So, some good news — my fertility treatments are working.
And by that, I mean, my ovaries are actually paying attention to their surroundings. Not that I’m pregnant.
See, all last week I took a round of medication (Clomid, to those of you in the know) that’s designed to make my ovaries stop being lazy bums. There was a chance that I wouldn’t respond to a single dose, or at all for that matter. I was kind of worried about needing an additional dose or two — because the side effects were already serious.
Ladies, imagine the worst PMS you’ve ever had. Fellas, imagine your wife/sister/mother/girlfriend on her worst day.
Now double it.
There were a few days there, when I thought I might actually kill someone. I was pissed. At everything. I yelled at a woman in the Target parking lot, because apparently no one ever bothered to teach her how to park her Camry. What? I had places to be, and someone had to tell her she was an idiot.
I accidentally hit Mike with a bamboo back-scratcher. And by accidentally, I mean I accidentally hit him hard — because I totally intended to hit him with it in the first place. Apparently another side effect is super-human strength.
On a normal day — I’m very sensitive to what I’d call “mouth sounds.” I don’t like the sounds of chewing, or talking with food in your mouth — that sort of thing. Then a few days ago my boss pulled his chair up behind mine to look at some reports, and proceeded to eat what sounded like one thousand M&Ms. Individually. Right in my ear. It is a miracle I didn’t burn the building down.
And, holy hot flashes, Batman! I will never make fun of my mother again. Hot flashes are serious business. I’d be laying there trying to sleep, sweating my ass off, and then two seconds later I was freezing. This happened all day, every day, for seven days. Add in a surprise party at a pizza place, with a table right by the pizza oven, and eight hours of filming a movie with friends under the world’s biggest, hottest lights over the weekend — and I was a sweaty mess.
But, oh my god — the crying.
I have cried over the most mundane things, you can’t even begin to imagine. The stress of the hurricane and the fact that we still don’t have electricity is not helping matters. In no particular order, I have cried about the following things, for anywhere from 30 to 45 minutes each, in the last ten days:
What kind of Chinese food to order for dinner.
Throwing away a pack of hotdogs.
Throwing away a pack of hamburgers.
Mike asking me if I wanted to go swimming.
Mike asking me what I want to watch on TV.
Automated recordings from BGE.
Missing fonts on my work computer.
All this after one dose of the medication. I was afraid a second dose would bring about the apocalypse.
But I had a follow up appointment yesterday, and the first dose seems to be enough — I’ll find out for sure tomorrow at another appointment. I honestly didn’t expect one dose to be enough, so I’m already excited — even if we don’t get pregnant, I think it’s a step in the right direction.
At the very least, it’s nice to know all the insanity wasn’t for nothing.
Oh, also — Spite or Flight is on Facebook!! Like me?! I need constant virtual attention!