‘Tis the season. Hi.

Gentle Readers, Season’s Greetings. How have you been? How are you all doing? Me? Oh, fine, fine. It’s a long story. Have a cup of tea. Or coffee. Or cocoa. Or wine. I don’t know what you like. I don’t know what I like. Excuse me, I shall just go and stare into a cupboard for a few minutes.

Anyway (I went for tea. I’m British) anyway, (I see you were serious when you asked how I’d been. In that case, I shall tell you. In Items. Because Items are traditional.

Item – Working from the toes up, my left leg, the one that developed the big fat DVT. How is that? Well, I had a final ultrasound scan of it, during which the sonographer kept a poker face to out-poke all poker faces. Then a week later we saw the haematology consultant (a third one. Consistency being a thing that huge NHS hospitals can’t actually do on the budgets they actually get). I had been somewhat bothered by the way my leg is still more likely to cramp, to get tired, to ache, than my right leg. It was weird and I didn’t like it, and I was somewhat concerned that despite all the walking about and trying to get fit again the stupid thing was not cooperating. And, well, of course it isn’t cooperating. Third Haematologist told me that though my popliteal vein was no longer completely blocked (yay?) the clot hadn’t completely dissolved and had now scarred over. So my left leg will get oxygen starvation if I over-do it, and will ache and swell if I stand about for too long, and is at risk of another socking great clot if I push my luck. Fucking A, man.

Item – Compression socks. I hate them. They have a purpose and their purpose is excellent and my ankle is not swollen on a regular basis with thanks thereunto. They still suck. I still hate them.

Item – Cerazette! Still my bestest friend in the universe. Every few weeks, I spot painlessly for a week. Otherwise, my pelvis is filled with peace, calm, sunshine and dancing rainbow unicorns.

Item – Cerazette! Demon! My hair is falling out. I have a metric fuckton of hair to start with, so it will take a great deal of falling-out-ness before I start to look so much as wispy, let alone Leonardo da Vinci, and yet I am not amused. Not at all. Sodding hormones. On the other hand, I’d rather be spear-bald than spend three weeks out of five in so much pain I can’t really function, so fuck it. I have hats.

Item – Wheat. I ate some. Within 24 hours my oesophagus was so swollen I was having trouble swallowing (and had to go retch a few times when I had not chewed obsessively 27 times before swallowing, as ‘stuck’ is a thing). This is an official food allergy thing, apparently. I also got gut ache and wind and mild runs (trots?). I decided I hate delicious yummy wheat with a passion. Not trying that again. Damn it all to hell.

Item – Trying again. We were waiting for the all clear from the Haematologists (many and varied). The consensus is I will have to be on low molecular weight heparin AND aspirin from conception to six weeks after end-of-pregnancy. Also, I will have to wear stockings on both legs, and will probably be a physical wreck throughout. Hurrah! But, I can try again if I like. So we will go see Riverside Clinic in January, and see what can be done about tucking Frosticle back in me. On the other hand, a fresh IVF cycle? Possibly a really bloody silly idea, as ovarian stimulation/hyperstimulation is in itself a damn fine way of triggering blood-clotting. We shall see. My current feeling is, if Frosticle doesn’t ‘work’, I am getting seven cats and a pet owl and a horse called Horse.

Item – To my fury, Third Haematologist went on about there being no genetic ’cause’ for my thrombophilia, therefore I didn’t technically ‘have’ a thrombophilia, and I rolled my eyes, and what I would like to say is, actually, I don’t have a currently recognised genetic cause that you can test for. I ABSOLUTELY FUCKING DO have a thrombophilia. You fucking idiot.

Item (secondary, diversionary) – I much preferred First Haematologist, who was sympathetic and sensible, and Second Haematologist, who was actually The Doctor slumming it while evading the Family of Blood or somesuch. (I am perfectly serious. He referred to ‘eight of your Earth weeks’ at one point and H got the giggles (yes yes yes, so did I)).

Item – Work. I am back at work full time. It’s fine. I’m coping. Leg is not being so much of an arse as it were to interfere with my day-to-day duties.

Item – Family. Oh my God I have had it up to here with my family. I will no doubt get back to you all on this.

Item – Counselling. My NHS-provided counsellor, who I see once a week, is lovely and wonderful and has made me realise I spend an inordinate amount of time beating the everlovin’ shit out of myself for everything and anything from untidy hair to being a vile antisocial Bitter McTwisted of Doom. If anyone spoke to a friend of mine the way I speak to myself I’d disembowel them. I am practicing being sweet to myself. It is weird and hard. Also, she keeps reminding me, my family’s hang-ups are theirs, not mine, and I don’t need to take them on board at all. Build Team May! If people are not on Team May, skip briskly away into the distance singing ‘la la la’!

