What was I saying? Oh, yes: Jeebus Cripes. Got a call from Freedom Pharmacy a few hours ago and am starting to doubt whether I heard them correctly. Could it really be eleven vials of Follistim and six of Gonal-F? And why again am I getting both? And what were the other five items on the order? Oh...what was it...I'm supposed to mix one of them with something else, right? Maybe the Gonal-F gets mixed with the Repronex, and the Follistim gets poked in on its own? And which one in the morning, which one at night? But there were two at night...Lupron, maybe?...but that one starts first...is that the one that goes in my thigh fat?...and what about the antibiotics?...oh, Jeebus Cripes, I'd better call the IVF coordinator and get it all figured out. Or maybe open the big orange folder where she put the instructions and the calendar.
But I can't open the folder yet. Fearful of the folder. Scary forms to sign; what to do with frozen bits if I die, dangers of organs being damaged by drugs...not ready yet. Maybe after some beer. Can drink beer this week. Highlight of week. Can you sense brain rot caused by fear of the folder?
*Whichever of you beautiful bloggers came up with the above phrase, please know that I worship it and use it in every other sentence, i.e. Jeebus Cripes, J., did you drink up all the Lactaid again? Hope you don't mind the blatant plagiarism and will consider it, instead, the sincerest form of flattery.