Monday, 25 August 2014

The universe will kick you when you are down.

CD1 came around last Wednesday, as I was preparing to drive down to a city for a training course.  Of course it did.  So I took my super powered pain pills Thursday morning and headed off to the course.  High. As. A. Kite.  As in, "hmm...I can't really feel my face" <poke poke> "I hope no one is looking at me poking my face.  Wow that carpet is trippy."  But after a few hours of nausea I felt better and most importantly pain-free.

I have taken a week off of running.  After running that 6k last week, I went running on Sunday with a friend.  I picked the trail but really should have done some research because oh my god the hills.  Who knew they were there?  Despite a few rest breaks to catch my breath at the top of said hills, I still averaged 44 seconds faster per kilometre trying to keep up with my friend's pace.  She is fitter than I am and can do that.  I'll get her back one day.  It was still a good run, but oh the shin splints.  So I decided to take a few days as rest days.  I planned to run while I was away for my course, but ended up walking a bit instead.  And I don't run while bleeding.  I don't do anything really.

I did get a phone call on Tuesday from the nurse at the medical centre, informing me that I was uber-low priority for a gyno visit, and that my doc was unhappy about it (she is not the only one).  The call was to let me know that if I wanted to go private I could get the consult done that way and then move back to public funding for treatment.  I said I would think about it.  I don't really want to pay $200+ just to tell someone I think I have endo.  And then have to wait to do anything about it because I get shunted back on the public side of things.  I suppose if I get that RE referral I will have to go down that road anyway...hmm.  I want to chart a few more cycles first, and try well timed intercourse (why does that sound dirtier than sex?).  I thought I had timed it well before I was charting, but now I am not so sure.  And I will not let fertility friend's changing ovulation date thing trick me again.  Fool me once.  If I had paid more attention to my body rather than my phone app I may have gotten in a well timed bonk last cycle.

The universe is picking on me.  Not only are there preggos and babies everywhere, but our grocery store is doing this "little store" thing where you spend $40 and get these little packets that contain mini versions of some groceries.  They have done it before and my running friend collects them so I get them and keep them for her.  But of course I open them first.  And the first one I opened:
Thanks, universe.  Thanks a pant load.

Saturday, 16 August 2014

Progress and sandwiches

Today I ran 6k.  Without stopping once, and with only one near face plant when I tripped over a rock.  Woot Woot!  After complaining to a friend earlier in the week about pretty much everything I have already complained about on here (yes, complaining is sort of a hobby but I try to make it funny), I stepped on the scales and in the course of one day, without any sort of gastro-intestinal pyrotechnics or dehydration, I dropped from my long held 86.5kg to 85kg.  And stayed there the next day.  I had been so close to giving up hope of ever dropping despite running calorie deficits and jogging frequently.  It took a couple of rest/yoga days (weather too miserable to venture out to jog after working in it all day), but it happened.  So maybe this is how it will be.  Maybe I will spend the next two weeks at 85kg growing more and more frustrated, only to suddenly drop a kilo and a half.  Perhaps a good reason to not jump on the scale every day. 

On the TTC front, today is either 17dpo, 14dpo, or 10dpo.  It is at least xdays past ovulation.  No real symptoms.  There have been cramps and sore boobs earlier, but not really anything now (righty is feeling a very little burny but I am not reading into that as it isn't athlete's foot strong yet).  I am not even approaching pre-period bloat.  Maybe the running is keeping bloat away.  I felt a bit like my period will arrive tomorrow earlier today, but now not so much.  So I will wait and see.  Might pee on a stick or two once my internet cheapies arrive.  I imagine right now they are stuck in customs and puzzling people as to why any one person would need so many things to pee on.  I am feeling pretty relaxed about the whole thing right now.  And once the period arrives it is a 6 pack of beer (which will magically be upgraded to a 12 pack because it is cheaper and it would be rude not to) and some sushi.  Maybe a bloody mary.  I really am jonesing for one of those with pickles and green olives and a turkey on sourdough with avocado and spicy peppers.  Drool.  Sadly New Zealand doesn't understand great sandwiches.  One of the gals at work and I were drooling over good sandwiches and moaning over how yummy they are in the states, and from way up the row another lady shouts out "I'll have what she is having!".  I think sandwiches are going to find their way onto the menu for tomorrow night. 

