Seasonal bargain assortment of broken biscuits

Item – So, Gentle Readers, here’s a question for you all. I have been trying, lately, from time to time, to reply to the comments you so thoughtfully leave me. And, err, should I? Do you come back and read these? Do you like that I comment on your comments? Do you find it interesting/amusing/worrying/tiresome [delete as applicable]? Or are you completely indifferent? Do you never read the comments anyway (you should, you know. My commentators are fabulous).

Item – I peed on a stick this morning (11dpo), and it is demurely negative. This concords with my inner Spidey sense, which tells me I am as pregnant as a brick. Heigh ho.

Item – Everything is wrapped and labelled and in boxes. We seem to have several boxes of chocolate left over. Ohh, what a shame.

Item – I have put on three pounds in the last two days. Put. ON. three pounds. It soothes my soul to blame this all on hormonal water-retention, as I usually put on anywhere between two and five pounds the week before my period starts, but still, AUGH. In the interests of Truth In Reporting, I have updated my ticker. In said interests I should also report I have done this so I can feel undeservedly smug when it has all come off again by New Year (post menstrual deflate and nauseated three-day starvation diet). And then I will eat the left-over chocolate.

Item – I am aware this blog, in the last year, has morphed from an infertility/RPL blog to a ‘Just how much do May’s periods suck, eh?’ blog. Sorry about that. The thing is, they really do suck so much. (If we go to the In-Laws together after the first couple of days are over, I will, by the way, TOTALLY be taking the wet-wipes and baggies to deal with the Unsavory Hands/no sink or bin in lavvie Issue. Genius idea. Why didn’t I think of it?) But the amount the first two or three days of my period suck, is not compatible with visiting family at all. At all. It’s not just a case of me being tired and in pain and tetchy, which would be manageable. After all, I am in that state from day 5 of my cycle until I ovulate. Yes, I am serious. Pain. Every single day. Until I ovulate. Endo/adeno is Not For Wusses (and alas, I am a wuss). The pain on the three Bad days can be so severe I can’t speak clearly, am dizzy, vomit repeatedly, cannot stand up without feeling in imminent danger of fainting (I have been known, at least once a cycle, to crawl to the bathroom on hands and knees, as standing up is so difficult), I cry uncontrollably, I sometimes moan or cry out, especially when trying to fart (don’t laugh. You have no idea). The drugs I have been given do, so far [frantic hunt for wood to touch] get the pain levels down to a six or seven on the Manksoski pain scale, heck, some cycles they’ve got it all the way down to 4 or 5, which feels like being lifted to Heaven on the shoulders of 14 strapping angels who all look like Johnny Depp, but I still throw up for the entirety of the 2nd day, and I still can’t eat, and when the drugs work well they make me very sleepy and somewhat drunk-acting, and I can’t wear ordinary clothes because the pressure of waistbands is excruciating, and I can’t walk anywhere at more than a shuffle, bent over, and I have to go change my san-pro every hour or two, and I can’t use tampons for the first three days either, because inserting one feels like I am stabbing myself through the back of the vagina with a red-hot halberd (I guess that’s the endo in the Pouch of Douglas).

Item – OK, that all, written down, fills me with horrified pity for the poor cow who… oh, it’s me. Arse. Anyway, the point is, the actual point is, I don’t want to go through that in my In-Laws’ tiny house surrounded by MIL and FIL (also recovering from surgery, ohhh, this things come not in single spies but in battalions), and BIL, and H’s aunts and their spouses and teenage children. And I’m sure they’d all really enjoy their festive lunch to the background noises of me keening in the lavatory (you can totally hear what’s happening in the lavatory from the dining room. I get so constipated when we visit) and then crawling back up the stairs on hands and knees, grey in the face and sweating like an old cheese. It’s not the sort of suffering that can be done discreetly. We’ve all had family events where someone had to lie down on a sofa for most of it and then was quiet and would only take a weak cup of tea, and it was fine, I know. This is worse. I’m sorry, but it is.

