Warning: this post contains far too much information about bodily functions. If your are eating or have a delicate constitution stop reading now.
There is a chance you might experience this reaction to the words following.
Still here? Enjoy a little potty humor? Great!
So here’s a little run down of funny and gross things which have happened to me this week:
The nurse at my clinic, who amuses herself by teasing me, was showing me and WW (in Thai) how to insert a vajayjay pill with her hands (I mean she made her hands the vajayjay- not that she was using her hands in any other fashion!). This helpful instructions was happening at the payment desk in the middle of the clinic where all the other Thai patients are openly staring at the young(ish) white girl with a distinct lack of penis-wielding husband. I didn’t really mind, I lost my modesty several dildocams ago. I got from her hand movements and WW’s slightly embarrassed translation that it was important that I aim in and down, rather than just in so my snatch doesn’t quickly regurgitate the slimy bullet*. She smiled sweetly and asked in English if I would like a proper demonstration.
WW and I have been having some issues figuring out the 1530295 different pills etc I am currently using. My pills come in packets with instructions in Thai which are not always up to date with my current protocol. After returning home from a 5 hour round trip to the clinic WW told me that one set of pills must be choked down twice a day, morning and nighttime. Wrong. Two in the morning and two at night, she realized the next day. I took it in my stride, what difference does one little pill make? Then after dinner (roti and a slice of American processed cheese, a kitkat and a small packet of sugar jellies**. Don’t judge me. Ok, go ahead and judge- the healthy eating thing is not without its bumps in the road) I dutifully gobbled a thousand pills. About 20 minutes later I had the hot poo rain pouring out of my bum (swallow that vomit, I warned you this would be TMI). I guess my body is taking the matter of healthy eating into its own hands. Oh no, did this mean all those pills took a fast track through my digestive system and into the toilet bowl without doing its job? Should I take more? Should I scare myself by consulting Dr Google? WW’s sensibleness won out and I did nothing. Fingers crossed there are no lasting consequences from my carb/fat/sugar indulgence.
If you are breathing a sigh of relief that the grossness is over, don’t. There is more to come.
Later last night, after the unpleasant toilet business and mild anxiety attack we were curled in bed watching my new TV addiction, Call the Midwife, when I ran my fingers through my hair.
‘Teerak, what’s that?’ I asked pulling something crunchy out of my hair and praying it wasn’t part of a living creature.
‘I don’t know. Glue?” Not an unusual find when you spend your days
playing with teaching kindergarten kids.
A closer examination by me revealed it was not glue or a squashed bug but in fact the aftermath of my beach holiday. Big chunks of my scalp were flaking off after sunburn.
WW and I spend far too much time together and have crossed most lines when it comes to over-sharing. She stuck by me through my stinky, gassy stimulation. She has seen me tend to my bikini line in the shower (if men imagine this is a sexy sight they are wrong, at least the way I do it). She has had to help me on and off the toilet and shower me when I have been incapacitated by my back (true love, eh?). But even this made her gip a little.
OK, I think I’m done with the disgusting parts of me week. Aren’t you glad I’m sure an open, sharing blogger?
In other news I am finally almost over my cold (I bet you’re relieved, huh?) but I still feel maudlin. I’m not sure if it’s the lasting effect of the cold or the bullets or I’m just lazy. I have zero energy and less motivation. I am blogging at work when I should be preparing. You know when you have a point in your day when you decided that you are not going to be productive anymore? Mine started at 6.45am. I am trying to avoid Dr Googling my symptoms.
I will have rare time alone at home this afternoon as WW is in the city being nursemaid to GBF whose ‘intestines keep wanting to hang out with his balls’ (his words). The poor bugger is being sliced apart with his second hernia operation in a year. WW is a much nicer and more caring person than I am so she’s gone to help him out of hospital and get him set up at home while I pretend to be busy with Important Things at work.
She wont be back when I finish in three hours so I’ll be at a loose end. Trying hard not to think about how are wee eggos are getting on. I wont hear anything until Saturday at lunchtime. Big thanks in the meantime to Barren Betty, Fertility Doll and Dogsaren’tkids for sarcastic and witty posts to keep me occupied in the meantime. Check them out if you like your infertility with a side of humor.
*Vajayjay bullets don’t come cheap. Chalk up another 80 GBP to the every growing IVF costs.
** Halloween is gaining popularity in Thailand. I made WW take me out and buy sweets in case any kids came
begging trick or treating. Of course no one came so I started eating the sweets myself. Nom nom nom.