Another test this morning confirmed no pregnancy. Which shouldn't have been a punch in the face because I knew it would be negative. I got a negative two days ago. But it still felt like a punch in the face.
Then I got a call today at work from the NIH Study in Baltimore. This study - all about Premature Ovarian Insufficiency (as they politically correctly call it... failure is such a downer), would have me stay for three nights at a hospital in Baltimore, where I would get a bone density scan, karyotyping, alllll kinds of blood work, etc. FOR FREE to try to figure out a) why I have this condition and b) the factors that impact the chances of women with the condition getting pregnant.
I would just have to pay for the flight to Baltimore. I have been so excited about this study ever since I heard about it in the Spring. It would be a way to get some answers. And a plan. And I already pre-qualified and was just waiting until September because they were undergoing some "protocol changes."
I learned on the phone today that "protocol changes" means they've done away with the whole effing study. It's turned into a series of phone consults in which they tell me about the condition and how to live with it and manage it in a healthy way. No tests. No Baltimore. No doctors. No answers.
It was just the second punch in the face I needed today to totally lose my shit. At work. In the middle of the day. I managed to grab my gym bag and mumble "going for a workout" to my student worker before high-tailing it out of the office to have a good cry.
The cry helped. The workout helped too. You guys helped. Having a trip to Mexico on the horizon (um, next Saturday! How did that happen?!?) also helped. Having a couple of beers tonight will probably help. I'll be okay.
I also need to update a smidge late on Stupid Stork's Manly Monday. Here's some more info on my beloved Champ.
- When he gets drunk, he grows equally large amounts of disorientation and confidence. This leads to some rather hilarious situations, such as him providing wildly incorrect driving directions (that you have no choice but to follow because he sounds so daggone confident!) and explaining complex directions that make no sense. There was one time that he had each member of my family simultaneously calling the cell phone of a different family member (all at the same time, in the same room). No rhyme or reason to that. He cannot recall the purpose of this experiment.
Champ is pretty tall (6'1") and pretty skinny (155 lbs) and he has the longest, weirdest toes ever. He has long limbs all around, but his second toe is as long or longer than my pinky finger. Look at your pinky finger now. My husband's toe is probably longer than it. I submit the following picture into evidence. Please note the toes in the background.:
That's all I have for today. Thanks again for the support!!