Item – Incidentally, how in hell do those of you up here on the Menstrual Suffering Olympics podium with me who also have small children manage? How? How? Because, yeah, I am concerned that if I ever get a kid of my own…

Item – Current plan, call In-Laws on Boxing Day and explain that May has Collapsed. What we haven’t decided, is whether H will go down to see the In-Laws without me, or whether he will stay with me and we’ll both go down a couple of days later. H, bless him, favours the latter, as he wants to look after me. But what with all the hospitalised people and unwellness in his own family, he may be needed there more urgently.

Item – Abrupt change of subject! Because we were all getting rather depressed!

Item – Finally and most importantly, I want to wish all my readers, regular, casual, occasional, baffled-because-Google-led-them-here, or any combination thereof, an extremely happy, peaceful, stress-free holiday season, and a 2012 of perfect fulfillment, glorious joy, wonder, excitement and granted wishes.

And for those of us who just feel Christmas is a bit shit this year, I’ve been listening to this song on loop for a month now, and getting all teary-eyed and empathetic.

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36 responses to “Seasonal bargain assortment of broken biscuits

  • H

    Merry Christmas to you all from me too 🙂 Thank you for all your support over the last year. I know I don’t comment much, but I read it all and appreciate it more than you possibly imagine! x

  • Anonymous

    Oh, yes, that plan sounds good. I was worried. It’s QUITE BAD ENOUGH to be so sick and on that kind of pain scale but at least, at the very least, be at home. The idea of roughing it, working around people, trying to do it quietly, as well, is actually frightening me. My heart-rate is going up at the thought. So yes, polite ducking of visit is best.

    I do really like it when you comment on the comments. It’s: oh, look! May is in the computer and is talking to me! but now I am realising I might have missed a few. I should do that Notify me of follow-up comments via email.

    And, finally, (yes, there is an end in sight to this rambling comment, hang in there):
    A most happy beautiful festive season filled with twinkles and magic, and all the most wonderful things for 2012.

    • May

      Plan is working weirdly. I am still (it’s the 27th as I write this) at my mother’s, drugged to the eyeballs (hence commenting), with a large bucket and every single elderly and frayed towel my mother owns tucked around me. Meanwhile, my mother is packing in the next room as she’s being whisked abroad by my step-Dad for New Year. H and I will have the run (well, H will – I’m not running anywhere) of the house for as long as we like, also leftovers. H is in hog heaven, bless him. And I have SUCH a post to update you all with.

  • twangy

    Emm. So that rpevious comment was mine! I thought WordPress had gobbled it, but no. 🙂

    • May

      WordPress is doing a lot of comment gobbling of late. Luckily, it seems to put them in the ‘pending file’ for me to fish back out again, but insists they’re ‘anonymous’. Gitface wordpress, the upgrade was NOT HELPFUL.

  • BigP's Heather

    Merry Christmas and Happy 2012!!! Best of luck with the in laws, whatever you decide to do.

  • QoB

    Personally I prefer the Hyperbold and a Half pain scale… http://hyperboleandahalf.blogspot.com/2010/02/boyfriend-doesnt-have-ebola-probably.html

    I wholeheartedly approve of your plan.

    I do like responses to comments but I’m not offended if you don’t leave them, or don’t leave them for me, or anything. Tis your blog, after all:)

  • a

    Clicking through the link – I totally agree with QoB. That is a much more accurate pain scale! Well, the other one works for me – I’m not that sensitive – but Hyperbole and a Half is much more amusing.

    Glad to hear you’ve got a plan for the holidays that doesn’t involve retching all over the in-laws’ house.

    I like your responses – sometimes I even come back to read them! 😉

    • May

      “I am actively being mauled by a bear” – bwahahahahahahaha quite. Exactly. Perfect. The Mankoski, however, is very useful for showing to GPs, so you can point and say firmly “8. Sometimes 9. GIVE ME DRUGS”.

      (Feeling 6ish now. Is good).

      Glad you like the responses. Am flattered.

  • a

    Just came back from last post… I think pictures of H in his elf suit with tinsel in his hair should be next year’s Christmas card.

