I feel crappy. Stupid cold. Jumbled head. Broken body.
People keep their distance so I can keep my germs to myself.
Writing a paper on Leadership. An extended definition. Social Justice. Five pages.
Are you fucking kidding me?
So, I have an appointment for my laparosc.opy (and a ride, thanks!) and an appointment with the urol.ogist. Another stranger to take my pants off for. Woo hoo!
Oh, and I spoke with the nurse at the RE's office today and yesterday about setting up pre-op stuff. My pharm was playing phone tag with the RE last week about changing my meds. Pharm wants to move me back to Cym.balta and off of the Pr.ozac, since I'm such a mess. Really feeling it. I know it's a combination of things. But I really hate it.
So, yeah, the pharm wanted to see how adamant the RE was about me taking the Cym in relation to pg, and of course they both have me as as their "first priority" rather than any baby that may come along, and we can adjust then, should that happen.
"If" I get pregnant I believe was the pharm's expression.
Maybe we should do IVF. Just blow it all on one shot. What the hell are our chances, anyway?
Maybe we should just get this all over with so we can move on.
I don't want to move on. I don't know why. I can't seem to let go yet. And it seems to be ruining me.
How's that for negative?
So, I'm talking to the RE's nurse about setting up the pre-op and the med change, and she's being really sympathetic. Almost too sympathetic. Like how it hurts her heart that there are so many people who have babies who don't want them, and we have gone through so much. That we would be such wonderful parents. And she's just praying that one day the light will shine on us. I made some half-joking/snarky comment about how someone needs to talk to the man with the light bulbs, and she said, I was talking about God, dear.
And see how much God has helped so far?
Who, me? Negative?
Maybe more cold medicine will help. For tonight, anyway.
Sleep is good.