Yesterday spring was poised to spring. Daffodils were budding, ready to release their blooms. The few remaining Canadian geese on the lagoon outside my office were looking at each other sheepishly. I don't know guys...should we head out? There seem to be a lot of DUCKS around all of a sudden... All this, in combination with my hot flashes, made it seem like I'd be ditching the winter coat any day. But last night it snowed. Today, walking to work, I felt like my face was going to freeze right off. And, gloriously, my day began with an ice pack to the ass, followed by my second Lupron shot. It feels kinda burny, this time. But maybe that's just my ass thawing. Like the frozen earth. Preparing to bring forth new life. Not like my ass. I hope. That would be bad.
So, now comes the time when I begin to freak out for reals. What if there was some miscommunication and I'm supposed to do another month of Lupron? (Don't tell me I could resolve this fear with a call to the office. I know that. And I just confirmed the plan with the nurse this morning. Yet I continue to worry.) I admit to being quite scared about the surgery itself. What if something goes wrong? What if this decision is something I'll regret all my life? Plus, I'm scared about little things, like the fact that I've never spent a night in a hospital before. What will it be like? And what if the recovery is unbearably painful? Let alone all the fears that will arise once I'm through the worst of it and facing six months timed intercourse and negative tests... And don't tell me I could get pregnant. I don't believe you.
I might be extra distraught and pessimistic because of the couple in the RE's waiting room today. The woman came up to the window and cried out ever so loudly, I HAD TWO POSITIVE TESTS THIS MORNING! The office manager congratulated her...blah blah blah. They plunked down next to me in the empty waiting room and I could feel the excitement pouring out of her, and the happiness...uncontainable. I could feel her efforts to make eye contact, which I refused to indulge, as tears were welling up in my eyes. Every time I go in there, someone is getting a beta blood draw after a positive test. I know that's a good thing. It means my clinic is doing right by its patients. God only knows what this couple had to endure to get to that point. And why should anyone have to be discrete about something so thrilling? Why should anyone have to care about the feelings of others in a moment like that? No one should. But it's still going to be depressing for me.