Haven't been able to use the `fuck' word for ages, it's because I have been sneakily posting using the email method. And I can't use the `fuck' word using work emails. But today I am having a day off. At home. So here it is.
Fucking hell. Fucking hell. Fucking hell.
Today I was idle so I did some idle thinking. It has been six years. Six years of unprotected sex (with the exception when the nurses said don't have sex tonight because you have hyperstimulated so it's dangerous). These days I calmly walk into the blood room (as compared to the early terrified days), plonk my right arm down on the cushion and position myself, fist pumping. If the nurse is unsure I will say right here, in the centre, you won't see the vein but the sucker is there, just feel for it. And if they miss, I'd say don't worry, if you've lost it - pull it out and try the same arm again. You won't have any luck with my left arm and don't even think about the feet - we've been there once and it wasn't pretty.
And that was just one of the many, many procedures of IVF I am now so familiar with. No change of clinics or new doctors is going to take that familiar feeling away from me.
Got a phone call earlier today from the clinic. They want to do PGD on my fresh cycle next month. They want me to make an appointment with them to discuss the procedure - on top of the counselling session I booked with them. I said fine. Lets talk PGD.
This is depressing to write. So we will leave it as that. PGD it is.
On a lighter note - I did feel happier today - less pessemistic because I have the prospects of a new cycle to look forward to. I just need to get a good grip at it and take it in the chin.