There’s a certain art form in the all you can eat buffet. Whether it’s Chinese or all-American, the objective is the same: load as much as you can on one plate the first trip through; pot stickers on top of rice on top of General Tso’s, next to teriyaki chicken and chicken fingers and spicy broccoli. Forget the fact that you can go back up as many times as you want; that first plate is the most important, a source of pride.
I’m used to carrying around a relatively small plate. Chicken fingers and pot stickers, max. However, recently I’ve been expected to also pile some fried rice on to that plate. Luckily, rice is small and can filter down into all the nooks and crannies between the chicken. But when I was asked to include some sushi, it went rolling all over and on to the floor, a huge mess. Luckily someone also then handed me a bigger plate. This one’s the size of a turkey platter and it can hold a lot, but it gets awful heavy. And I know that someday, it will be too full and someone will break out the pizza pan-sized plate and expect me to be able to handle it. I just have to hope that someone else will be there to help me carry it.
Okay, so I’ve probably taken that metaphor as far as it will go. My point is this: I have a lot on my mental/emotional plate right now. The everyday, not-so-stressful stresses like marriage, family, and work have been expanded upon. Marriage now includes not just trying to get pregnant, but infertility. Family includes a grandmother with advanced metastatic cancer. And work includes a handful of people who think I don’t know how to do my job. Luckily I have a husband who is supportive and willing to do what he can to help carry the load. Sometimes I just wish he (or anyone!) would carry all of it, which I realize is completely unfair, because he has is own load to carry.
Tomorrow I have an appointment with my RE, a follow-up to see how I’m responding to the Metformin. I have a list of questions as long as my arm about what the next steps will be, and I’m actually pretty anxious about the whole thing. It doesn’t seem that I’m ovulating on Met, and I’m afraid she’ll want to wait another 3 months or so before taking the next step (Clomid). I’m hoping she’ll at least give me some Provera so I can start a fresh cycle, as I’m currently on day 49.
Tomorrow is also my grandmother’s appointment with her team of doctors. The oncologists and brain surgeons will tell her exactly what she has and give her treatment options, if there are any. I’d say 80% of my current stress is about that. I just don’t know what we’ll do if there are no treatment options.
So today when my coworker decided to have an attitude with me, I lost my shit. Now we’re both just plugging away, trying to avoid confrontation as much as possible. Sometimes you just need to have some time to yourself (even if it’s only so you don’t kill someone).
