On Tuesday (Tuesday oh my God), the results of my smear (PAP to you) test arrived in the post. Within a week. The NHS has its glorious moments of win, bless the NHS and all who sail in her. They realised, I am given to understand, that long waits for results were freaking women out, and decided to quit that shit, at least in my area.
And my cervix is nice and clean and healthy. Go cervix!
The chlamydia results will take another week or so to turn up, so, meanwhile, onwards.
On Thursday, H took my ‘hi! May’s cervix is A-OK!’ letter with him to Riverside Clinic to be added to my file, and while he was there, get stabbled for HIV/Hepatitis himself. It was a bore, bless him, as traffic made him late, and then while he was being stabbled (which hurt, poor lamb. Same nurse didn’t hurt me at all. On the other hand, it didn’t bruise, and he usually bruises like stink (‘usually’. Hah. And then H stopped himself mid-pity-party when he saw my Eyebrow of Seriously, Dude, Wanna See My Scars?)), another nurse came out to talk to him about my prescription and he wasn’t there (being stabbled in tiny room down corridor), so he had to wait for said other nurse to cycle back round to him, just to tell him my prescription wasn’t actually ready yet, could he come back tomorrow? And then he rushed off to work, later than ever, and peeved.
So I went to get my ‘nasal spray’ (Me: H, dear, did they say which nasal spray? H: Ummm….) on Friday after work, and basically paid Riverside the equivalent of Anniversary Dinner at Expensive Michelin-Star Restaurant With Mucho Booze for Two Hungry Hippos for two tiny weeny bottles of Buserelin.
The fuck is this stuff, anyway? Is it hand-dabbed from the eyes of wild snow-leopard kittens by child-priestesses using kerchiefs of gold thread?
Next step for Little Ox May (who has new scarlet Converse hi-tops on her hooves to stare at as she ploughs on) is to double check whether by ‘day 21’ Dr George meant ‘Day 21 regardless of where you are in your cycle’, ‘Day 21 as in one week after you ovulate, so probably Day 28 for you and your lazy (but weirdly regular) ovary’, or ‘Day 21 as in the day you normally ovulate or shortly thereafter’. In the first case, we’re fine. In the second or third, I shall no doubt fret Satsuma into a bout of performance anxiety and There Will Be Extra Ultrasounds.
The point being, Dr George thinks my endometriosis-raddled pelvis could do with a tad extra suppression, so I am taking 300 mcg of the stuff three times a day (one squirt per nostril, ie two squirts,) which seems a little more than the instructions on the leaflet for infertility treatment, but is the dose for endometriosis treatment. And he did say something about a slightly longer suppression, and he is, I think, aware I ovulate lateish, but I am so used to doctors failing utterly to remember I have PCOS/RPL/one ovary/whateverthefuck that I NEED TO BE ABSOLUTELY SURE WE ALL KNOW WHAT WE ARE DOING AND AM NOT FEELING VERY TRUSTING.
(Speaking of endo-raddled pelvises, I now know exactly, in horrific detail, where the Pouch of Douglas is and which parts of the lower bowel run alongside it from which angle and in what direction. Which was knowledge I was happy to acquire by pretty much any other means, actually).
So. Buserelin acetate. Gentle Readers, so many of you have done this already. Would you be so very kind as to tell me what I can expect, and what to worry about, and what to put up with, with this interesting and irritatingly expensive drug?