a chance to ask their questions, and then post 668 will merely be a ‘hi! Post 666 is ready for you now!’ reminder with link, so people with subscriptions and rss feeds don’t miss the full glory that will be my Gentle Readers’ cunning, ingenuity, wit, charm, kindness and sheer nosiness. Don’t let me down, sweethearts.

Item – Anyway – anaemia. Basically, since the end of my last, sucktastic, period, I’ve been very tired, often pale, very sleepy, and afflicted with the most bastard-son-of-a-bastard’s-bastard-bastard restless legs. Mostly in the evenings, when sitting in the armchair to watch TV or read or pootle about on the internets, and, worse, when I go to bed. Some nights I am thrashing about like a pike on a fishing gaff as my calves knot and throb. It’s like being electrocuted. Not exactly painful, but unbearably uncomfortable. And, you know, it’s a well-know symptom strongly indicative of anaemia. I didn’t care for this development at all, and neither did H.

Item – So I went to the GP, partly because I needed to renew my painkiller prescriptions, partly to whine about the throwing up, the being in pain for a couple of weeks after a period has ended, and the gastric symptoms, also, is it endometriosis now, do you think? And partly to mention the anaemia thing. I am blessed in my GPs. Look away now if yours sucks. Our GP surgery is only a few minutes walk away, you can usually get a same-day appointment, and with the exception of one locum I haven’t seen since who told me to go away and ‘try on our own’ for a year when I first came off the pill in 2005 (silly bitch. Silly me for paying her a blind bit of attention), they have all been caring, concerned, interested, and sensible. This time I got the very sweet lady GP, who first prescribed the glorious butt-pills. She decided I had better try an anti-emetic, so there’s that for next time. She agreed I did sound pretty anaemic, and gave me a form for a blood-test. And she agreed it did sound horribly like endo, but I would need to discuss this with Miss Consultant, as Miss Consultant would be who I’d be referred to anyway, as she heads the clinic in my area for things like endometriosis as well as infertility. The GP also warned me that they’d be reluctant to do surgery again, as it can encourage scar-tissue and adhesion-formation and make things worse rather than better. This made me feel quite hopeless. But she may well have a point, as after all my periods, after a brief improvement, did become much worse rather than better after the surgery Miss Consultant did four years ago. However, my main worry with endo is that it might be interfering with Satsuma or the One-and-Only Fallopian Tube. Perhaps I shall have to demand an ultrasound and yet another HSG first. Perhaps I should just get the bloody Mirena coil put in and be done with it. Arse. Fuck. Shit. Bugger.

Item – Luckily the phlebotomy clinic was still going when I left the GP’s consulting room, so I could join the queue and get my blood taken that same morning. As I sat waiting, I noticed that all the women leaving the nurses’ room were… a tad pink and giggly, perhaps? How odd. And then my number was called, and I was ushered into the presence of… Oh. My. God. One of the cutest young men I had seen in years. (And so young. I have never felt so leathery in my life). And not only was he adorable to the eye, he was charming as well. And yes, I just grinned inanely at him, and failed to say anything witty at all, and barely noticed him sticking the needle in, and grinned inanely at him again while he labled my phials (complete blood count, serum iron levels), and then wandered back through the waiting room, you’ve got it, grinning inanely and no doubt pink-cheeked and bright-eyed.

Item – Because, good Lord, that phlebotomy nurse was cute. Whoa.

Item – H and I have since taken a few days off work, given that we’ve both got leave to use up before the end of the summer. We stayed at home, but we’ve eaten out every night, gone to the cinema, gone to museums, spent one day Totally In Pyjamas, done some shopping, had lie-ins and cakes, had fancy brunches. It’s been lovely. And we discovered a rather jolly new restaurant just down the road, where the staff are even more delightful than the food. Best of all, we’ve had time to have long, involved, intelligent conversations that were, crucially, not about savings, fertility treatment, ovulation, Dead Babies, or impending unemployment.

Item – Speaking of which, H has an interview next week. Yay for H!

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12 responses to “The catch-up post.

  • Valery Valentina

    Glad you keep track of the numbers. Yay for GP, Yay for interview.
    When my mother was preparing for a hip operation she was prescribed epo. Mam, worried “but isn’t that an illegal drug?” Doctor “well, you’d have to cancel your Tour de France indeed, but we hope it helps against post-op anaemia”
    OK, I wiki’d up anti-emetic and there is a list. A LIST. Including Cannabis.
    Can’t wait for updates.
    Will not let you down any time soon!
    šŸ˜‰

  • twangy

    “cunning, ingenuity, wit, charm, kindness”. Gah, where am I going to get one of those?

