Wednesday, July 06, 2011
Well what do you know, my life is still exactly the same as it was a week ago. And you know, when your life is this constipated, it's not really wise to look forward to the remedy, because I'm pretty sure that in the end, I'm going to end up with a giant bowl of shit.
The bleeding seems to have stopped. Mostly. Almost completely. I still don't feel even slightly pregnant. No hardening of my uterus, no nausea, nothing obvious that couldn't also be something else. Except my boobs hurt. I mean like to a cruel, mind-blowing degree. And my body temperature seems to want to go all over the map. I'm cold one minute and burning up the next. That sounds more like "the CHANGE", though doesn't it? I have to admit that I do enjoy not taking a million mediations--so sure, I'm doing the vitamin/herb thing, but no Big Pharma Brain-Control bullshit. Unfortunately, that leaves the rest of my body in the shitter. I fucking hurt from head to fucking toe, and I wish SOMEBODY around here really REALLY understood that. I feel like the bones in my feet are broken. I feel like my hips and ankles, lower back and fingers have all been pulled out of joint or jammed. It is exausting just existing like this. But nobody wants to hear me whine about it, and nobody understands how it really changes my ability to function. I fucked up at work today--nothing HUGE, but clearly not something I'd do if I were paying attention. Enough to draw negative attention to myself. And of course that's made worse by the fact that we're so damned slow at work that there's nothing to do but sit or stand around and think about how much everything fucking HURTS. Oh sure, I could take an FMLA day off--but how many sick days will I use up and not have available if I'm still pregnant? And if I'm NOT, then I should get back on the damned drugs and feel better once and for all. This waiting is driving me crazy.
So I'm already barely functioning, and naturally the pain keeps me up at night, so I'm working on zero REM sleep--I'm a ticking time bomb. So I come home and fall asleep on the couch. Naturally everyone's reaction to this once-in-a-decade phenomenon is to WAKE ME UP EVERY TEN MINUTES. Seriously--every breathing human being in this house took turns waking me up. I kept having fantasies of smashing heads under my car tires. And naturally, why were they waking me up? Were they bringing me a cool drink? An aspirin? Offering a foot rub? No, they wanted dinner. It's dinner time, and the masses are getting hungry--and aparently I have a magic spell on the kitchen that renders everything inoperable without my specific permission. I just get so damned exasperated to know that for 8 hours while I was wincing with every step and counting the minutes til I could come home and sit down, everyone here was lying around in front of a computer or a TV waiting for me to come home and service them. It's one of those times when I imagine that being child-free and single would be a much easier life to deal with.
The bleeding seems to have stopped. Mostly. Almost completely. I still don't feel even slightly pregnant. No hardening of my uterus, no nausea, nothing obvious that couldn't also be something else. Except my boobs hurt. I mean like to a cruel, mind-blowing degree. And my body temperature seems to want to go all over the map. I'm cold one minute and burning up the next. That sounds more like "the CHANGE", though doesn't it? I have to admit that I do enjoy not taking a million mediations--so sure, I'm doing the vitamin/herb thing, but no Big Pharma Brain-Control bullshit. Unfortunately, that leaves the rest of my body in the shitter. I fucking hurt from head to fucking toe, and I wish SOMEBODY around here really REALLY understood that. I feel like the bones in my feet are broken. I feel like my hips and ankles, lower back and fingers have all been pulled out of joint or jammed. It is exausting just existing like this. But nobody wants to hear me whine about it, and nobody understands how it really changes my ability to function. I fucked up at work today--nothing HUGE, but clearly not something I'd do if I were paying attention. Enough to draw negative attention to myself. And of course that's made worse by the fact that we're so damned slow at work that there's nothing to do but sit or stand around and think about how much everything fucking HURTS. Oh sure, I could take an FMLA day off--but how many sick days will I use up and not have available if I'm still pregnant? And if I'm NOT, then I should get back on the damned drugs and feel better once and for all. This waiting is driving me crazy.
So I'm already barely functioning, and naturally the pain keeps me up at night, so I'm working on zero REM sleep--I'm a ticking time bomb. So I come home and fall asleep on the couch. Naturally everyone's reaction to this once-in-a-decade phenomenon is to WAKE ME UP EVERY TEN MINUTES. Seriously--every breathing human being in this house took turns waking me up. I kept having fantasies of smashing heads under my car tires. And naturally, why were they waking me up? Were they bringing me a cool drink? An aspirin? Offering a foot rub? No, they wanted dinner. It's dinner time, and the masses are getting hungry--and aparently I have a magic spell on the kitchen that renders everything inoperable without my specific permission. I just get so damned exasperated to know that for 8 hours while I was wincing with every step and counting the minutes til I could come home and sit down, everyone here was lying around in front of a computer or a TV waiting for me to come home and service them. It's one of those times when I imagine that being child-free and single would be a much easier life to deal with.
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