  • katyboo1

    Like the others, it is lovely when you reply. Fine when you don’t. I don’t think you should feel you have to. You have enough things in life you feel you have to do.

    As for the whole how do you cope with pain etc if you have kids ummm. I don’t always have pain that slays me like you do. Some months it’s quite manageable, others not so manageable. What I have found, and I hope that you will too, is that your children love you no matter what state you are in. They are also remarkably flexible at things like not having regular baths, eating regular meals etc every now and again. When they are very small they don’t need much and you will manage and you will have help from those who love you for when you don’t. When I couldn’t function on Friday, the children helped me and helped look after me, and were brilliant. They are amazing, and I know that when (I refuse to be downhearted about this, so am saying when not if) yours finally come along, they will be amazing too.

    Wishing you and H all the best for Christmas and the New Year. Do what works for you. Don’t worry about everyone else. xxx

    • May

      Bless your kids for helping out and bringing you tea and cleaning the house for you. That was SO sweet. Your kids are darlings. Hilarious, and darlings.

      Hugs and Happy New Year to you too.

  • Anonymous

    “inserting one feels like I am stabbing myself through the back of the vagina with a red-hot halberd” – YES! Oh, God, that I could have your way with words. That, THAT, is EXACTLY what it shitting well feels like. They didn’t visualise my P of D during lap, which is a pity, because that is where 90% of my pain originates from, and I GET the tampon thing, which is Just As You Say, except that my pelvic floor has dropped so much it’s like trying to push it round a bloody S-bend. And the farts… yes. Dear God, the farts. Farts make me CRY. QoB (whom I owe effusive thanks to, as I have crawled into bed with James Cobham this last few days, and very nice it was too!) is bang on the money about Hyperbole’s magnificent pain scale. I printed it out for my anaesthetist friend & forgot to hand over: I am reminded!

    My love, my dear, my suffering sweet. You are the only lady I know with Worse Period Pain Than I. I am not a vomit-while-cramping-type, and my pain does not invariably max out the scale. Every few months, yes, but not EVERY month. When I am absolutely debilitated, then family usually weighs in to help; if I wasn’t TTC, I would be on the pill, and suffering a very great deal less. I have no advice for you, but a very great deal of sympathy and most fervent wishes for Improvement.

    Ahh, it’s Christmas. January is the time for tickers. Let’s press Pause, hmmm? Quite HOW you are expected to be Christmassy with armageddon happening in your festive undies, I ain’t quite sure, but I do wish you every (liquid?) ounce of Christmas cheer that I can bestow at a distance. Unsure how to advise on Christmas procedure in re: in laws. That is simply not a good state to be in in your OWN house and bathroom, let alone as a guest in anothers, let alone one’s in-laws, before whom one generally wishes to retain a modicum of decorum. I have vivid memories of, during last miscarriage, being carted out of the house to A&E, past BOTH of my in-laws, who had been summonsed to Harry-sit. Blood-stained pyjamas, groaning intermittently (in my defence, I WAS having full-blown labour cramps, which have a tendency to take the legs from underneath you) & Not Awfully Groomed. Looking good, Billy Ray! You, my poor bludgeoned soul, (I am MADE of horrified pity, because I can oh-so-clearly imagine your feelings) suffer like this All The Goddamned Time. I would counsel Home With Husband, if H’s (also sadly battered by sounds of it) family can possibly manage without…?

    I adore comment replies, but hardly ever get around to making them myself unless I am sat there when they arrive, so I Officially Cannot Talk.

    Merry Christmas sweetheart. Truly.

    • May

      And a happy New Year to you.

      It’s the TTC, isn’t it? If I weren’t TTC, the haste with which I’d be down the gynae office DEMANDING a motherfucking Mirena coil up there RIGHT NOW THIS SECOND would possibly get me arrested. Plan, for when I give up – get coil. Book month off work in case it makes me bleed non-stop and feel grim while it, err, ‘settles in’. Pray. If after three months, no improvement, have sodding uterus removed, if I have to go private to do it. BUT, first I have to give up TTC. Oh God, it’s like the ultimate game of Chicken.

