Aaand here we go again. It’s CD1, after yesterday being CD72. Frick. How fitting that the day I must discard my last faint hopes is the same day I finally have my first counseling session. I had to have some kind of luck sometime, right? Because of course we couldn’t hold off just ten more days so I’d be back at the RE on CD3.
I really didn’t begin this post intending to sound so very bitter.
But now it’s only going to get worse. Because I just got done with my appointment.
I was told three weeks ago that I’d be seeing someone to talk to. Nope. I saw the nurse practitioner to talk about medication even though I thought I made it quite clear to the social worker that I was unwilling to be medicated because we’re TTC. Okay, enough italics.
And enough bitterness.
Because I realized, hell, we won’t be affording the next step–letrozole–until March when the car’s paid for (happy dance!!), so bring on the mood stabilizers, my good woman. Anybody else tried Latuda? We’ll see how it goes.
When I got all done and got out to the car, I was all set to burst into tears. But as the first two rolled down my face, it was like a switch flipped. Screw it. So I didn’t get to talk today. So I’m continuing my break until March. So what. Worrying isn’t going to change anything. I never really got that before. But I get it now. And I immediately felt better. So I guess it did some good today after all.
Now to curl up in bed with a sock full of hot beans on my poor cramping girl bits whilst I wish for my blood pressure to go down some.