So I have in my possession Clomid. We all know what that means: an all expenses paid trip to crazy town. And, as if the last time wasn't crazy enough, this time they've doubled the dose.
That's right; double the hormonal fun.
Of course, I have to wait until I get my period, and god knows when that will happen. In December, it came on the 14th. In January, it came on the 22nd.
Yes, that would mean that my period in January appeared to be a week late. 'Cause that's how my cycle rolls. It likes to drag out the emotional f-ckwittage to the very last moment. (That last phrase courtesy of Bridget Jones)
This time of the month Keith and I are all about very carefully edging around the very large white elephant in the room.
"Sooooo....." he'll say, sometime in the few days, all very casual like, "have you, um, gotten...your period yet or what?"
"No," I'll reply, either snappily or blissfully, depending on what PMS wave I'll be riding that particular hour, "but it'll come."
'Cause it always comes, just right after I've succumbed, sitting on the toilet seat with my phone open to the calender app, counting on my fingers. It comes later that afternoon. That's when it comes.
Day before yesterday, Keith and I were up in Indiana. Keith's dad had to be rushed into emergency hernia surgery and all his sons converged to be there with him. We made quite the cavalcade down into the surgery waiting room. There was the stretcher with my father in law, reduced by the necessity of the hospital gown and the IV. Behind him came his three tall sons, each long legged in jeans, wearing button down shirts and heavy work boots, slouch shouldered like cowboys, wearing ball caps.
I thought any man would be proud to have fathered such an impressive array of mid western manhood, and to have them all come to the hospital to be at his side and crack jokes about how the urinal was too small and they better call a nurse to bring a bigger one.
We ordered pizza while waiting for the surgery to be finished. I thought to myself, "Only the Indiana clan would be sitting in the surgery waiting room, having pulled the chairs up to a coffee table, eating pizza, wings and bread sticks spread out over the magazines."
When his father came out of surgery, there was a lot of laughter about how he had called one of the nurses "Precious." About the first thing he said, with his throat hoarse from tube, was "So did you go out for some beer and wings?"
"So what have you been up to lately, Jenny?" I get asked, from time to time.
"Oh, I'm writing again!" I say, all excited, forgetting how the next question will be inevitable.
"Writing what?" they ask.
"...um...faerie tales." Blank faces. "You know, like Robin McKinley?" Blank faces. "Like, fantasy?"
Light dawns, eyes wink, "Oh, fantasy!" harhaharharhar.
Sigh.
Then, yesterday, I had my therapy appointment (which went great, as usual lately) and then I had to go straight on post to pick up the medication and then Keith wanted me to stop by and visit him.
Normally I love to do that, mainly because I think my husband is the bomb in his uniform, especially with a loaded pistol strapped to his well muscled thigh.
But right then, I just wanted. some. coffee. I was starting to see light at the edges of my vision, my head felt tight. Ah, the pleasures of addiction.
I stopped anyway and got some kisses from my dusty soldier, who is currently fighting a cold, though you would never know it, unless you were his wife.
By the time I got home, my head was exploding. There is a point at which it becomes too late for the coffee to arrive, and I had reached that point. It felt amazing to drink, but eventually I had to go lie down because of the headache.
And of course, this was the day that Keith's new stereo equipment arrived, so there were hours and hours of adrenalin pumping stereo adjusting and enjoyment going on in the garage, which happens to be directly below the bedroom.
Besides, Keith was so excited and wanted, at various points, for me to come and sit in the back seat of the HD and enjoy the experience. Tell you what, that experience is now like being swallowed alive by sound. I can't even describe it. It's like a living torture chamber. The whole damn thing vibrates, and so do you, when you're sitting in it.
It is pretty exciting for Keith, though. It's state of the art equipment and he installed it himself. His work on the HD is complete; he's now living the dream, in terms of the luxury diesel, chrome accented, turbo charged, four wheel drive, concert sound system experience.
Thank god for the peace and quiet today. It's darkly raining outside, but that's just plain soothing.