      I am coming round to the point of view that being carted bleeding and groaning past in-Laws is, in a way, a good thing, given that bleeding and groaning had to happen (arse fuck shit bollocks that it had to happen. SHIT SHIT SHIT). Message to family members: ‘See ambulance and paramedics? WE ARE NOT MESSING ABOUT HERE. So behave.’

      Anyway, this Christmas my uterus became Public Property in a massive circumstance-induced TMI share, and now everyone thinks I am a martyred angel, which is actually quite pleasing. But see next post, when I get around to writing it. Am a tad stoned.

    • QoB

      Ah the good Mr Cobham. Must reacquaint myself with him over the holidays…

  • Anonymous

    The reason I am having to leave anonymous comments is that WordPress and my new PC are fighting like cats in a FUCKING sack, and I can’t log in. Can’t. Log. In. The button disappears when I hover over it. I feel as if I am being Mocked. Bah!

  • Jenny F. Scientist, PhD

    I do come back and read, but surely you don’t have time to respond to everyone!

    (Also, I am, to quote others, a fertile whore, so I’m not sure my opinion counts.)

    I don’t have Menstrual Suffering Olympics but I did recently have two root canals and an ice-pick headache for a month (it was rather depressing), plus a bazillion weeks of crushing nausea, and the small child watched a lot of movies and… I read him books while I lay on the couch with a hot pack on my head. He’s still in one piece and largely undamaged.

    Peace and joy to both of you as well.

    • May

      Fertile whores and their opinions are very welcome here. It’s SMUG fertile whores who say things like ‘just relax!’ and ‘it wasn’t like it was a real baby, anyway’ while holding their newest to their breast that are NOT welcome. I’m very pleased to see you commenting. I like your blog. I should go comment on it, shouldn’t I?

      OMG root-canals. You too may have a Suffering Olympics medal. Anything to do with teeth makes me completely liquefy with panic. Glad the small child survived his televisual extravaganza in one piece. I hope the same can be said for his mother (Headache for a MONTH. And nausea? UGH).

      • Jenny F. Scientist, PhD

        Thank you. 🙂 I do my best to not be smug; biologists should know better than anyone that fertility is a roll of the genetic and situational dice and largely unrelated to… anything but luck.

        (The nausea was baby-related, but really, nausea should NEVER last 30 weeks for any cause whatsoever. And the root canals had a merciful amount of narcotics attached.)

  • manapan

    I hope you had a lovely Christmas and I hope 2012 treats you well!

    I come back and read when I can. And I like your comment replies so much that I’ve started trying to do them on my own blog.

    As for my comparatively mild menstrual suffering, well, Mirena. After the first two months of constant misery and bleeding, I’ve had incredibly mild periods. Like, “I can venture out of the house and it’s not a big deal if the ibuprofen wears off” mild. Also I rotate out Tatoe’s toys so that if I’m having a bad day for any reason, there’s a few “new” toys to keep his interest. Thank you, lack of object permanence!

    • May

      “Thank you, lack of object permanence!” is brilliant, and made me laugh.

      Best wishes for 2012 to you too. Nice to hear Mirena success story. TWO months to settle? Bleargh. It had BETTER work after that.

      • QoB

        That reminds me of my favourite entry from the depressingness of the Why We Broke Up project (tumblr where people post the myriad reasons they broke up with their exes):

        “You walked away, and I lack object permanence”
        – Solomon, aged 4 months.

  • Hairy Farmer Family

    Wonders what happened to her Christmas Eve comments and curses WordPress with a passion.

    • May

      WordPress decided they were anonymous, so put them in my ‘pending’ file, and I didn’t get a chance to log in until last night. Sorry, I get so much spambollocks that I’ve set my settings to let me check all first-time and anonymous posters before approving them. But deeply pissed off with wordpress for not letting you log in and making you look all stealth. WordPress! This is Ann! Stop cocking her about!

      • Hairy Farmer Family

        You may not credit this, but now, when I press ‘reply’, it TAKES THE COMMENT BOX AWAY ALTOGETHER. I have to press refresh loads before it deigns to draw the blasted box for me. WordPress censoring critics – double Bah!