Item – Marriage. H and I are not happy. H has dealt with the Summer of You Must Be Fucking Kidding Me, well, badly. I have also dealt with it badly, but H has taken the proverbial biscuit, bless him. Communication has gone to hell. I will let H tell you about it. That is my revenge upon him, ho ho ho. Hi, H! Stage is all yours! So!

Item – Couple-counselling. We tried to find a counsellor. We had an initial visit in which the man would NOT. STOP. TALKING. When I bought up the whole ‘children now seriously unlikely’ thing, he had to stop me there to tell me ‘I didn’t know that’. Which, actually, was the first red flag. A good counsellor does not tell you what you should and should not be thinking about this sort of stuff on the first visit and before he knows any of the medical history apart from ten mother-fucking miscarriages in a row, you absolute 24-carat gold clotheared dickwhistle. And then tried to slut-shame me when I said I had a higher libido than H and the lack of sex and more specifically communication about sex in our marriage was making me sad and angry, by explaining to me as if I was very stupid indeed that in normal marriages, it was normal for both spouses to lose interest and get ‘too’ used to each other. Well then, I’m abnormal, as I haven’t lost interest in H at all, as I just explained, and the issue is the lack of communication, not the lack of sex per se, so sod you very much. And then, he never turned up to our second appointment. He made his excuses the next day via the practice manager. His excuse was not per se stupid, but his not getting in touch himself to grovel just a bit? Was a great fat honking flashing neon sign saying ‘this man is Not The Counsellor For You, Also, Has No Fucking Manners Whatsoever’. So. Start again.

Item – I have a disgusting cold. So there’s that.

Item – Christmas. Every card I write, every Christmas decoration I hang (or get H to hang), every present I buy or plan I make, I drag kicking and screaming from a black, angry, pissy abyss of raging misery. Just so you know. The only thing keeping me going is a) H’s various concerts (it’s a good thing, being married to a musician) and b) the prospect of the Doctor Who Christmas Special.

20 responses to “‘Tis the season. Hi.

  • Hairy Farmer Family

    I think Team May is an EXCELLENT idea. If someone BLOOD RELATION OR NOT displays the slightest iota of a scintilla of a hint of not being Team May to the core, I suggest hurling them without hesitation to the ravening pack. I can BE the ravening pack if you like: I have undigested rage about how terrible 2013 was to you.

    (Counsellor is juuust disappearing underneath a swirling mass of teeth and fur. You will not see him again in this life.)

    So, the clot… is it a permanent May THING now, or is there any chance that, scarring notwithstanding, it might sheepishly shuffle off into the circulatory depths given time?

    The mini-pill is indeed, Da Shit. Chances of you ever achieving baldness are, I feel, zero. Hair like ours is not to be easily diminished.

    Bastard son of a bastard camel in re… well, many, MANY things, GOD, but I was thinking specifically of the wheat. I am seriously vicariously grieved. I am going to have to learn to cook gluten-free cakes PROPERLY. *determined face*

  • Jo

    SO glad to hear from you. I miss you. I’m glad that things are less painful (physically-speaking) and that 2 out of 3 doctors aren’t complete imbeciles. As for the counseling? Couples-therapy never worked for us, but we muffled through somehow. We did try it, it just didnt do much good. You know what did? Ending the fucking miscarriages. I’m still hoping for your miracle.

  • Anonymous

    Really glad the counselling is going well. We were also referred to our local NHS-provided counsellor and, like yours, they were lovely and wonderful and stopped you feeling like you were about to go over a cliff (mentally). And, after a while, got us properly talking to each other again. I hadn’t even realised that we’d stopped but we had. Hubby had at least one session by himself too, which he found really helpful. So they indirectly acted as marriage counsellors as well – it might help in that area in time. Good luck with the blood doctors and the possible trying again. Go Team May!

  • bionicbrooklynite

    Team May, I am on it and will be proud to wear the t-shirt.

