There are things I don’t really know how to deal with at the moment. No idea. At all. They pop up and my brain melts and my limbic system screams ‘HULK SMASH!’ and I have to drag myself bodily to the toilets for cold water and a talking-down:
- Those (mercifully few, for me, but dear God they’re persistent) people who trump every word out of my mouth with a yes, well, you should try that with kids! It doesn’t matter if I’ve mentioned getting up early to watch the Rugby World Cup or how ill my periods make me. You should try that with a kid! You have no idea until you’ve had a kid! It’s so much harder when you have a kid! All I can say is, ‘harder’ is not the same as ‘worse’.
- More seriously, my mother called this week, practically begging me to go down to see her after her surgery. Satsuma, efficient and productive as she now is, nevertheless has a warped sense of humour, and I will be menstruating at that point. I will be as much use to her as a soap herring in a thunderstorm. Gah. What I would also like to know is, where in Buttfuck Ohio are my two adult sisters, also my mother’s adult husband? I’d get it if she wanted to see me out of sheer love, but actually she’s scared of being on her own in the house with nobody to look after her – I know this because she told me so. Again, where in Buttfuck are my sisters and step-Dad in all this? They all live with her. I live over an hours’ journey away, I can’t drive, and I will be puketastically uselessly in need of a nurse myself, but I’m the one who has to drop everything and run. But them? They are having ‘previous commitments’, apparently. And are ‘not very good at this sort of thing’. Ohh, fuck them all. Useless twunts.
- The Two Week Wait generally. Same-old same-old symptoms (heart-burn, sore breasts, tiredness, hypersensitive sense of smell). Waiting. Uncertainty. Not much in the way of hope. Tense anticipation of being ill and in pain in a few days’ time. Oh, golly, this is making me grumpy. Grumpier, anyway. Tetchy, even.
- I have not touched coffee (or liver, or rare meat, or unpasturised cheese, etc. etc.) for over a week. I basically spend a week in a rage because 98% of me is 98% sure there’s absolutely no point in doing this whatsoever. I had a (large) piece of black chocolate on the way home yesterday evening. I was completely hyper for about three hours afterwards and talked nonstop throughout. This is what the lack of caffeine does to me.