  • Korechronicles

    Me, I love your comments to our comments. But, as others have said, you should not feel you have to do it. It is a wonderful treat and, in my case, creates the perfect Pavlov intermittent reward response that has me popping back to your blog to see if you have come out to chat. Also you have the best and funniest commenters who make for amusing company while I drink my morning or afternoon tea.

    I can’t provide any help with the lack of privacy at the in-laws situation as I made it a point to never leave the house when there was any possibility of Period Of Excruiating Suffering making its appearance. Since the kindest thing I can say about my cycles is that they were consistently erratic, it meant that any and all plans for social discourse at Villa Kore could be cancelled at exceedingly short notice. And generally without detailed explanation. Since, as my mother never tired of pointing out to me, period pain is all in your head. And there was no People of the Interwebs to tell me anything different.

    Only wish I could have had that Hyperbole pain chart…it’s a cracker. And please repeat after me…no woman with adeno/endo could ever be called a wuss, even when prostrate on the bathroom tiles hysterically sobbing while writhing like Salome on speed.

    And my children during these bouts in the Seventh Circle of Hell? Life Partner, once he figured out that there was little he could do for me except wait it out, tended to wait it out by taking full control of the household for the duration. Given his history as Only Child of Italian Parents and Fully Feldged Mama’s Boy, this was an utter bloody miracle. And the making of him, so there is always a silver lining.

    • May

      My commentators are the best, aren’t they? And that includes you.

      I feel quite greatful now that charting works for me so I know a good ten days in advance when I will be Not At Home To Visitors. It makes planning my so-called social-life easier to plan. Ish. It also gives me two weeks to sulk in when I realise I’m going to miss something I was looking forward to.

      Your mother’s ‘period pain is all in your head’ thing is DOING MY HEAD IN. Head being done in, there’s no room in it for period pain, so I am definitely keeping that in my pelvis. GAAAAH.

      My mother has become full of sympathy, empathy and kindness since her own ovarian torsion adventures. It’s… weird. And depresses me that the only way she got to ‘get’ severe reproductive-equipment pain was by experiencing it herself. Partly out of compassion for her and partly out of seriously? Can’t we do better in the empathy stakes than having to feel it personally? But, yeah, I’ll take it.

      Well done your Life Partner, for stepping up to the plate. I salute him. H’s parents brought H up to make himself useful and do his share of housework, bless them, so H fell into the role of Maker Of Tea very smoothly. The main issue we have is that my pain upsets H, so as well as taking on house-keeping and nursing, he has a struggle with his own misery as well.

  • H

    I saw this quote earlier today and thought it particularly apt for May and I expect quite a few other readers and commenters here:
    “Crying is not a sign of weakness. It’s a sign of having tried too hard to be strong for too long”

  • Mrsgtobe

    Hello May,

    I stumbled across your blog just before Christmas and I’ve been reading your archive and have been seeing a mirror image of myself. I’m 24 years old. I’ve had grade 4 endometriosis, endomeriomas, fibroids and adhesions since I was 12. I’ve had two laparoscopies, one laparotomy and bowel resection on my 21st birthday and I’ve tried to conceive with my husband to be for 3 years now without so much as a positive test. I take tramadol and diclofenac suppositories for my pain (which is hateful) and I’ve suffered failed clomid treatment. I’ve had decapeptyl injections to induce pseudo menopause and norethisterone for pseudo pregnancy, both of which make life uncomfortable. I know some of what you have been through intimately and just to know others are out there like me makes me feel like carrying on. I’m the only person I know with my health problems. No one else is infertile or in need of a hysterectomy. I’ve felt so alone but this blog makes me realise there are likeminded people out there who get through stuff like I do. Black humour and the odd bitter rant is my life! Don’t ever stop this blog, you don’t know how wonderful it is for me to ‘belong’ even if the circumstances are a bag of poo. Hope you feel well enough to enjoy the new year, you deserve it! Best wishes, mrsgtobe x

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