    …that’s all I got right now. Imagine you will understand. Xoxo

  • Bachelor's Button

    Grrrrr. Many times grrrrr. I’m gonna find a counsellor. It does hard things to you these many miscarriages and failed ivfs. Sounds like your couple’s guy needed a little support himself. I think that being kind to yourself is a good lesson to learn tho. And when family of the non blood type confound me, rather than leap into my normal fury, i now listen to the little voice in my head that says ‘they just ain’t your tribe’ and I nod sweetly while dreaming of pretty grassy flowery meadows. Xxxx

  • starrhillgirl

    Re more pets: just do it.
    Also, so glad to hear from you.

  • Mina

    Oh, May, I am so happy for you that this year is almost gone. Even if the next one comes in with a trashy blonde called Syndee, smoking weed and totting ads for hare krishna meet ups, while draging some dubious roadkill for breakfast, it would still be ten times better and nicer than this sodding 2013 has been for you. Do let the door hit you in the arse, clothead 2013! (Pardon clot pun. Clots are definitely unfunny.)
    I hope the next year is kinder and brings about good, major changes in your life. And go ahead and take ‘kinder’ literally auf Deutsch as well, 2014. Please, do that.
    Take care of H. Possibly dispensing with the services of wannabe counsellors who only want to hear themselves, and only temselves, talking. That is what family is for, no? And you don’t have to pay money, just years of your life and precious, non-regenerating dendrites. But who needs those anyway…
    Lovely to hear from you. You sound slightly better. I might be deluded, but I am sensing that you have been reacquainting yourself with that slut named hope. You know EVERYONE’s been sleeping with her, right? But it does not matter, she’s a sweetheart when she’s proven right, and a dirty slut otherwise.

  • NotSoNewtoIVF

    Go team May! This year has been so awfully shitty to you, you deserve a stupidly amazing one next year. And well done for ditching the counselor he sounds like a grade A dick.

  • Anonymous

    I would like to be on Team May please. I will provide my own cake and am happy to join in week-long rants about what a shittingly-awful year this has been all round. Where do I apply? x

  • Emily Erin

    Good grief, your luck this year is just awful. I’d like to kick the snot out of 2013 on your behalf, please. I’d also like to apply for my Team May shirt, so that I can join the group in a round beating of the couples counselor. Sending chocolate/wine/tea/spirits to help you will your way through the holidays and the family time. Hugs.

  • sheila

    So if we all put on Team May t-shirts, should we beat up the AWOL therapist first or the dumbass haemo #3? my money is on the haemo….

    It’s good to have you back – I missed your items.

    (That sounds really rude, but I promise it’s not meant to!)

  • Betty M

    Team May all the way. Glad to see you and your items back. Still sorry so many items are not as you would want.

  • waterbelle44

    Team May. Missed you. Thinking about you during these difficult times.

  • Lilian

    Missed you and have been thinking about you, well, probably every day. I hope that’s not weird. Glad about the Cerazette – fear not, I’m sure your hair will survive -, and the good NHS counsellor. Amused by the “eight of your earth weeks” man. Love to you & H. Go team May!

  • Valery Valentina

    Team May, me too. Hopefully my tea making skills make up for my deficit in getting the earth weeks reference.
    I don’t know how many times i would have left my DP without the counsellor, but probably too many. I hadn’t realised how lucky I was that I could bring DP to counselling when needed.
    If communication has gone to hell, and H will now take this stage, does that mean that we are all accompanying you to hell and back? Anyway or another, Hi H, will be happy to hear from you. Although I would be terrified of talking about libido online. I imagine that sadness and fear and stress easily overwhelm desire. Maybe even putting it into words will make it seem worse somehow? except that is the starting point of communication…
    Hopefully you will share many hugs to keep some contact going and not feel so alone.
    I will send un-terrifying thoughts your way.
    And make some more tea.

  • Amy P

    I’ll make fudge for Team May!

    Boo, hiss to the couples counsellor–the hiss being provided by acid, mwahaha.

    I think the horse should have no name. Though there aren’t any deserts around here…

    Being unable to get online for nearly a week at least let all the people who are good with those word things talk first 😛

  • twangy

    Team May! Me too with bells on. That counsellor sounds GREAT.

    As for the other one, merciful hour, save us. GOD. I am fantasizing about posting him some cat shit. Would that be wrong?
    Darling May – may the year of you must be fucking kidding me fuck off pronto. I wish you every happiness, peace, health and fun.

  • Korechronicles

    Glad you’ve found what you needed to get back to writing. And I’ll happily work towards Life Membership of Team May. Just let me know who needs dealing with first and I’ll work my way through them one, or two, at a time. xx

  • Womb For Improvement

    Oh man. What a pile of stuff you are having to deal with. Massive hugs. #TeamMay

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