Period of Apocalypse

So, Tim and I went to SA yesterday for my doctor's appointment. Yesterday, Sunday, we were blessed to be able to celebrate Granny's 90th birthday. Her birthday's not technically until Thursday, but we wouldn't be in town then. Daddy took us all to Olive Garden a "fancy" place in Granny's terms. He took us there not only to get Granny in a fancy place, but to introduce us to the assistant manager of all the culinary staff...his new girlfriend. I was so happy for him. Since my parents divorced, he's dated a couple, but usually not more than one date. Now they're "going steady". I asked him if he gave her his high school ring. It's too cute.

Now on to the fun purpose of the trip: THE DOCTOR VISIT.
I don't ovulate. It seems like ever. "Just because you don't have an egg, doesn't mean there's nothing to bleed out," saith the doctor. I admit, she knows her stuff and she's willing to help. I gave her a long list of family history, a journal of everything that has happened since I went off the birth control pills, and a plea for help. She addressed most all of my questions without me even having to ask them. She had lots of blood work done, which is an adventure in and of itself because of my lovingly uncooperative blood veins. Four sticks, two in the wrist. Enough said. At any rate, she is running a pregnancy test (to free herself from liability, I'm sure. I'm not pregnant). Once I get the results of that, I will turn in my prescription for Provera to induce an honest-to-God-gonna-ovulate-for-real period. She warned me: THIS WILL HURT LIKE A BITCH. Except, she didn't use those exact words. Birth control pills just mask everything and don't really help it. I haven't had a real period in 8 years. I haven't had a progesterone induced period in 14 years. This will be the worst menstrual cycle in the history of ever for me. She told me to be prepared, and she told Tim to be nice to me. He walked into that comment when he asked, "Is there anything I can do to help her pain at all?" He tries. He really does. I couldn't have asked for a better more supportive guy. He's nervous though. We've got to test his swimmers. I'm nervous for him.
After I start my period, then I call the doc and get an appointment set up for a something-or-other. I don't remember the name of it. Basically, I get to have dye injected into my uterus and x-rayed to see if my Fallopian tubes are obstructed. Having endometriosis could possibly cause that. I hope not. Aside from that, I have other scar tissue to worry about because of the bastard who took my appendix out. He left a metal clamp that was about an inch long in my abdomen. I carried it around for five years before anyone ever figured out what the heck was wrong with me. It had taken my non-functioning uterus and literally stapled it to my bowel wall over the course of that time. Scar tissue and bile had formed all around it and was getting infected. No wonder I was in so much pain. Five years of carrying that crap around will do it. The kicker? I had had a previous surgery, a laparospcopy (the one that incidentally, diagnosed me with endometriosis), and the clamp was not detected. I'm a little pissed off. I will be absolutely angry if one of my tubes is obstructed. Livid. So, pray for me, people. I need it.
If everything goes well with Tim, and all the tests and crap I have to go through, then I will be put on Glucophage to help the insulin mess and Clomid since my family has a good clean history with that drug. The history of hypothyroidism may come into play. The doctor is definitely testing for that, because if it's a thyroid issue she wants to make sure that's taken care of, too. So now, we wait. And get a menstrual cycle of apocalyptic proportions. The worst thing the doctor had to tell me today was that I'm not going to get any better. I'm just going to get worse. Some women outgrow the hormone issues, some women get better as time goes on. This six-ish months without birth control has confirmed that I will not be getting better. My hormones are stuck in a stasis of "OH MY GOD, THERE IS PMS SYMPTOMS. I WILL MAKE YOU CRANKY FOREVER AND HUUURT. Then, nothing to show for it. I've kept a careful diary of everything since I went off the pills. They're just stuck. Stuck. Stuck. Stuck. No progesterone, no nothing. They hate me. But, the doc said she can force me to ovulate, and we will go from there.  I will have my babies, then come what may, probably a full hysterectomy. I do have this to say: My babies will be so LOVED when they get here.

