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| ...And that's when she turned into a robot! |
| 02.27.04 (7:34 am) [edit] |
Or at least that was my dream.
You see, my body is rejecting me. I have classic pregnancy symptoms--sore boobs, bloating, nausea from time to time, dizzy spells, peeing once an hour, itchy nose.
But it don't mean a thing if you ain't got that cling..
So I suffer through the symptoms, all the while counting down the clock until my bloodletting arrives to cancel out the once-hopeful side effects of temporary egg fertilization.
And then again, I may not be pregnant at all, and all of this is amplified PMS mixed with acid reflux, a sinus infection and a yet-to-be-discovered UTI.
Who knows... at this point, what's the difference? If I had an android body, like in that episode of Star Trek where the humanoids extract their essence into spheres and then have them transplanted into android bodies.. Now that sounds like appropriate use of technology! Oh what I could do!! I do have a few questions for the 'droid manufacturers..
*Can I pick the body style of my android? If so, I choose the Salma Hayek or Rebecca Romjin-Stamos model.
* Regarding replication.. Are all models equipped with an internal replication chamber that is free from malfunction?
* If it is my essence inside the android, does that mean that I have my own set of life experiences and knowledge going into this? If so, can I delete certain experiences from memory?
* What does an android eat? If I can't have my daily ration of Little Debbie snack cakes and Chinese takeout, I get grumpy. Please note: I am not fond of motor oil unless it is disguised as sesame chicken sauce.
I hope to hear back from the manufacturers soon so that I can get started right away.
[i]Edit note: Robots don't get periods, right? Because my human body is getting it right now. A 25-day cycle!! What the HELL???? Stupid, rassin'frassin'blerglefra ggin...[/i]
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| SNOW DAY! |
| 02.26.04 (5:42 am) [edit] |
A much-needed weather development.
It SNOWED!
Not that I am truly expecting a full day of rest and relaxation, but I am thoroughly thrilled that the cold weather produced SOMETHING useful instead of misery and shivering.
I like snow. It is a bright contrast to the icky grey skies that have been hovering over Atlanta for the last couple months. I am a creature of my environment, easily. I am affected by the barometer. I am affected by the sky. Hell, I am affected by the grocery store not carrying Butternut Squash Soup. I am affected.
But today, the effect is wholesome. I feel energized and ready to do stuff. I plan to FINISH [url=www.oliviadrab.com/kitchenproject.html]MY KITCHEN[/url] !!!! Do I ever do anything else in my house? Not really.
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| Olivia Drab's Instruction Manual |
| 02.23.04 (6:13 pm) [edit] |
Because my emotions are very confusing, I have set up an instruction manual for those who know me or have ever been pistol-whipped by me.
[b]Mood Schedule[/b]
[i]Menstruation[/i] - 3-4 days in which Ollie mimics the fetus that she never had, curls into whimpering mass; pain creates an air of self-pity (often heard is the phrase "ohhh, why me?"); followed by 1-3 days of neverending spotting, hair pulling and sexual frustration.
[i]Pre-Ovulation[/i] - 6-10 days of smooth sailing; this is when Ollie actually accomplishes something; best time to approach her with YOUR troubles, home issues or anything else that requires unencumbered emotions.
[i]Ovulation[/i] - This miraculously functioning aspect of Ollie's body occurs between cycle day 10-15, depending on nature's whim; symptoms include agonizing pain in one or both sides, hot flashes, cold flashes, a rise in temper, sore boobs and the occasional outburst of uncontrollable crying; not a good time to ask her to pick up the shirt off the floor.
[i]Post-Ovulation[/i] - Waters calm somewhat; boobs ease up unless pregnant; it is acceptable to discuss issues with Ollie during this time, however do not criticize her for eating an entire bag of Chips Ahoy; not to be confused with PMS.
[i]PMS[/i] - 4-5 days before period arrives; most volatile during this time; do not begin arguments; approach with caution... and have tissue and sweets handy.
[b]Symptoms of PMS[/b]
1. Sore boobs.
2. Snappish remarks that may or may not be accompanied by pouting, tears or a challenge.
3. Crying fits that take place in the shower, bathtub, bed, car, kitchen, floor, work cubicle, the long drive-thru line at Wendys, Hallmark store, when a sad/happy/funny/cute commercial or TV show comes on, when given a gift, when not given a gift, when someone else gets a gift, when looked at wrong, when not looked at, when left alone, when bothered, when clothes don't fit right, when clothes are dirty...
4. Applies personalities to inanimate objects, then cries because it might feel lonely or rejected because it is placed in the guest bedroom instead of living room.
5. Feelings of self-doubt.
6. Weighs jail time -vs- manslaughter.
7. Convinced that any day now, husband will ask for divorce for no apparent reason.
8. Nausea, vomiting, dizziness or a positive pregnancy test ([i]a sure sign that the period is on her way[/i]).
9. Bloating.
10. Cookies don't come in big enough bags.
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| Biding my time |
| 02.20.04 (6:42 am) [edit] |
[b]Fact:[/b] I am an angry infertile.
