Friday, 31 December 2004

clinically speaking

We have just come back from the 'Intermediate Gynaecology Clinic', where I was given a thorough MOT (with pass certificate) and a scary lecture about the possibility of ectopic pregnancy if ones tubes are blocked. I am being referred to the hospital for some further tests, presumably to see whether or not they are. [sigh]. This could apparently take months - which I am not too fussed about really. Although I have to say that post-coital head-stands don't really engender the closeness that one usually likes to experience after a ride on the carnal carousel.



clinically speaking

We have just come back from the 'Intermediate Gynaecology Clinic', where I was given a thorough MOT (with pass certificate) and a scary lecture about the possibility of ectopic pregnancy if ones tubes are blocked. I am being referred to the hospital for some further tests, presumably to see whether or not they are. [sigh]. This could apparently take months - which I am not too fussed about really. Although I have to say that post-coital head-stands don't really engender the closeness that one usually likes to experience after a ride on the carnal carousel.



Thursday, 30 December 2004

nightmare scenario

And a final christmas comedy moment: B becoming un-nerved by being sniffed by both his wife and his mother-in-law simultaenously. I don't see what's so wierd about it, myself.



nightmare scenario

And a final christmas comedy moment: B becoming un-nerved by being sniffed by both his wife and his mother-in-law simultaenously. I don't see what's so wierd about it, myself.



cheers

We've survived. (Which is actually a ridiculous turn of phrase for me to be applying to a family christmas in light of events on the other side of the world. But I'll leave it in).



We had a good time ... Natalie was clearly making an effort, Ma was really happy that we were getting on and Dad was pleased to see us, although covering it up well with a deep layer of grumpyness.



The two new puppies helped:





Nutmeg and Moss



The first thing I had to do when we arrived was apologise to the man who had come to pick up some christmas flowers ... he was admiring the puppies and writing a cheque when one of them wee'd on his foot. Lovely.



Other events of note:

  1. We have come home with two jars of home-made marmalade, and a quarter each of a pig and a lamb to go in the freezer.
  2. I was attacked by Fabian the Salmon Faverolle cockerel. Bin Laden has apparently calmed down and Fabian has accordingly become more aggressive. I couldn't work out whether he thought I was trying to steal his hens or whether he wanted to add me to his harem. I had to hit him with the feed bucket to get him to let go of my arm ... and then he sneaked round behind me and pecked my arse. At that point I took the opportunity to practice my crowing, and he ran away.
  3. Aunt Edith arrived by bus the day after Boxing Day, thankfully sans dogs and entourage, but with a dilemma. Six weeks ago she adopted an eight year old bearded collie, which has stared displaying behavioural problems. It has clearly been badly treated and is very nervous. And it attacks people. And dogs. Randomly. The warden of Edith's sheltered accommodation has had to go in to hospital for stitches, it has gone for several other people on the complex and the residents committee has finally told her that she must get rid of it. She doesn't want to send it back to the kennels. She is talking about moving house, but realistically can't afford it. Aunt Flora rang Ma before Edith arrived to ask her if she could talk some sense in to E, as E has been crying solidly for a fortnight. The dog has to go ... E is eighty three and it is likely to pull her over, apart from anything else. And what if it attacks a child? So the options are rather limited ... find someone to take the dog on, with the understanding that, whatever the cause, it is vicious. Or have it destroyed ... which is possibly kinder than sending it back to the kennels to be passed from pillar to post until it DOES hurt someone badly. I spent the day before we came home looking for Bearded Collie Rescue contacts online and have compiled a list for Ma and E to phone. Haven't heard yet whether they had any success though.
So all in all, a jolly family christmas. We are already mulling over what we want to do next year so that we don't get backed in to a corner by other people's expectations.





cheers

We've survived. (Which is actually a ridiculous turn of phrase for me to be applying to a family christmas in light of events on the other side of the world. But I'll leave it in).



We had a good time ... Natalie was clearly making an effort, Ma was really happy that we were getting on and Dad was pleased to see us, although covering it up well with a deep layer of grumpyness.



The two new puppies helped:





Nutmeg and Moss



The first thing I had to do when we arrived was apologise to the man who had come to pick up some christmas flowers ... he was admiring the puppies and writing a cheque when one of them wee'd on his foot. Lovely.



