I’m typing this instead of working out

Because guys. GUYS. I am so goddamn tired and it is just Tuesday.

Sunday night I only got about 3-4 hours of sleep because the cats were out of food (which I didn’t realize until i got out of bed yesterday morning). When the cats are out of food, all bets are off. They go from being sweet, docile, loving furry snuggle babies to acting like gremlin’s who’ve been fed after midnight (except they haven’t, heh. heh heh).

So anyway, yesterday started off in the disadvantage column right off the boot. Then I went to work until 1:30 where things are pretty busy because we’re about to hire a new person (I’m going in early for the next three days and not leaving early because we have about 20 interviews. FOR A PART TIME EMPLOYEE). At 1:30 I had to leave for the HSG.

Disclaimer: My experience was bad. That doesn’t mean yours will be. Don’t panic.

I showed up at the Radiology place where I’d never been before and signed in, did all the paperwork, blah blah blah. Stuff I’ve done, at this point, a million times before. I really wasn’t too stressed out about it. The first thing that gave me a bad feeling was the fact that the TV was on and BLARING Let’s Make a Deal. Now, I’m not saying they should be playing funeral dirges or anything, but at that moment, when I’m about to have a procedure that does have some say in whether or not I ever get to have a baby, I didn’t need people riding around in dragon cars (yeah, that happened) in my head. I also thought that I wasn’t the only one with something semi-serious happening there today, and maybe their choice of entertainment was a little garish.

So anyway, eventually the technician came and got me and I got changed. She was sweet-very considerate. She described everything (as if I hadn’t Dr. Googled it) and said that discomfort levels “vary”. There was also an issue about the fact that the front desk hadn’t made me do a pregnancy test, even though I’m three weeks past my period. I kept having to reassure her that there was no way I was pregnant, I was on lupron and norethindrone, and that for goodness sake if I couldn’t get pregnant for two years OFF of lupron there was no way it was going to happen ON lupron.

Then the radiologist came in. And he was a jerk.

I’ve been pretty lucky in the doctor and nurse department. Everyone I’ve dealt with has been sensitive and kind to how difficult IF is. Everyone else has realized that on some days it feels like a goddamn marathon just to make it through. Just to live your life with the weight of knowing that maybe it’s not going to happen for you. Or maybe it’s going to be fucking expensive to the point that once you HAVE the kid, you can’t AFFORD the kid. Everyone else, but this guy.

He literally TAPPED the speculum three times when he put it in just to make sure it was in there (which HURT). Then he had to yank it out and TAP it in again. I’ve had speculums inserted before (haven’t we all?) and no one has ever tapped it in. I’m sorry, but I call bullshit on that. Then he was just about as sensitive putting the catheter in. Then when the dye went in, I had instant, strong cramps. The technician saw me clenching up and starting to tear up and was understanding, and I know he was doing his job and didn’t have time to come up and hold my hand, but if it had been my OBGYN he would have said “I’m sorry, I know this hurts. It’s going to be over in just a minute. Hold tight for me” Or something to that effect.

Or at the very least, when it was all over, he wouldn’t have yanked the speculum and catheter out, and left the room calling out behind him “Your tubes are clear”.


I’m sorry, but when I’m paying you a lot of money for a new and inventive way to VIOLATE me, you can stay for one minute and say “I know that hurt, but the good news is your tubes are clear. Best of luck”, or some other phrase that would take ten seconds of your time and one small ounce of humanity.

So that wasn’t good. Then I went home and cried, because when I called Chief to tell him I was leaving the Radiology clinic, he didn’t ask how I was, or how it went. He doesn’t do this because he doesn’t care-he does this because sometimes (and I say this with love) he’s just dumb. And don’t worry, I nailed him for it. I reminded him that he’s had to do NOTHING difficult in the pursuit of having a child, in fact, all he’s had to do is have SEX with me, so he can be a little sympathetic and, oh HELL, INTERESTED or CONCERNED in what’s going on. He probably got more than he deserved, but after that radiologist the last thing he needed to do was not ask me how I was or how it went.

So then I went home and got in bed for a little while. The cramping was pretty much gone by the time the drive home was over, but I still needed my bed. I had to do a presentation about the library for work at a home that was 45 minutes away from mine that night, and I just needed a minute to get past the crap that was my afternoon. That meeting didn’t start until 7:45 and I didn’t make it home until 9:30. To Chief’s credit, he ordered my favorite pizza and had it waiting when I got home, despite the fact that pizza is expensive in our area and we are tight on funds until payday this week. I’m not mad at him anymore, but oh hell was I.