Perhaps one day I will tell the rueben story. 

Thursday, 14 August 2014

Throwback Thursday

Toffs as a kitten.  We got her from a house down the street that was giving away kittens.  The first little bundle of joy to be welcomed into the house.  She is 3 and a half years old now.  Usually too cool for school, but sometimes still acts the kitten!

Sunday, 10 August 2014

When the levee breaks...

Taking the "Two" Out of the Two Week Wait. 

According to Fertility Friend I ovulated on CD12.  Seemed early, but I was alright with that.  Sexy time was well-timed, and I was two days closer to the end of the cycle than I was last cycle.  I was happy, went about my business and felt perhaps even a little positive about this month.  After all, if I were to get preggers, this would put a due date smack dab towards the end of harvest, which is exactly the time I don't really want to have a bubs, if I could choose when to have a bubs.  IF I could get pregnant.  Assumptions vs. Murphy's Law.

Then a funny thing happened.  Something that hadn't happened to me yet, although I was aware it could.  Fertility Friend changed their mind.  I ovulated on CD15.  Hmm...ok, time was still reasonably timed, though not as well as for an ovulation on CD12.  The plan, as is the plan every month, is that bonking shall occur on CD8 (clear any cobwebs from Aunt Flo and stop freaky sex dreams), CD10, CD12, CD14, and CD16.  And if by CD17 I haven't ovulated, I always planned on a CD18 bonk just to be sure.  So by the time CD15 rolled around, Fertility Friend reckoned CD12 had been the day, so I gave the Moose a well earned break, and we did not bonk on CD16.  He is getting to be an old man, after all, and I don't want to break him (hence the every other day sexy time rather than every single day).

So...when Fertility Friend decided to be indecisive again on Saturday and changed my ovulation date to CD19, I officially FREAKED THE FUCK out.  Because we last bonked on CD14.  So if Fertility Friend is correct (and I am hoping they are not), I am out of the game this month, and now have an extra 6 days to endure before Aunt Flo arrives just in time for me to go away two nights on a training course.  Murphy, you and your law sucks.  Assumptions, you too.

Add this on top of the fact that I have lost maybe half a kilo, with all my running and cutting out beers and snacky things from my diet.  Half a kilo.  I needed to be down nearly a kilo and a half at this stage, to hit my goal of 10 kilos in 3 cycles.  So that isn't going to happen.

The icing on the cake (which I suppose I shouldn't even look at let alone eat), is the letter I received on Saturday, kindly informing me that my referral to the gyno ain't gonna happen as I am in no way urgently in need of sorting out what is probably endo.  Not even on the waiting list.  Signed by a man.  Let him feel what I feel Every. Single. Month. and see if I still get declined!!  Seriously, a melon-baller to the uterus would be heaven in the throes of those cramps!  I still have my drugs, I guess that is the silver lining.

So all of this has been building and building (as well as stress and annoyance from work...seriously I want to punch some people in the face), and Saturday, the levee sort of broke.  I freaked out again.  This month is probably a bust, just like every other bust.  The weight I need to lose to see an RE publicly funded isn't coming off even when I AM TRYING.  And even if it does come off, I can only get 2 cycles of whatever treatment they decide is best for me, once they diagnose me (if they even can).  And there is a waiting list for that.  Which I can't get on because I am overweight.  At the rate I am going, maybe 6 months to lose this weight, maybe a few more months on a waiting list, maybe a year to get diagnosed and even begin the only treatments we can afford (the publicly funded ones).  I want to dive face first into a cheesecake and drink a case of beer, because seriously?  Fuck it, this shit ain't happening.   Where are the damn cheesy poofs?