[b]Fact:[/b] We are on an extended "Not-Not" break ([i]as in we are not trying, yet not preventing pregnancy, either[/i]).
[b]Fact:[/b] I have an appointment for a second opinion from another RE on March 30.
[b]Fact:[/b] I have to know why everything works the way it does.
So basically, I have another month and a half to go before I can find out if a fresh eye on my medical records can provide insight into my body's terrible habit (you know, the one where I just can't get enough of aborting my babies! Nasty, foul HABIT.)
In the meantime, I do what any average neurotic and bitter infertile would do--I obsess over why this is happening. What am I eating that pushes my embryos over the edge? What cleaning material did I sniff too long? What did I say to piss off the fates so badly?
The answer to all of these questions is, of course, "nothing" but try telling ME that.
The other thing I that I am a science nerd. So I peruse medical encyclopedias and physician websites, news articles about reproductive discoveries and rapidly I become a "Reproductive Hypochondriac". I am sure I am not alone.
I still can't keep my mind off the damnable fibroids that everyone but my Chinese doctor tells me not to worry about. Don't worry.. don't worry.. doooooon't woooooorry. Yeah, sure. And also, don't breathe oxygen, m'kay?
The point I am making is that between now and March 30 I will be making myself crazier and crazier thinking about WHY.
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| Words I hate... |
| 02.19.04 (4:57 pm) [edit] |
Sophisticate
Classic
Feet
Fish
Bargain
Now use them in a sentence:
His date was a classic beauty, a real sophisticate, but her feet smelled like fish.. what a bargain!
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| That's just what we call pillow talk, baby... |
| 02.16.04 (6:09 pm) [edit] |
So I was convinced to try acupuncture. It worked for a good friend of mine in the same leaky luxury liner called Miscarriage.
My acupuncture experience since my first visit in September 2003 has ranged from moderate to holy shit.
In my initial interview with Dr. L, I realized that my medical history closely resembled [i]The Comprehensive Medical Disease Index [/i]. I started with Miscarriage. Then she dug deeper. I revealed that I also suffer from asthma. And allergies. And Irritable Bowel Syndrome. And mood swings. And chronic dry skin. And menstrual cramps. And the list went on and on.. I felt worse about myself leaving her office than I did going in.
But I felt optimistic that she could help. She said she could. My friend said she could.
So I ate the black and purple-hued foods. I stopped my daily intake of ice cream and spicy foods. I ate soup before every meal. I even made and ate a repulsive concoction that she insisted I eat as a "snack". I did these things.
I receieved acupuncture on the front of my body only. I didn't mind it so much, except when the needle accidentally struck a nerve and sent me through the roof. Or when I was all prettied up in my needle suit and then my nose would itch and my eye would twitch or my nose would run. Then I wanted to rip the needles out and run as fast as I could from the nice little Chinese lady. "In China, itching was used as a terrible form of torture," she once told me.
The back was reserved for something much more sinister: [url=http://users.tpg.com.au/mortp...]Cupping.[/url] I ended my sessions with sore muscles and a sleek set of back hickeys in a shade so purple that Prince would blush. What an event.
Well today the joy of acupuncture took a kinky turn.
I told my Chinese doctor about my recent discovery of uterine fibroids that are embedding in the upper muscular wall of my uterus.
I tol her, "They slightly dip into the uterine wall and concern me a great deal, although my doctor tells me not to worry about them."
She said, "Oh yes.. you should worry. They can cause miscarriages! Some women can have perfectly normal pregnancies with fibroids, but in others, the fibroid takes the blood supply that should go to the baby--even small fibroids!"
I nod in agreement, then get on the table for my itch-torture session.
That's when she pulled down my pants and stuck needles on my ass cheeks.
I must look up the fibroid-ass connection, because that was one I didn't see coming. I assume it has now been assimilated into my bi-weekly regimen.
Ass needles. And I didn't even get a glass of wine, or dinner, or anything. I mean, if I had warning I would have at least worn a leather thong. I must go to Victoria's Secret before the next session...
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| Come on People! Start a Voodoo Train!! |
| 02.14.04 (11:18 am) [edit] |
Can anyone PLEASE tell me what the hell a prayer train is? I really want to know. It seems my family has started one for me, and if it involves goat blood and rat testicles, then I need to go to the grocery store (my pantry is empty due to the kitchen blitzo.)
I think it involves dancing and ass-grabbing which sounds fun.
But I have an idea. In light of getupgrrl's retrieval on Monday, how about a VOODOO Train? Eh? It is like a Prayer Train, only BETTER!! I will bring the goat blood (since I am on my way to the co-op anyhow.) Someone needs to bring chips and dip because with all that dancing and ass-grabbing, we are BOUND to get hungry.
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| Obligatory Valentine's Day Post |
| 02.14.04 (5:31 am) [edit] |
Happy Valentine's Day to everyone.
Ok, that's enough of the chirpy optimism for one day, wouldn't ya say? And now back to our irregularly scheduled crankiness.
