call me snarkypants

Three unrelated items.

From the “you know you know too much” files:

I picked up a textbook on Infertility from the Medical School section of the campus bookstore, randomly opened the book to a sample patient history for a patient who likely has PCOS, and began seething at how long the suggested protocol (suggested, in the textbook, that teaches doctors) would take to actually diagnose (let alone treat) the problem, and how their basic set of suggested tests (TSH and prolactin only, apparently - WTF is up with that?) were so severly lacking in useful diagnostic information. (The suggested protocol? Try Clomid for a while, and if that doesn’t work then you should add in Metformin. Riiiiight. That’s a lovely plan.) 

After dumping the book back on the shelf, I stormed away, muttering and grumbling about how it's no surprise that so many doctors don't have a clue about PCOS.  Sheesh. (J wanted to know if I had made some helpful corrections in the margins of the book. I did not. But I know where the book is...)

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I saw NPF yesterday, and was secretly pleased to note that she’s not looking perfect. She’s fine, and I don’t wish any baby scares or weird illnesses on her or anything at all, but it was mildly satisfying to note that things aren’t entirely perfect in NPF world (even though sometimes it looks like they are). Here’s the thing: she didn’t look great in her maternity dress. It made her hips look weird. She’s probably having trouble finding maternity clothes that are comfortable, appropriate for work, and suit her style. And I think maybe she’s between sizes (so she’s wearing clothes that will still fit in a month or two.) But still, it was just the tiniest bit satisfying.

There was something else I was gloating about, too, but then karma lept up and made me stop. (It was an uncomfortable but noncritical side-effect, and then I got something similar last night.) So I’ll stick with the clothing thing. It’s okay with me if when I get pregnant I don’t look perfect in my maternity clothes either, karmically. I never really thought I would, so it’s not going to be much of a sacrifice.

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Lest I forget, I’ve been tagged (thanks Jenn!)

THE RULES:
1. Go into your archive.
2. Find your 23rd post.
3. Find the fifth sentence.
4. Post the text of the sentence in your blog along with these instructions.
5. Tag five people to do the same.

The fifth line of my 23rd post is

Um.

That’s it. Pretty boring, eh?

Actually, it was a stretch to even get to the fifth sentence - I had to count the title. Here, for your reading pleasure, is my 23rd post, in its entirety.

Monday, February 14, 2005
Thank you universe. I think.

It’s Valentine’s Day, and I have what looks like EWCM.

And we’re at my in-laws’ house, in a room that shares a wall with my BIL.

Um.

Valentine’s Day cervical mucus. How romantic (and naive). Ah, the good old days.

I’m too lazy to keep track of who has done this and who hasn’t, so if you haven’t, and you want to, consider yourself tagged.