And the only thing keeping me remotely sane is the jogging.  I am not as stiff and sore as I was last week.  I can go longer, and probably faster.  I go from feeling like I am being suffocated in a pool of shit to feeling lighter, freer, and maybe even enlightened.  I return home feeling good (at least for a few hours) and even happy.  Saturday afternoon's run, after that damn rejection from the gyno, was amazing.  A skinny lady on a bike passed by shouting encouragement and giving me a thumbs up (nice since I had my music up so loud she scared the shit outta me) and I wanted to chase her down and hug her (but I still had 10 minutes of jogging left and needed the energy to get home...and no one likes sweaty hugs from strangers). Today I checked off my 5k mark, jogging a great river track with a friend.  It felt good.  It was the longest I had jogged.  Endorphins, you absolutely rock.  I will not give up on this yet.  My body is learning to do something it hasn't done in years, and it is succeeding.  I am regaining my confidence.  I've got this.

And as a precaution against further trickery on behalf of mischievous ovaries or indecisive Fertility Friend, I have ordered some OPKs, and some HPTs as well.  Guess I will be peeing on my money after all. 

Oh, and I do chart as accurately as possible.  I just have fluctuating temps.  This cycle has been pretty wild and I can think of no good explanation for it.  I will just have to wait til I bleed and count back my 14 days to find the truth I guess.

And I have been listening to Led Zeppelin exclusively. 

Thursday, 7 August 2014

10 shitty things about working in vineyards...

There are also some pretty crappy things about working in a vineyard.  So as to represent the job in as fair a way as possible, here are the 10 shittiest aspects of the job, according to me anyway.

1.  Spiders.  Seriously, big feckin spiders EVERYWHERE.  Only one of these is poisonous, and only located in a very small area, and I haven't seen one in years, but to me ALL spiders are the devil, regardless of how much of a punch they pack.  They hide on the vines.  They spin their nefarious webs across the rows so I walk through them <shudder>, and sometimes they hang out in these webs and I can see them from like 10 feet away hanging out waiting to get me.  Worse, sometimes I don't see them until it is too late.  One of my worst days ever I felt something down my top and looked down to see a reasonably big spider nestled menacingly in my cleavage.  Summer is the worst, but they are still around in winter, evidenced by frosty webs.

2.  Earwigs.  I am not really scared of them, like I am with spiders, but they do bite or pinch with those butt-pinchers, and it does sting.  They are kind of gross too.  And they get everywhere.  I have had them drop out of my pants, crawl out of pockets, and god knows where else!!  I've seen a few albino ones too.

3.  Toilets.  Or lack there of.  The vineyards we work at often have nothing more than a port-a-loo or a long drop.  Some of these are well tended to, others...well...lets just say I am not going into them.  From looking like they are ready to fall over, to shit stained everything, to the fact that they house a million spiders...well, no thanks.  In the summer when the canopy is high it is easier and safer to duck a few rows over and have a wee al fresco.  In the winter, it is a longer walk.  And there is always the risk of flashing someone.  I have the misfortune of almost always flashing the boss, who picks that exact moment to rock on up to the vineyard.  And don't get me started about Aunt Flo's visits...suffice to say that I carry hand sani and snaplock bags for when toilets are too frightening to enter.

4.  Harvest.  It is not a magical time of unicorn farts and Dionysian madness where nymphs dance around and pick grapes and drink wine.  It deserves it's own top 10 shitty list, and I will do that next year when that most horrible of seasons again creeps upon us.  I'll give just a hint of the horror: long hours, grumpy people, bruises, and constantly being sticky.  Really, really sticky.

5.  Broken shit.  Seriously, everything is broken or about to break all the time.  My electric pruners, for example, my the fuckers rest in peace.  The spring from my secateurs.  Post clips.  Wires.  Something with a tractor.  Something the tractor ran over.  If it ain't broke yet, just wait.  And then wait some more, because there is no part, no tool, no person with the ability to fix said broken bit for miles.  Get some no. 8 wire and some duct tape.  And MacGuyver.

