Tuesday, December 14, 2010

Virtual Preggo Eggos and Actual Creaking Knees

It seems like every two to three weeks someone announces they’re preggo on facebook. Most of these people I haven’t seen since high school, and even then we weren’t great friends, but it still hurts to see all the time. Another one of those came yesterday morning. Then yesterday evening I was watching one of my regular shows and one of the main characters found out she was pregnant. She and her somewhat estranged husband had been trying for maybe a month or two, and I’m thinking the “session” that got her knocked up was (impromptu and awkward in a boat house!) a kinda angry make up sex thing, she thought, and a whatever kind of thing in his mind. I think... it’s all very confusing. Anyways, I totally know that these are fictional characters and none of it is real, but I absolutely LOST IT as I was watching.

It got me thinking how often that really happens… plan to have a baby (or not!), have sex whenever they feel like it for a few months, sometimes only once or twice, then BAM… it happens. When for so many other people, they have to deal with medical conditions getting the way, plan their lives around fertile times, obsess about when to have sex, how often is too often or it not happening often enough, etc. It just stinks that it’s so difficult for some people. I’m still angry that it didn’t work so easily for us. I know I sound like a broken record.

Onto other things. I’m out of the study I was in… apparently I wasn’t depressed or suicidal enough for it. But I’m into another for moderate depression now. I’m guaranteed the actual drug for twelve weeks, then I’ll either stay on it or get a placebo for the rest of the trial, the decision of which is completely random and neither I nor the doctor will know which I’m taking. Sounds so freaky.

Oh, and they told me my cholesterol is high. How freakin old am I?! My back hurts, my knees creak when I squat down, I can’t hear sometimes, I need to get a stronger prescription for my reading glasses, and now I have to eat a shit-ton of oatmeal. Seriously, on paper I could pass for 57 instead of 27.

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