And this is not my life

After some thought, and the odd freak-out, and the perfectly normal freak-out thank you, and the supplementary eccentric freak-out, I realised the only way for Mays to deal with This Sort Of Thing is to adopt the Way of the Ox. And therefore May put her head down, no, further down than that even, hunched her shoulders, buckled on the harness, and ploughed onwards, focusing on exactly one goal at a time, thinking ahead or trying to plan strictly Verboten.

Things achieved thereby:

Item – On Monday, I [oh, we’re back in first person now are we?] called the GP’s nurse repeatedly, left several messages, and eventually spoke to an actual human who booked me in for a cervical smear the very next day. (Then there was the Massive Awkward of getting the time off work at the last moment, and rearranging the rest of my work schedule so I could do a full afternoon and therefore not screw with my sick-leave allowance or my leave-leave allowance).

Item – On Tuesday, I went to said appointment, and asked the very pleasant nurse about chlamydia screening and rubella immunity testing. I hastened to explain this was about IVF and not about me being a bit worried by my sexual history, and she cheerfully said she could do the chlamydia swab while she was, err, ‘up there’. As for Rubella Immunity, I’d have to make an appointment with my GP and arrange it through him. And then I took my knickers off and she very gently and competently winched me open and scraped about in the upper regions of my personals. The last high vaginal swab I had, courtesy of Dr Expensive, hurt like a mo-fo (and after all that, didn’t include a chlamydia test after all FOR FUCK’S SAKE, or if it did, we never got the results of it (another reason why we gave up on Dr Expensive – the saying one thing and doing another. So wearing (incidentally, I FED-EXED MY MENSTRUAL BLOOD TO GREECE. WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED TO THAT LOT, EH?))), so this made a very nice change.

Item – I then tried to make an appointment to see my GP and there weren’t any appointments for any time that was convenient for me, and I thought, oh, for the sake of fuck, and we called Riverside Clinic and asked if we could, you know, just turn up to the drop-in clinic to get the blood-tests done and they said ‘yes of course!’ and I said ‘oh gosh, really? It’s that simple?’ and they said ‘yes of course!’.

Item – So on Wednesday morning I dropped in at the Riverside and they said oh, hello, please wait in the waiting room, and within ten minutes a nurse collected me, checked with me what tests I needed (Rubella Immunity, AMH, HIV, Hepatitis panel, full blood count (I have a recent thyroid panel, which proved my thyroid to be, bewilderingly, in stellar order)), and delicately sunk a needle into my left arm. Didn’t hurt a bit, didn’t even bruise.

Item – Next step, menstruate. Period due yesterday (my birthday) or today. It didn’t turn up yesterday in the end, which was considerate, so I am sitting here typing, full to the gunwales with painkillers, waiting for the Red Flag to signal the ‘and they’re off!’ any second now.

Item – Hopefully all results will be safely gathered in before I start the ‘nasal spray’. I still don’t know if it’ll be synarel or buserelin, because Dr George is not back at his desk until Tuesday, and then he will sort out the prescription for us (incidentally, this man answers his emails at once. Oh, my God). And then, I start the spray on ‘day 21’. I need to check whether he means day 21 as in around about when I ovulate, or ‘day 21’ as in one week after normal ovulation for normal people, which will probably be day 28ish for me on past performance.

Item – And now H has to go and get his HIV/Hep panel done, which he is planning on doing next week, depending on his work schedule.

Item – Nope, not looking further ahead than that. Not right now. Head down! Stare at own hooves! Ploughing onwards!


13 responses to “And this is not my life

  • bionicbrooklynite

    Gee! Gee!

    (That’s a hard G, for the record.)

  • Hairy Farmer Family

    Hooves are good. Pretty hooves. Plod plod plod.

  • Sheila

    Belated happy birthday!

  • Betty M

    Happy Birthday!

  • a

    Happy Birthday! And…um…Happy (?) Shark Week.

    No point in looking forward. Putting your head down gives you better ability to move that load forward. 🙂 Have you at least painted your hooves a pretty color?

  • Mina

    Loads to deal with, May, since I last came here. Heavy, but with great potential for happy. Until the happy, it’s the heavy you are to sort out, I see.
    Happy birthday, dear! Put the horse glasses on (are they called blinkers?! Can’t remember) and carry on treading.

  • QoB

    I do appreciate someone who can do a good winching-open (had two recently, bless their lovely nursing skills).
    and yay, ploughing!


  • Womb For Improvement

    Well delighted that your birthday wasn’t obliterated by the start of shark week. I suspect they’ll say start on day 21 regardless of when you normally ovulate as they tend to monitor where you are anyway and extend or reduce the duration of drugs depending on what your body is doing. But, you know, check with the Doctor anyway!!

    Best of British.

  • Chickenpig

    Day one of your cycle is the day your period starts. They normally start suppression on day 21. Normally you will have more bloodwork done on day 21 to make sure you have ovulated, and if you haven’t you go back in a few days and do it again.

    Being an ox sounds a good deal better than being a dancing circus poodle which is what I always feel like when doing a cycle. “Do this, do that, take a shot, take a pill, jump through this flaming hoop.”

  • Twangy

    Yes. I, too, have found concentrating on One Thing At A Time a very helpful strategy for survival. Fixing your eye on the horizon is for another day. I am afeared that Shark Week must be in progress – if so, I do hope you’re alright over there, you poor woman, and the sharks will just fecking feck off.

  • L.

    Head down sounds like the perfect approach. Really, I’m not sure how much is to be gained for any of us by looking forwards or backwards more than necessary (but of course we do it anyway, because we’re human).

    Anyway, it’s spring, but I will try to avoid any metaphors about sprouting or ploughing and just continue to wish you the very best luck–you’re owed it IMO.

%d bloggers like this: