Item – I’m probably in a grouch-tastical mood because I’ve been in pain for four days and I am now, officially, Tired and Emotional, without the benefit of a good stiff belter of G&T into the bargain.
Item – I missed work today, and this was Very Wise, because I have had several infuriating soak-through-everything-in-lavish-gush moments, and I’ve been weaning myself off the diclofenac suppositories onto mefenamic acid by mouth again, and ended up with bad cramps.
Item – I can’t bear to take the diclofenac up-the-jacksie for more than three days in a row. It’s uncomfortable, damn it. It makes me sore. Not the act of shoving things up there in the first place – I use a great deal of KY Jelly (only use the tube seems to get in our household, eheu, gone are the days, etc.) and I do have slender fingers (OK, that’s TMI right there) – but diclofenac is a NSAID, and like most NSAIDs it is an acid – dichloranilino phenylacetic acid to be precise, and delicate mucous membranes + regular applications of acid = ow. Oh, come on, why do you think NSAIDs by mouth give you heartburn, gastric bleeds, and if you’re bloody lucky, ulcers? Exactly. Anyway. It gets sore, the cramps are less intense, so day four and five of my period, I take mefenamic acid by mouth instead, which works fairly well, especially when combined with tramadol, and I taper that down to paracetamol on day 5, and sometimes all my clever planning is pointless and I hurt. When I remember how much I used to hurt, this time last year, say, I feel happier about matters, admittedly.
Item – Any of you who have used progesterone pessaries during IVF cycles etc., will know that if you put things made of waxy grease inside your person, front or back, they melt, as they are designed to do, with body heat, and once the medication is absorbed, there is this, err, well, residue? Anyway, I dare not fart unless I am sitting on the toilet. Another very good and important reason to have spent at least 24-hours leaving my back passage unviolated before going back to work. Bet you all wanted to know that. Sure you did. Don’t look at me like that. This is The Human Condition. It’s practically Art.
Item – Enough of this bottom talk.
Item – I finally received the Official Letter from the Mothership Hospital regarding my laparoscopy in November. Progress!
Item – Did I mention the surgery coincides with arseholish precision with H’s birthday? Bah.
Item – Even more arseholery – given Satsuma’s current production schedule, the one she has kept up for over a year – I should still have my period on the day I’m supposed to be being sliced-and-diced. Given that my periods are a) heavy and b) require my taking shit-loads (no, wait. Ill-chosen term, considering the above. Let’s pretend I wrote shed-loads) of painkillers, NSAID and narcotic, can anyone tell me if either of these things will be a problem?
Item – H, bless him, is more worried about the painkillers. What if I can’t take them? What if I do take them and then they can’t do a general anaesthetic and it’s all cancelled? I told him I’d just not take them if that’s what they recommended and he blenched with horror.
Item – I am more worried that if I am bleeding heavily, they won’t do the surgery. Or, they’ll do the lap part but won’t do the hysteroscopy or check my fallopian tube for obstructions by flushing dye through it. Which will, to my mind, make the surgery about 70% a WASTE OF MY FUCKING TIME. Let me explain. I know I have adenomyosis. It is not operable. If I have endo and it is operable, yay!, but it won’t fix my pain issues to have it removed. It may, however, improve my chances of getting pregnant and staying pregnant, so bring it on. However, my main fear, especially given that I haven’t been pregnant since February (unless I was in July, you know, when I had the 14-day-luteal phase May stop this train of thought RIGHT HERE. Thank you) – where was I? Oh, yes. I am afeared that I can’t get pregnant because the endometriosis or the fibroids or, fuck it, both, have blocked my fallopian tube. Or, the fibroids and/or adenomyosis have finally borked my uterine lining good and proper. So I need, need I tell you, to have the surgeon have a good look at the uterine cavity and check the tube. If these things can’t happen, I will pitch a fit the like of which will burn a hole straight though the atmosphere and incinerate the Moon.
Item – Another thing I therefore did today – call the Mothership Hospital to ask advice. I left a message. I left a second message. I talked to a human who said a nurse would call me back. ‘When?’ I asked. ‘Later today,’ she lied. Hmph. Guess what I’m going to be doing again tomorrow, from work this time, with added awkward?