Other events of note:

  1. We have come home with two jars of home-made marmalade, and a quarter each of a pig and a lamb to go in the freezer.
  2. I was attacked by Fabian the Salmon Faverolle cockerel. Bin Laden has apparently calmed down and Fabian has accordingly become more aggressive. I couldn't work out whether he thought I was trying to steal his hens or whether he wanted to add me to his harem. I had to hit him with the feed bucket to get him to let go of my arm ... and then he sneaked round behind me and pecked my arse. At that point I took the opportunity to practice my crowing, and he ran away.
  3. Aunt Edith arrived by bus the day after Boxing Day, thankfully sans dogs and entourage, but with a dilemma. Six weeks ago she adopted an eight year old bearded collie, which has stared displaying behavioural problems. It has clearly been badly treated and is very nervous. And it attacks people. And dogs. Randomly. The warden of Edith's sheltered accommodation has had to go in to hospital for stitches, it has gone for several other people on the complex and the residents committee has finally told her that she must get rid of it. She doesn't want to send it back to the kennels. She is talking about moving house, but realistically can't afford it. Aunt Flora rang Ma before Edith arrived to ask her if she could talk some sense in to E, as E has been crying solidly for a fortnight. The dog has to go ... E is eighty three and it is likely to pull her over, apart from anything else. And what if it attacks a child? So the options are rather limited ... find someone to take the dog on, with the understanding that, whatever the cause, it is vicious. Or have it destroyed ... which is possibly kinder than sending it back to the kennels to be passed from pillar to post until it DOES hurt someone badly. I spent the day before we came home looking for Bearded Collie Rescue contacts online and have compiled a list for Ma and E to phone. Haven't heard yet whether they had any success though.
So all in all, a jolly family christmas. We are already mulling over what we want to do next year so that we don't get backed in to a corner by other people's expectations.





small pause for thought, please :-(

Re the Indian Ocean tsunami, after you have donated if you are so inclined, read this post from Shot by Both Sides.

small pause for thought, please :-(

Re the Indian Ocean tsunami, after you have donated if you are so inclined, read this post from Shot by Both Sides.

Tuesday, 21 December 2004

hmm ... interesting ...

We have had the results of all our blood-tests and B's other test back. They are all quite normal. No easy solution to our conundrum there then :-(.



I have an appointment with the gynae clinic on the last day of December for some further tests ... I suppose it goes without saying that I'm not thrilled at the prospect. In the meantime we are doing our best to make further tests unnecessary - luckily it is the time of the year for early nights and late mornings :-).



hmm ... interesting ...

We have had the results of all our blood-tests and B's other test back. They are all quite normal. No easy solution to our conundrum there then :-(.



I have an appointment with the gynae clinic on the last day of December for some further tests ... I suppose it goes without saying that I'm not thrilled at the prospect. In the meantime we are doing our best to make further tests unnecessary - luckily it is the time of the year for early nights and late mornings :-).



preparations

I am ready for christmas.



We are spending it with my parents in Somerset.



It's the first time for ten years I have been back ... . The last time, Natalie and I fell out on Christmas Eve, she went off to Terrible Tony's, promised Ma to be home for lunch the next day, didn't arrive, and Ma sobbed all through the meal. The only one who had a good time was my now-deceased 98 year old Granny, who was concentrating on managing her teeth and was therefore oblivious. Dad and I sat there in acute embarrassment and drank far too much cider whilst wishing we were somewhere else.



I swore after that that I would never go back for christmas again.



However ... time is a great healer (they say) and after a decade to let the memories fade, I feel about ready to try again. B is a very calming influence on everyone, and also, Natalie doesn't misbehave in front of him ... so hopefully it will be a pleasant few days. The main reason that we feel that we need to visit is that Pa isn't very well. Every time we go down he is more frail and I would very much like to spend a christmas at home with him.



We are leaving on Friday and have already gathered together the following necessities:

  • Presents
  • Wellington boots
  • Waterproofs
  • Shovel and sleeping bag to go in the car
  • Fleece pyjamas
  • Bed socks
  • Pillows - Ma's are very old feather ones and full of dust
  • Rescue remedy
  • Secret stash of booze - Ma doesn't really drink and Pa is on so many tablets he isn't allowed to.

