The Chinese herbs aren't working. I messaged my RE last thursday and have heard radio silence. I called her nurse coordinator this morning, and so far nothing. Should it be this difficult to reach a doctor? (Rhetorical question y'all).
My therapist and I had a nice long talk on Saturday about my anger with the medical establishment. And came to the rousing conclusion that my hatred of doctors and consequent PTSD every time I have to trudge into one of their offices is hardly irrational. I mean COME ON.
On other fronts, did you know I turned 41 last week? Yeah, happy fucking birthday to me. I bought myself some jewelry.
Niblet is silver. The rose gold rings represent my miscarriages. The yellow gold is for Celine. I am running out of room on my third finger. The stark visualization left my therapist - a woman mind you, who often works with women with fertility problems - at a loss for words.
You and me both, sister.