I am to stick with Weight Watchers at all times. She knows it's hard, she knows it's tough, she knows I'm committed. 9 weeks at WW and I've lost all of nothing. The two pounds I lost have been gained back with this pseudo-PMS crap I'm going through. It's really a royal pain in the ass. I'm trying hard, though. I'm trying so hard. Though, when I asked what a good goal weight was, she scared me. "For your size, you need to be less than 140lb." I stared at her wide-eyed and Tim looked spooked. I replied that even WW said for my height and body type I need to be in the 170-180 range. She looked confused then read my chart again. "Ooooooh, that's my mistake! You're sitting down, and I misread it. I was thinking you were only five feet tall! I forgot you're over 6'!" We got that cleared up, which was really funny. So, yeah, no ana/mia conventions for me.

Tonight, I am exhausted both physically and mentally and emotionally. I will sleep soon, and hopefully be able to fill out my prescriptions tomorrow and get this party started.

Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star...

How I wonder what you are. Up above the world so high, like a diamond in the sky...

It's been a while since I updated. Been busy, or apathetic, you choose. I don't care which. In the time since I last wrote in this thingy, I've been to a wedding (yay!), taken midterms (un-yay), and written a biology lap report (also, un-yay). I've been trucking along on my weight-loss journey, getting even more frustrated. PCOS is not an easy disease to deal with, physically and emotionally. It slows down weight loss horrendously. In the 7-8 weeks I've been on Weight Watchers, I've lost a grand total of 3 pounds. On average (don't you love that phrase? I don't), most people who stick to the program have lost at least 3 times that amount, if not more. I can't fault WW for that; they're helping--in tiny increments. Which is still a minor victory, even though it feels like I'm wading through quicksand. Sometimes, I get hopeful. My friend joined WW this weekend, and I went to a Saturday meeting with her to get her started. She's the type who won't go by herself, bless her heart. So, I went, and she's all happy I'm going with her. I don't think she realizes how happy I am I'm going with someone. Someone who can help me and I can help, someone who (hopefully) will poke me and prod me into doing what it is I need to do. Currently, we walk three times per week together with another lady. So, at least I'm up and moving. I'm trying to think what I can do in the meantime, on the days we don't walk. It's not like I don't have enough to do with school work, but schoolwork is not very active. I'm thinking. I'm really hoping my friend sticks with this, not only to help her, but to help me, too. I'm a little bit selfish.

School for next semester promises to be very busy. 15 hours I'm scheduled for at this point. I may try to rearrange some of that in the next few days. I'm classified now as a junior, which is wonderful, because I thought I was still in the freshman/sophomore camp. After this semester, I will have ~50 hours left to complete a degree. Then, with much luck, I will be on to graduate school! Whee! I shall be scholarly and smart and stuff. Maybe not articulate, but at least it will be written on paper that I'm "smart".

I'm both anxious and eager about next week. I go to the doctor for a much anticipated appointment. She told me to go off my birth control pills in June, which I did. I have not had a period since then. She wanted to see what my body would do on its own, with no aid, for at least three months before my appointment. Well, I have a list. A big list. A list that we shall discuss in depth. I'm paying out-of-pocket for these expensive visits, so I'm definitely going to get my money's worth. She's also the type of doctor who cares what you have to say, listens to what you tell her, then makes educated decisions based on her knowledge and what you have told her. She's pretty awesome. I know that she's given hope, and even babies, to many many women with issues like PCOS and endometriosis (I have, coincidentally, been diagnosed with both pains-in-the-ass. A rarity). I have dangerous hope that she can help me.

I'm killing time before I take my Akbash Dog, Tetris, to obedience class at Petsmart. She needs it, as she is the most stubborn dog I have ever had the privilege to own. 'Tis their breed. Currently all my goobers are snoring and cuddled up in various places in this room. Rydia's on her bed. Cu Sidhe's on my bed with her daddy, and Tetris is at my feet, lying on  top of them. Spoiled rotten creatures. If nothing else, I have my furbabies, as lovable and frustrating as they can be. I wouldn't have them any other way, except maybe a little more well-behaved. We're working on that. They're still spoiled though, despite the fact they tell everyone that I starve them and beat them. They're starting to have enough rolls to look like their mama.

Time to kill about 45 more minutes until it's time for Tetris and me to get the heck out of Dodge. Leave some comment love so that I feel validated in my rants and whines and declarations. I know, it's all psychological. But, psychological validation is important, right? Right.