    Will have to Apply Myself.

    I am happy to hear about the nice GP, (though not about the off-putting news about a possible lap, of course) and indeed about the nurse. Funny how one can be reduced to flutters, involuntarily. There was only of those very beautiful people on the comics camp and, honestly, I really had difficulty talking to him, his looks were just so.. distracting.

  • Betty M

    Crap. Comment eaten by computer. Nutshell version – had no idea restless legs = anaemia. Is the answer litres of Floradix or something more scientific. And I need your blood person!

  • a

    How funny that you would actually go back and count your posts!

    Your GP does sound nice, if somewhat depressing with their answers. Sigh – if only the easy solutions that we know would help didn’t come with unexpected side effects.

    Every bloodletting office should have a hot phlebotomist!

  • Cathy

    Was wondering about endo – especially your bladder symptoms (Didn’t want to mention it before as diagnosis by internet stalker not always helpful).
    Hope all is well in your part of London and that sanity soon prevails.
    For my question – how do you meet H? I know you were you young but don’t recall if you’ve told us how you met

  • Wombattwo

    Ho hum… a mixed bag I suppose. I’m glad that your GP took you seriously and also that she gave you some anti-emetics. I hope she gave you some good ones. I like the ones that dissolve in your mouth, so you don’t even have to bother swallowing them and risk puking them up again myself.
    I think endometriosis is a difficult one: in that while surgery does (can) cause adhesions and scar tissue formation, so can untreated endometriosis by virtue of the whole bleeding thing. As you know. Having said that I wouldn’t have thought a laparoscopy (if they don’t do much actual *treatment*) would cause much in the way of adhesion-formation. And then you’d KNOW. I guess you just have to have an in-depth conversation with Miss Consultant about it and see what she says, and what she thinks is the best way forward. And let me know when that is, as my hammer is all packed and ready to go and I’ve been practising my best menacing look…
    Glad you had a cute phlebotomist (oh dear, the word cute makes me feel so old!) and glad you’ve had some time off with H. Nice to not talk about babies and infertility, isn’t it? Mmm, brunch…
    Good luck H!!

  • twangy

    I have gone, I have thought.

    I like the question about meeting H.

    Also:
    What piece of music is your anthem/the one desert island disc that you would rush to save?
    Or:
    What is your one luxury, if you could only have one?
    Or:
    Your first memory?

    I have more but after all, I presume you’ll be needing to do other things at some point. Heh.
    Stay safe.

  • Korechronicles

    Double yay for H. And lots of good interview vibes as well…hope they survive the planet crossing. And a hot needle vampire would be mightily appreciated on my regular visits where most of the blood-letters look like close relatives of Nurse Ratchet.

    I, too, would like more info on how you and H met. So consider that added to my collection of nosiness as well.

    And, will you come and visit us one day?

  • Womb For Improvement

    Is the hot phlebotomist some kind of Twilight/ Robert Pattinson reference?

    (Do you see how down with the kidz I am? Regardless that I had to google to find out who that actor was).

    • May

      Nope. I’m not a fan of the Twilight ‘thing’ (I prefer my vampires with personality, also vampirism). The male nurse stabby-with-needle person was actually, genuinely, startlingly hot.

  • Hairy Farmer Family

    Oh, well done, H! And mega-hurrah for a few days being… well, just being. That is seriously important usage of time, and I am cross that your neighbourhood can’t bloody well pipe down a bit and let you relax properly.

    Your GPs seem well up to par; I think, with the exception of the odd asshole floating about, British GPs are Da Business, and are a good broad-brush solution for nearly everyone. Fertility medicine, on the other hand, is a Dark Art, and I think repro Consultants fluctuate considerably in their specific usefulness to an individual patient, depending on their interests and personality… well, let’s call ’em …quirks. It doesn’t much matter if you have a Consultant Radiographer who has a pet theory: you’re still going to get a good picture. Infertility, not so much. Still, I appear to have drifted off topic, as usual.

    I love your pernicktyness. I haz it! I have also had those twitchy legs fairly often, now I sit and THINK about it, but didn’t realise it was a symptom of anything: I am remarkably slow on the uptake making connections like that. You NOTICE stuff, lady detective. I am reading lots of Georgette Heyer currently, and I am suddenly inspired to write copycat romantic whodunnits with you as my beauteous sleuth!

    And I am usually stabbed in the vein by women with bigger, homelier bosoms than I, worse luck.

  • Katie

    Best of luck with the interview!

    Are you sure the phlebotomy nurse wasn’t gay? I’ve encountered a couple of very cute but rather camp vampires…

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