At school this year, all the kids were using the phrase “cray cray” to mean “crazy.” (As in, “Amanda is cray cray for dating Brian. He’s so gross.”). Well, the past 12 hours are putting me in the cray cray category.
If you follow this blog, you might know that I had a little injection freak out last night. Cetrotide is meant to keep you from ovulating early, and I lost a bit of it out the top of the needle in a freak squirting.
This was followed by hours of me perseverating over the issue. Numerous texts with Sister, RN… who did not jump right away to saying it was fine, but who did ultimately make be feel better. A mention to R, who had no patience for my anxiety and worry and immediately called me cray cray. Ok, to be fair, he did not say “cray cray,” but that was the implication. There was a fight and there was yelling and there were tears. How could he be so insensitive?!? And then there was an apology and fro-yo … and we put it behind us.
Last night, there were also lots of cramps. The kind that show on your face. My tummy was tender, bloated, and crampy. These feelings had been coming on throughout the afternoon and they intensified in the evening. I felt good about it because I’m thinking, “everything is working as it should.”
Then this morning I woke up, and I FEEL NOTHING. The bloat has even gone down. I can sit on the floor with my dog without cringing. No cramps. No heaviness. Nada. Yesterday I was overjoyed that I didn’t have to teach aerobics; today I feel like I could go for a run, comfortably. How can I feel nothing on Day 7 (especially when yesterday things were so intense?) WTF?!!
So of course I get right on the train for Crazy-Town and start thinking the worst: surely I must have ovulated and the cramps last night were not things growing and working, but ovulation cramps. And all of my front runners are released and done, and this cycle is going to be a bust. Maybe I am “cray cray” because I can not help my mind from going there.
And of course I don’t have my next appointment until tomorrow morning. And I can’t talk to R who lectured me last night about worrying too much and looking for problems. And I’m not the type to call my doctor and demand to be seen. (I’m just not…)
So for the next 24 hours, even though I will do my darnedest to distract myself, I’m going to be cray cray and there’s nothing that I can do about it.