Anyway, we emailed Dr George, very politely, to ask: ‘What’chu talkin’ ’bout, Willis?’ (see previous post). It being the weekend, we are trying not to think about it very much, as there is just right now no point in doing so *glares angrily into the middle distance*.
Meanwhile, Dr George sent me a metformin prescription (fair enough, but the NHS has that bit covered, for rather less money, so hah!) suggesting I take 1000mg a day. My GP has me on 1500mg, and I can tell you, I would much rather take the smaller dose, as I Do Not Like This Pill, Jill I’m Ill.
When I first started taking metformin at the end olf last summer, I managed to move up to the ‘full’ dose of 1500mg without any major or prolonged intestinal unpleasantness (just a bit gassy and thirsty and hungry all the time and there were one or two gutsplosions caused by Unwise Cake). I also, however, ovulated very late that first month, then developed a luteal phase of barely 11 days for several months in a row. And I put on seven pounds or more. Yes, I said put on.
After Christmas, H and I were having The Bad Marital Phase, and I just stopped taking the stupid drug as it all seemed pointless (mind you, everything seemed pointless for a little while there) and I was really quite unwell for several months in a row. However, I lost seven pounds in a few weeks, and then almost certainly got pregnant again off one (one! Unum! ONE) somewhat poorly-timed make-up sex session, (and of course miscarried again within a few days, because that’s how I roll). It’s hard to tell what is what from all that vast swamp of suckage, but my guts seemed more cheerful and excluding fucking bastard shitweasel chemical pregnancies, my luteal phase got longer.
And now I’m back on metformin again and I have a) put on four pounds in four weeks, b) am Queen of Gas and alternating constipation and, err, looseness, c) I feel faint and often ravenous, and d), really unnervingly, the whites of my eyes turned a little yellow at the outer edges (H noticed this, not me). I am seriously concerned that I should not be taking this drug. At all.
Um. I need to email Dr George again, and see my GP. Right? Right.
Fuck’s sake. Will nothing go smoothly? I’m quite sure I didn’t open a fried fish takeaway shop on the site of the ruined temple to Dagon the Squamous.