6.  Dogs.  Now don't get me wrong, I like dogs, and I like having them at work.  It's nice to give them a pat or throw a stick for them when the boss isn't looking.  What isn't nice are the landmines (every dog chooses to shit in whatever row I am working in).  And the dead things.  I like bunnies, especially baby bunnies.  I know they have to die in the vineyards because of the destruction they cause and because of the hazards they pose to workers and machinery (step in a rabbit hole, break your leg and see how much you like them, I guess).  But I don't like seeing the dogs tear them to shreds.  Especially the babies.  And dogs can catch birds too, when the nets are on the vines.  And hedgehogs, on the occasion that there is a hedgehog around.  It bothers me having dying baby bunnies brought to my feet by a vineyard dog expecting praise from me.  Guess what, not gonna happen.  No good dog for you.  Get the hell away from me.

And the other thing about dogs.  They can steal your lunch and then you are shit outta luck.  A few dogs have a reputation for this.  One even got into a house on the vineyard and helped itself to the dinner cooking away in the slow cooker.  That beagle is since banned, since that is his third offence.

7.  Sticking with the animal theme...livestock.  Cows, sheep, chickens...lets start with the chickens...they are just freaky.  Sheep shit EVERYWHERE and having to muck about for 8 hours in said shit is slippery and unpleasant.  Cows don't quite shit everywhere, but the fresh cow pie is like a cartoon banana...there is no way to avoid slipping on that fucker.  And cows and sheep nibble on the vines, making our jobs a bit harder and more frustrating.

8.  Rabbit holes.  Mentioned in the dog thing but deserving its own mention all together.  We hire a full time person to shoot rabbits, poison rabbits, and fill in their holes.  But some always get by, and falling in rabbit holes is rather common.  I could fall in about one a day, or step in one a day.  I even fell into the same one twice within about 30 seconds one day.  I have been working only to have one collapse under me.  And it is always embarrassing to take a dive while talking or leading a group.  I fall or trip on everything anyway.  I do not need the help of the bunnies.

9.  Language barriers, wilful ignorance, and just plain stupid people.  How many times do I need to tell you to not do that again?  Seriously, don't thank me, I am not complimenting you.  I am not telling you good job.  I am telling you that if I have to tell you one more time not to touch that shoot I am going to shank you with my snips.  What's that?  You've just ripped that shoot off, thus fucking up that vine for the next two years?  Seriously?  I WILL STAB YOU.

10.  Hot weather.  Windy weather.  Cold weather.  Rainy weather when the job MUST get done.  Sunburn, windburn.  Dry cracking skin on my hands.  Bloody eczema on my hands.  Bits of vine down my top, bits of vine in my eyes.  And the fact that from all the sun exposure, I will likely look 80 by the time I am 50.  And tan lines.  Tan lines from gloves, from sunglasses, from hats, and the usual t-shirt line, sock line, etc.

The vines kinda look a little like uteruses...uterii...the plural of uterus.  

Sunday, 3 August 2014

The two week wait is upon us again...

And I won't pee on a stick until I am late, because I wouldn't pee on a $10 note.  Not even a $5 note.  And not even a $2 or $1 coin, because I am pretty sure I would just end up peeing on myself.  And the odds of success are so small that there is no point, and I feel that pee sticks are a slippery slope.  According to something I found online (I don't remember exactly where...might be the fertility clinic here) I have only a 19% chance of success any given month if I don't have any fertility issues, given my age.  Of course, by 12dpo I am sure I will break out my FRER, which will then ensure that I get my period the next day. 

So this TWW, I will:
  • Not do the symptom freak out google search thing.
  • Not get all moody and grumpy for no reason (well, not moodier and grumpier than is normal for the run up to the red bitch).
  • Actually get some work done.  I have a trashion show outfit to get started on.  I will need to get the housework done early because the girls are coming over Friday for a poker night (poor Moose has to go into hiding).  Time to stop procrastinating.
  • Keep running everyday (except Friday poker night...that can be my day off)