Got the Blues
Not literally. After watching Cadillac Records over the festive season, I really got to like some of the songs and so got a copy of the soundtrack.Much to Mammy2’s relief, I think she’s just about gearing herself up for the eurovision this year and is counting her blessings that Westlife are taking a break from gigging this year. Etta James and Muddy Waters are excellent, well Beyonce as Etta James was excellent, I must get some of her music. I guess I never noticed her before, her talent being swallowed by Destiny’s Child. I spent most of yesterday organising my itunes library, making sure all the artwork was in place and that the track listings are in the right order. And I’m not even PMTing?! Madness. If I was PMTing, I’d probably put them all in alphabetical order.
Speaking of Pretty Mean Titch, we headed to the doc on Friday to get clarification on all things ovary related. We were both of reading about it, second guessing it and looking at one stripe on the stupid OPKs. Mammy2 was in bad form due to another meeting in work and they were saying she was going
too slow. She gets reprimanded when she goes too fast and makes mistakes and then they want her to speed up. She doesn’t know what they want. She managed to get off early and come along with. Thank god our doc is so open minded, she doesn’t mind both of us going in and asking the oddest of questions. Basically, she said we should go with what my body tells me and not to put 100% investment in the OPKs, as things aren’t as black and white as they predict. She reckons if the clinic asks to explain it to them. I can’t really see the clinic demanding to see a pee stick to be honest, but then again you never know. So this month we’re doing one more set of testing and next month when I start wanting to jump rugby players more the usual and some other signs I won’t share with you, I have to ring the clinc. Its going to be such short notice though that Mammy2’s work place might be hassle. Thankfully my place is grand, I work up the hours and its all fine. I would like Mammy2 to come along the first time, as I’ll be nervous. All this talk and preparation and something is finally going to happen.
I guess between now and then, I stock up on folic acid, green veg and get in shape. Fun. I suppose I have to give the sperm the optimum chance of survival. I’m sure the doctor thought I was nuts when I asked did I have to hang upside down after the procedure for a day or 2 to make sure the little swimmers stay put. Thankfully she’s used to my oddball questions and assured me they would stay put.
I’m both nervous, excited and trying desparetly not to get my hopes up but its hard not to. I keep saying to myself to write off the first attempt as there are so many factors that the body and the ovaries have to get used to. Different sperm, there could be a language barrier as they might only speak Danish seeing as all sperm in Irish clinics is from Denmark. Oh lordy, what happens if the ovaries are unimpressed by the contential fellas and their sauve moves. What happens if they have an irish based hissy fit. Perhaps I could ask the doctors in the clinic to play some Orish Schlap the thigh music? Not really getting them in the mood, Oh, maybe some Barry White. Perfect music to concieve by. Google has an answer to everything, supposedly there is already a musical called, wait for this, Infertility, The Musical.
Infertility
You couldn’t make this shit up.