What plans do the old man and I have for VD? We are tossing our hands up in surrender to [url=www.oliviadrab.com/kitchenproject.html]our kitchen[/url] .
We have hired [url=www.homedepot.com]The Man [/url] to do it for us.
We thought we were big enough, strong enough and had the moxy to hang cabinets ourselves. Well, friends and neighbors, the truth is (here comes the shock factor) hubby and I are no Bob Vilas.
And what goes with a thwarted ego? A hearty helping of chocolate cake if you ask me...
[i]*ed. note: Also, my ovaries have picked today as the cheesy, ultimo-optimistic day to punch up a huge egg follicle. Oh yes, my ovaries think they belong to Hallmark. Ouch. That's right, little ovum. Never give up. Poor bastards. [/i]
[LINE]
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| The Grand Duchess of Literature steps up to the mic... |
| 02.12.04 (10:23 am) [edit] |
*tap tap* Is this thing on?
[u]Ode to Cervical Mucous[/u]
Oh how you taunt me
Slippery slime of the gods.
You're there when I don't need you
And when I need you you're gone.
Husband works late,
Eggwhite runs amok,
Husband is frisky,
Friction burn ruins a good f- *cough*
I force you out with Clomid,
Grapefruit and Robitussin,
But never are you as ooey-gooey
As when the doc says "no lovin'!"
So this ode's to you
Oh mucous of the cervix,
Maybe next month
You will finally read the eff'ing calendar. (Oh wait that doesn't rhyme.)
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| Yes, Virginia, there IS a God. |
| 02.11.04 (11:37 am) [edit] |
Ok, I received news today that restored my faith.
My very good friends E & C announced that they are pregnant, and the first beta is over 43,000. Yes, that's right over 43,000, which is awesome enough.
What makes this so special is that E & C have been trying to successfully conceive for three years now. They have had 5 or 6 miscarriages, an IVF that didn't make it and been told (oh so delicately) that both their eggs and the sperm lacked chromosomal karma.... and that they stood a <10% chance of ever having a normal healthy pregnancy in their lifetimes.>
[quick edit--and by "IVF" I mean they harvested some twenty or thirty something eggs and were left with three embryos that seriously needed a happy hour.]
They were considering adoption and donor sperm/eggs last week. Then her period went late.
BOOYA!!!!
Her u/s is Friday. I am shivering with excitement and happiness.
There better be at least one healthy little non-mutant perfect baby in there or I am getting my "DAMN YOU GOD" arm back out again. Don't make me use it. It would serve better use as a Motley Crue'ish "HELL YEAH" fist raise.
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| My first entry.. for lack of better title. |
| 02.10.04 (11:10 am) [edit] |
Oh the agonies of life. To summarize my existence in a nutshell would be difficult. There is too much to truly dwell on one thing. Although I am what clinical ratbastards call a "Recurrent Habitual Aborter", I refuse to let that honor go to my head. I know all the other girls at the happy farm would be jealous if they couldn't have such a marvelous title. Aborter--baby dies. Habitual--terrible habit, should consider a 12-step program. Recurrent--I just keep COMING BACK FOR MORE!
But I digress.
This blog is not exclusively based on this horrible fixation my body has with recurrently aborting my unborn progeny. No. In fact, that's only been the last two years of my life that miscarriage has even been an issue. Before that, I was a fun-loving sprite who "decided" that I would start a family at 30. I insist on laughing at this point [laughter tag]. Oh the gaiety!!
Once more I digress.
Truth in fact: I cannot let this become solely about my adventures in conception. I have too many other stressful issues that often need purging to let that part take over.
Ok, I fight this battle with my inner self on a daily basis. To trash, or not to trash our Holy Diety. I had this long paragraph where I ranted and raved about God being a selfish kidnapper who took my babies because He loved them so much he just had to steal them when I wasn't paying attention. But I deleted it because I am going to be happy and positive this year. I am going to be so happy that people are going to wonder if I am rabid. I find that my inner demons tend to thrive on my woes. My vow: I am NOT going to be one of those happy lala's who say ridiculous things as "things are going to turn out great you watch!!" Because I know that things will eventually turn to shit--but then it will get better. It's how life works. Nothing very good or very bad ever lasts forever. If it is bad, just wait. It WILL get good again (of course it will likely turn bad again soon, but that's the way it is.) That was good advice given to me by my best friend just before she OD'ed on prescription painkillers. R.I.P. Mary.
Bad things happen. But ya know what? The good things are good too. There's too many of those to list.
Brad is one of those things. My husband is my best friend. We rarely fight. We had disagreements or bicker from time to time, but it hardly ever lasts very long and is never more than a few sparks. It's called mutual respect. Too many couples lack it. That's not to say we don't have fire--it's just a better incarnation of fire. Boom-chicka-boom.
Today is our miniversary, by the way. The 10th of every month is a miniversary, namely because everything of great significance takes place on that day for Brad and I. The only time we don't celebrate a miniversary is July 10, since that is our wedding ANNIversary.
Well, there ya have it. Entry One in this experiment called Blogging. I am so damn hip I ooze with hipsteria.
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