I just got my giant box of needles with a side of medication in the mail today, and for some reason this has made me crabby as hell. I am angry. Seriously angry.
Angry at the universe for having to go through this. Angry at insurance companies for not covering treatment. Angry at myself for being unable to do this the fun, inexpensive way.
Honestly, though, I would not trade my husband for anything, and it’s definitely not my fault that we didn’t meet until I was already in my mid-thirties. Not his fault, either. Nor could either one of us control the blood clot that put me on Coumadin, and off of trying to get pregnant, for a full year.
I wonder sometimes where we’d be if it wasn’t for that intervening medical issue. Where I’d be. It’s certainly a smack in the face to wake up in ICU being told your condition is very serious. Though in all honesty, I missed the very serious part. Pain killers. John heard it, but no one really filled me in for another week or so. Really shook me when it finally sank in.
Now I’m just… sad. I feel like I might have missed getting in through a closing door by having to set so much aside for that year. I want this so badly, but I am so afraid to hope because I don’t want to hurt. I already hurt enough.
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