Wish us luck.





preparations

I am ready for christmas.



We are spending it with my parents in Somerset.



It's the first time for ten years I have been back ... . The last time, Natalie and I fell out on Christmas Eve, she went off to Terrible Tony's, promised Ma to be home for lunch the next day, didn't arrive, and Ma sobbed all through the meal. The only one who had a good time was my now-deceased 98 year old Granny, who was concentrating on managing her teeth and was therefore oblivious. Dad and I sat there in acute embarrassment and drank far too much cider whilst wishing we were somewhere else.



I swore after that that I would never go back for christmas again.



However ... time is a great healer (they say) and after a decade to let the memories fade, I feel about ready to try again. B is a very calming influence on everyone, and also, Natalie doesn't misbehave in front of him ... so hopefully it will be a pleasant few days. The main reason that we feel that we need to visit is that Pa isn't very well. Every time we go down he is more frail and I would very much like to spend a christmas at home with him.



We are leaving on Friday and have already gathered together the following necessities:

  • Presents
  • Wellington boots
  • Waterproofs
  • Shovel and sleeping bag to go in the car
  • Fleece pyjamas
  • Bed socks
  • Pillows - Ma's are very old feather ones and full of dust
  • Rescue remedy
  • Secret stash of booze - Ma doesn't really drink and Pa is on so many tablets he isn't allowed to.

Wish us luck.





Wednesday, 1 December 2004

nothing to see here ...

A couple of years ago we decided that we'd quite like to have a family. So we stopped using contraception, continued doing the wild thing at every available opportunity and waited to see what would happen.



Nothing has, apart from some fantastic hormone-related mood swings, which I can recommend to anyone as a relationship strengthener in the early years of a marriage.



So. We have some choices to make:

  1. We could keep trundling along as we are and see what happens, and face the possibility that nothing might, ever.
  2. We could have some tests to see what, if anything, is wrong, and see if anything can be done to fix it.
  3. We could adopt.
We have decided that although we would like to have a child/children of our own, we are not irrevocably tied in to the idea. Also, I am not in favour of IVF, because I feel that there are enough unwanted children around without the health service spending £3,000 a pop on trying to conceive more. No one has a right to have children at the expense of the rest of society. I don't like the idea of medical intervention as a general rule and we want a FAMILY rather than a baby. We are therefore kicking around the idea of adopting a group of siblings.



Before we do that though, we have decided that we need to get some tests done to see whether there is any chance at all of us conceiving ourselves, and make an informed decision in light of that. We've been putting it off though, partly because of pressure of work and partly because of reluctance to face facts.



We finally went to see our lovely GP on Monday, who has referred us for the first round of tests. These are very straightforward and mostly blood tests. However ... B has to provide a 'sample' to see how enthusiastic his, er, contribution to the process is.



I was expecting a whole 'seedy room with some well-thumbed magazines' scenario at the lab, but apparently one produces the sample at home and then rushes it in for analysis. The sample has to be at the lab at most an hour after it is produced.



The lab is at the local hospital about six miles away. I phoned them to clarify the details and ask for directions and all the receptionist was able to tell me was that it was 'on the right side of the hospital down an access road with no name'. We did consider parking up outside and producing a really fresh specimen for them, however, the possiblity of getting arrested stopped us ... but no wonder the GP's receptionist gave us two bottles:

Me: Er, do we need a container for THIS PARTICULAR TEST (waves sheet filled in by GP to request test at her).

Receptionist: Let me have a look ... oh, yes, you will, won't you. (Rummages under desk in drawers for about five minutes. Queue behind us becomes increasingly restive, whilst B and I stifle giggles.)

Receptionist: (Triumphally waving small jar) Here you are! I knew I had some! (Produces another jar ... and another). Here! Have another one!

Me: What, in case he misses the first one?

B: (Mutters, offended) ... I might make enough to fill two ...

Receptionist: Make sure you keep it warm!

B and I: (In unison, leaving) Thank you very much!

Receptionist: Good luck!
I felt that the entire waiting room was poised to give us a round of applause.



