Visited the vampires yesterday for a progesterone test. Lovely levels, "excellent" they say. 54.7. Woot. Go me and my progesterone production! (They want a minimum of 3 and are happy if the levels are at 9). So yay. The body is well prepared for baby growing.
snicker-snort. We all know better by now. But at least we know I'm still "functioning", even if with some help.
My doc is so cute. We were talking about how if ovulation was somewhere around CD17, she'd expect my period to come, oh, say, probably this weekend. Right around CD28 or 29. Hee hee. For a medical professional, the level of naivete is endearing. We all know the Red Menace will not be rearing it's ugly head til the middle or end of next week.
But anyhow, I now have an appointment on Monday to learn how to give myself shots. Yay! ? That's the next step. So, Monday I learn how to jab myself with needles and simultaneously stay conscious. Then, when RM appears, I need to lickety-split get my butt BACK up to the doc (have I mentioned they're 90 minutes away?) to get an ultrasound done between CD1 and 3 to see "where I am". I forgot to ask what that means. Then, shots starting CD3. I've always wanted to be punctured daily. I wonder, if I perforate myself in the right pattern, might I be able to get the last extra pound or two on each thigh/hip to easily peel off? It's well worth wondering. I might have to content myself with one hip per cycle. Lopsided for a month, but hey. A pound lighter nonetheless. Better than laying down on a treadmill.
For right now, I'm only going to flirt a little bit with the pissiness of all this. Flirt flirt. Feeling robbed. Flirt flirt. It's unfair. Flirt flirt. I hate this. Flirt flirt. Can't I just get f-ing knocked up already. Flirt flirt. What does that abdominal twitch mean? Flirt flirt. F.
On a different note, here we are up to our ears in Holy Week. Hooray. Today is "Great and Holy Wednesday." Those Orthodox sure don't mess around when they name things, do they? I'm rather excited that it's Wednesday, and not still Tuesday. With the way our church has services scheduled this week, there was only church on Sunday. We missed Monday and Tuesday, so the whole preparing for Pascha thing has seemed a little distant and surreal. The fast has gotten rather hard lately. I'm tired. I want meat. I want more than one serving of dairy per day. I want sex with my husband (gosh stinking darnit). But I remember that it's supposed to be hard, and we're supposed to be tired, and we're supposed to be anticipating the feast. And the fruits of all of this are coming, are in fact already here, even if we can't see them yet.
So, my next 5 days will look like this: church tonight, playing taxi all day tomorrow, driving up to Cleveland (I think) to attend Great and Holy Thursday's Matins of Great and Holy Friday with some friends, perhaps some 9 AM Royal Hours and 2 PM Great Vespers of Holy Friday on Friday also up in Cleveland, then home for 7 PM Matins of Great and Holy Saturday (Procession with Holy Shroud) (don't be confused - the matins of Saturday are celebrated Friday night). Saturday will involve me very busily being a collapsed heap on the couch for most of the morning and into the afternoon, working in the evening, then PASCHA (yayayayay) services and feast from 11:00 til something like 3 AM. Sunday, I will sleep, eat 3 or 4 varieties of meat, tackle my husband in the sack, then go to work again. Monday, fun with needles followed by some sort of feast at home Monday night. And maybe more tackling in the sack. Woo!
It sounds lunatic. All those piles of services. But really, it's amazing. I'm not a nerd. OK, I am a nerd, but it's still amazing. I'm looking forward to my next few posts as the focus tightens, darkens, and then explodes into light.
1 comment:
God, tried to comment, but blogger is down. Giggling at the hip fat bit, let me know how that goes.
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