fingers tell the tale

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.