I fell into bed about 10:30 and was asleep around 10:31, and when the gym alarm went off at 6:00 am I tried to get up. I really did. I even stood up, walked around the house gathering my gym clothes, but I just couldn’t WAKE up. It wasn’t until around 6:30 that I felt awake enough to even type this, and I have to start getting ready at 7:00, so there was no time at that point to make it to the gym. And this is the first time that’s happened in quite a while. I’m having a lot of guilt about it, because missing workouts is not the way to go. But I’m trying to also remind myself that missing one won’t make me gain back the 46 pounds I’ve lost this year. And I’m going to try to make myself go after work-although no promises on that. I have an eleven hour work day tomorrow and a nine hour one today and Thursday. Friday I’m supposed to have off for Chief’s birthday, although I told my boss if we needed to schedule an interview in the morning we could, but I’d like to make that last resort because, damn it, I need a day. I just really need a day.

And now I have to go to work, and run the marathon again.


Who needs kids when you have dogs…

…to suck all your money away?

So we have this dog, who we love, named Pepper. Pepper was Chief’s dad’s dog who got left with us when they moved away. Being the horrible human being that he is, when we asked him if he was coming to get her he said “No, take her to the pound if you don’t want her”.

Umm no. Librarian doesn’t roll that way.

The poor thing had been completely neglected. He would take her for shots, but he never treated her for fleas. He never paid attention to her. He never let her in the house. It was a horrible existance for her I’m certain.

Then when she got left with us we started training her to be in the house with us at night, to be around the cats, to get along with my dog, etc. etc. We wanted to assimilate her into our life. And this wasn’t always easy, but it wasn’t fair to her to treat her any other way.

For a while, Chief’s dad would begrudgingly pay her medical expenses. And then this year after we bought the house from them he stopped paying. It’s like he figured that we bought the dog when we bought the house. Here’s the thing, if it were just shots and flea treatment, I wouldn’t even worry about it. He’s a sad excuse for a man. I shouldn’t expect better. But Pepper can’t seem to stay healthy. In the past year she’s had to have her shots, has had an eye infection, has had an ulcerated rash on her tummy, has had to have her teeth cleaned, and yesterday I had to take her to the vet for a stomach bug. While we were there yesterday, she got excited about something and yanked on her leash so hard that she choked herself and almost pulled me over. She started coughing which is normal in that sort of situation, but it usually passes in a few minutes.


She hacked all. day. long.  She didn’t stop until she went to sleep unless you were petting her. And it wasn’t even really a cough-it was a honking noise. Like a goose. So I called the vet this morning and they were all “maybe it’s kennel cough!” and I was all “no. that’s dumb. She’s injured her trachea, maybe collapsed it”. And they were all “No! It’s kennel cough!” At this point, I’m slamming my head into a wall from frustration and feeling sick about her being sick again. So she has to go to the vet again tomorrow for observation/treatment of whatever she’s done to herself.

Here’s my point: in the last year Pepper’s medical expenses alone have cost somewhere close to $1000. She is so expensive that I’m having to neglect things like vaccinations for my cats because they are indoor so Pepper’s maladies have taken precedence. And I wouldn’t have a problem with this if I had chosen to take on this expense. And I guess in a way I did by refusing to throw her to the wolves when EFIL (Evil Father-In-Law) told me to, but it didn’t stop me from crying last night because I was home alone, Chief was working late, and I couldn’t get the poor dog to stop coughing. I just felt so overwhelmed by the situation, including the cost. And I know it’s horrible to even think about that when she’s feeling bad, but I make $20,000 a year-it’s not  a lot. And I also kept thinking what would we do if we had children to take care of and these expenses kept popping up? In December-the most expensive month of the year.

So that was a low point this week for me. I am getting caught up on my sleep, and Chief let me cry and curse his father’s name last night while holding me in bed. I’m sure he’s ready for me to stop swinging around like a tilt-o-whirl with my moods-I’m sure we all are. On the positive front, my boss is happier now that her semester is done AND Chief’s parent’s ARE NOT coming to town for Christmas. Hallelujah, praise sweet baby Jesus.