Which ...realistically, was probably not a great idea timing-wise. I chose a week that I had hospital call (translated: an 80 hour work week) to intentionally make myself psychotic. And by chose I mean that my completely unpredictable cycle decided to start itself during the worst week of the month possible. So ...most of my weekend went something like this:
At the hospital:
Me: Tell me about what brought you to the hospital?
Unsuspecting patient: I blah blah blah life threatening symptom.
Me: Did you ever have anything that felt like blah? (I'm fairly certain that the hospital may have just turned the heat on. It was supposed to be cold this weekend. I think they might have misjudged it a little).
Unsuspecting patient: Why yes! I did have that symptom that means I need to head directly to the angiography suite to have a clot removed from my brain before I become a vegetable!
Me: Fantastic! Let me go (get completely naked and bathe in ice water and then) arrange that for you (because clearly we are both very near to death as I have developed a fever of approximately 112 degrees in the last five minutes!)
At home after working 80 hours and perhaps not in the most relaxed state of mind:
Husband: What do you want for dinner?
Daughter: I'm starving!
Me: I seriously would have thought that the two of you could have figured SOMETHING out without me this weekend because I am obviously the most important person in the household and have been slaving all weekend and you both pretty much just suck for not kissing my feet and greeting me with roses.
So yeah ...Clomid. Aside from a touch of irritability, hotflashes that literally feel like they may have come from hell, and a visit from the long missing libido - Clomid has gone fairly well so far. Heheh....I haven't even threatened divorce. Yet. I still have those two pills to swallow tonight though ...give me some time. And then my life will be ruled by the scheduled peeing on sticks (of the OPK variety). I'm also contemplating calling the
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