The army, in its infinite wisdom, has referred me to a clinic that has no infertility treatments at all advertised on its pale pink website. Pregnancy and everything related to already being preganant, yes. All manner of womanly preventive treatments and exams, yes. Even such things as cosmetic surgery. But not a word about infertility treatments.
Please tell me my appointment is not going to be a complete waste of my time. I won't lie; I cried when I saw the website. The stupid doctor will tell me to take my temperature every morning to track my ellusive ovulation and to have sex every forty eight hours or some other basic level of advice that frankly, I can find on any one of dozens of websites.
Not being pregnant after all has tipped me over into a different place. Until last month, I hadn't really assumed the identiy of infertility. I was just playing with the possibility, looking at different avenues if it should be true, trying them on to see what they would feel like.
Now I am owning that identity and it has really shaken me up, more than I was prepared for.
I sometimes feel as though I should go through life feeling less, allow myself to become disengaged or cynical. Early on I decided I would rather live a messy, vibrant life than a safe, insulated one and I keep coming up against this choice, do I still want to continue making it? It's one thing to decide that at sixteen, it's a whole other choice at thirty two.
On an entirely different note, buying fresh fruit and vegetables is such a responsibility. Firstly, there's the initial cost investment. It's not cheap. Secondly, it's highly perishable and must, absolutely must be eaten quickly. Lastly, once it's gone, it must be acquired again so as to continue the cycle of eating healthily.
The last time Keith and I went shopping we got a little carried away. It was a combination of the flyer handed to us at the door-blueberries two for four! and then the box of seedless watermelon just at the entrance to the produce department.
We lost our heads. We bought one watermelon, a head of lettuce, seven on the vine tomatoes, one seedless cucumber, two cartons blueberries, one of strawberries, fresh spinach, two head of broccoli, four sweet potatoes, a bag of ruby red cherries, six Georgia peaches and six corn on the cob.
So, you can imagine that we have been feverishly eating all of it so as not to let it go to waste. Let me tell you, there is a lot of fruit in one watermelon. We're slowly hacking away at it, but it's a serious investment. Keith had watermelon with his dinner yesterday (which was herb roast chicken, mashed potato, sliced tomato with fresh basil and olive oil, and corn on the cob.) He had watermelon for breakfast this morning and he had watermelon for lunch. I did fix him a sandwich, but he dived on past it for the luscious red wedges.
"It's like eating and drinking at the same time," he excitedly explained.
I have to go and finish eating up the strawberries.