B is characteristically sanguine about the whole thing. I am quite stressed. I have to take my temperature every morning and plot it on a chart to see whether I'm ovulating or not - when the temperature goes up by at least half a degree centigrade and STAYS up, I know I've ovulated.



If these tests find nothing wrong, we get referred on to the fertility clinic and things start to get a bit more invasive if we want to proceed. I don't. I am certain I don't.



We have written away for more information about adopting from the BAAF and subscribed to Be My Parent to get more of a feel for what is going on.



And we have told R that we will be in to work late tomorrow, and why ... we think timing the 'lab dash' just after rush hour will give us as much time as possible to find the lab before the clock counts us out. We should have done a trial run today, but things got in the way ... and B is off on tour again tomorrow night.



Better get an early night I suppose ....



nothing to see here ...

A couple of years ago we decided that we'd quite like to have a family. So we stopped using contraception, continued doing the wild thing at every available opportunity and waited to see what would happen.



Nothing has, apart from some fantastic hormone-related mood swings, which I can recommend to anyone as a relationship strengthener in the early years of a marriage.



So. We have some choices to make:

  1. We could keep trundling along as we are and see what happens, and face the possibility that nothing might, ever.
  2. We could have some tests to see what, if anything, is wrong, and see if anything can be done to fix it.
  3. We could adopt.
We have decided that although we would like to have a child/children of our own, we are not irrevocably tied in to the idea. Also, I am not in favour of IVF, because I feel that there are enough unwanted children around without the health service spending £3,000 a pop on trying to conceive more. No one has a right to have children at the expense of the rest of society. I don't like the idea of medical intervention as a general rule and we want a FAMILY rather than a baby. We are therefore kicking around the idea of adopting a group of siblings.



Before we do that though, we have decided that we need to get some tests done to see whether there is any chance at all of us conceiving ourselves, and make an informed decision in light of that. We've been putting it off though, partly because of pressure of work and partly because of reluctance to face facts.



We finally went to see our lovely GP on Monday, who has referred us for the first round of tests. These are very straightforward and mostly blood tests. However ... B has to provide a 'sample' to see how enthusiastic his, er, contribution to the process is.



I was expecting a whole 'seedy room with some well-thumbed magazines' scenario at the lab, but apparently one produces the sample at home and then rushes it in for analysis. The sample has to be at the lab at most an hour after it is produced.



The lab is at the local hospital about six miles away. I phoned them to clarify the details and ask for directions and all the receptionist was able to tell me was that it was 'on the right side of the hospital down an access road with no name'. We did consider parking up outside and producing a really fresh specimen for them, however, the possiblity of getting arrested stopped us ... but no wonder the GP's receptionist gave us two bottles:

Me: Er, do we need a container for THIS PARTICULAR TEST (waves sheet filled in by GP to request test at her).

Receptionist: Let me have a look ... oh, yes, you will, won't you. (Rummages under desk in drawers for about five minutes. Queue behind us becomes increasingly restive, whilst B and I stifle giggles.)

Receptionist: (Triumphally waving small jar) Here you are! I knew I had some! (Produces another jar ... and another). Here! Have another one!

Me: What, in case he misses the first one?

B: (Mutters, offended) ... I might make enough to fill two ...

Receptionist: Make sure you keep it warm!

B and I: (In unison, leaving) Thank you very much!

Receptionist: Good luck!
I felt that the entire waiting room was poised to give us a round of applause.



B is characteristically sanguine about the whole thing. I am quite stressed. I have to take my temperature every morning and plot it on a chart to see whether I'm ovulating or not - when the temperature goes up by at least half a degree centigrade and STAYS up, I know I've ovulated.



If these tests find nothing wrong, we get referred on to the fertility clinic and things start to get a bit more invasive if we want to proceed. I don't. I am certain I don't.



We have written away for more information about adopting from the BAAF and subscribed to Be My Parent to get more of a feel for what is going on.



And we have told R that we will be in to work late tomorrow, and why ... we think timing the 'lab dash' just after rush hour will give us as much time as possible to find the lab before the clock counts us out. We should have done a trial run today, but things got in the way ... and B is off on tour again tomorrow night.



Better get an early night I suppose ....