Item – Work has been rather a time-suck. Several people are off ill, a few more are on leave, and then a colleague was carted away in an ambulance, which was such fun (I have never run up and down the stairs so fast so many times before. I even ran in the library, which is sacrilege. Said colleague had damn well get better, is all). What with all the drama and absence, it has fallen upon us the noble remnants to keep the place from disintegrating into chaos, and this is both stressful and timeconsuming.
Item – I don’t know what my insides are up to, but they hurt a lot. At a guess, what with it being Bonfire Night, Satsuma and the Cute Ute got carried away and smuggled in a Catherine Wheel.
Item – I am coming down with another cold. At least, I hope it’s only a cold. I’ve been alternating between shivery and sweaty for days, and my head is almost permanently achy. And H is coming down with the exact same thing, and we moan and bitch at each other and make each other tea and toast.
Item – H has an unpleasant infection of, of all places, the nasal cavity. He has taken to having nosebleeds several times a week. I find this a tiresome and messy habit, especially when they start in the middle of the night. Ugh, more blood-stained sheets, and towels, and carpets, though I suppose it’s an interesting change that the blood is his instead of mine for once. He had been previously given an antibiotic cream to stick up his nose for ten days, so he did, and then the nosebleeds came back, so he went to the GP again, who said no no no no no, the cream needs to be used for six weeks.
Item – So, you know, I live with a sniffing, bad-tempered, blood-streaked-mustache chap who snorts white stuff up his nose four times a day, and every bin in the house contains a little hellish heap of blood-and-snot encrusted tissues and Q-tips. Seriously tempted to tweet or facebook that last sentence. Heh heh heh heh. No.
Item – So we have not been having sex either. This cycle is pants.
Item – I am so, so, sick of infertility. So sick of my stupid insides. So sick of charting and waiting and checking and hoping and ugh. Ugh ugh ugh. Don’t want to talk about it or think about it.
Item – As for the rescheduling thing, I’ve temporarily given up trying to get a nurse to call me back. I thought, what do most women who don’t frantically chart everything do, when they get caught by surprise menstruation? They call the hospital and cancel, is what they do. They do not try to discuss what to do IF their period starts with a nurse, weeks before hand, when the answer is, well, we’ll reschedule. We don’t know when. When we’ve got a space freed up by another woman cancelling her operation because her period started.
Item – It’s very hard to care, anyway. Because, like I said, I have had enough of this shit. I’ve had so much of enough I find it hard to drag the energy to be the Squeaky Wheel out of my Give-A-Fuck-Haversack. I am going to have a large glass of wine and go to bed early, so the Four Horsemen of The Workapocalypse, Tetchy, Entitled, Confused, and Just Plain Wrong, have a nice fresh May to trample into the nylon carpet tomorrow.