Damn – H complained of a sore throat last night. I had a look, and yea, verily, the Tonsils of Doom had taken over. He is currently playing on his computer in the other room, in his dressing-gown with his hair sticking out at seventeen novel angles, having declined to spread Tonsils of Doom throughout his place of work. Poor lamb.
Good – Leaving work yesterday I bumped into a friend (hello! You know who you are), and we went off and had coffee together, which turned into a two-hour chat, and it was MARVELLOUS. We sat in the cold sunshine outside the cafe and dissected life, plumbing, husbands, work, studying, how other countries do things differently, her baby (due in the summer, and so very much a lovely happy thing to look forward to – I like babies), my lack of baby, the NHS and its funny little ways. Good GOD, but it’s nice to chat freely with someone, without editing myself or being braced for ‘difficult’ topics or assvice. So, thank you very much for that, my friend who knows who she is. I went home in an excellent mood and finished my job application in double-quick time, instead of wailing and moaning over it for hours as expected.
Oh Help – Did I mention the job application? It’s for Dream Job, which I first mentioned back in February – did I also mention dick-headed hoops of bureaucracy? Anyway, have now jumped through them all, except the job interview itself, and it would be morally wrong to assume I have the job interview despite all the encouraging and cuddly remarks Future Possible Boss has been making, so we wait, in case the Job Applicant From Heaven (as opposed to the other side of the office, like me) comes along. Having finished and sent off the job application, I now feel as if someone had filled all my clothes with fire-ants. Sit still? Concentrate on essays? Ah ha bloody ha.
Double-Damn – and just so the Not-Getting-Pregnant Drama doesn’t feel left out, I called the ACU this morning to get my 7dpo progesterone levels and my protocol for the next cycle. Well, heading this section Double-Damn was a bit of a give-away, isn’t it? None of you are expecting good news. 7dpo (though actually 6dpo, and this is THEIR FAULT, as they aren’t open for blood-draws on the weekend) progesterone, 29. I have no idea 29 what, exactly, but they prefer it to be 30. Nice Lady Wand-Monkey, who was giving me the news in her role of Nurse, Actually, said something or other about it being something or other to do with my ovulating more than a week later than ‘normal’. Fuck normal. I personally would point to my admittedly brief and wonky history of pathetically short luteal phases and say this is clearly normal for me. Anyway. As I clearly had ovulated and this is borderline too low, they think they’ll just do exactly the same again, 50mg of Clomid, that is, and, and this really is damn-it-to-arse annoying, monitor me every week this cycle too. How in crap am I going to explain that at work? I mean, one month’s worth of disappearing for scans, yes, I just muttered about hospital appointments and ‘remember the surgery I had last summer?’ and everyone was happy to leave it at that. But a whole ‘nother cycle?
I could simply come clean at work, but I don’t know if I dare, as I am applying for a job there, and while you and I know very well fertility treatment in no bloody way equals fertility, the Lay Person of Today does not know this and I really don’t want to banjax my career prospects over this, because if it doesn’t work, and I have no nice better job, I will be so utterly screwed it’s not even funny.