I am watching Masterchef. It has become ridiculous. Getting amateur chefs to make sugar balloons to suspend an icecream (sorry, semifreddo) in thin air. I may sound churlish here but I really don't see the point.
Oh who am I kidding. I would be all over the chocolatey, Icecreamy goodness.
Speaking of which, I had a life-changingly good chocolate gelato at Zero Gradi with a mate last night.
I've been a bit dead on the blog recently. I know. It's all very same-old.
I have just heard of a GP colleague who has won a major literary award, one that launches careers. And I think "good on her". And I think that it is time that I start writing again. Just writing, without worrying that I am not bringing the everyday to life as well as my mates SSG and FF.
Writing without judgement. Maybe some doodling (drawing) without judgement?
My life is the same. Work. A bit of Research. All the crossfit. Nothing particularly interesting. I guess that this is the reason why I have stopped writing.
Nobody will want to hear that I got THREE PBs THE WEEK BEFORE LAST!!
(50kg bench, 45kg CNJ, 32.5kg snatch). My Double-Unders have gone AWOL. I can jump on a 20 inch sinking foam box but I still get scared, my pull-up is edging closer and closer. I can latch my feet and arms around a hanging rope and shimmy up a little bit but not that far. I have a bruise on my inner thigh from attempting this.
Also edging closer is the IVF. Late next month. Next cycle I start getting shot up with hormones like a dodgy dairy cow. I am worried about the effects on my mood - my luteal phase sends me cray cray at the best of times, I worry what the hormonal peaks and troughs will do to my brain. The IVF therapists seem to play this down. There are plenty of other things that are vexing about the process - the attrition of the gametes/conceptus, the waiting, the driving, the ultrasounds. Et Cetera.
Still, I'm strapped in. For one round, anyway.
The embryo will be tested for genetic abnormalities, and frozen awaiting the results. So while the cells are on ice, I am going away. We are heading to Bali (Canggu, it has a Crossfit box) and then I am turning around and going off to Arizona for an update in Cardiology for generalists. Nice surrounds, near the Grand Canyon, I get to fly at the pointy end of the plane, and I don't have to get my juniors to explain all the new fangled tests and interventions to me. A distraction. Then back in to get the winning blastocysts shot in, and fingers crossed one of the winners happily and firmly and healthily and properly embeds itself in my endometrium. But that's another round of uncertainty. I will cross that bridge when I come to it.
It's frustrating, not being able to plan things. Still, I have a good knack for making the best of the uncertain situation, don't you agree? Bali! Arizona! Yeah!
I have let go of a few things that are a bit stressful. Taken a step back from people who have that effect on me. Put some work things into perspective and adopted a "que sera, sera" approach. There are stressors that remain, apart from the IVF.
One of my entourage (sounds much better than "my psychiatrist") pointed out that A. I might be lacking a little bit in the close supports department and B. I am also pretty shit at asking for help. It's true that generally I am more comfortable in the caring role than the one being cared for, but now and in the future, I have to see my way to mobilising those supports I do have. I have some gorgeous friends who live close. One of my friends suggested a "safe word" to send out the distress signal. We were eating gelato so we thought that "gelato" might be a good safe word.
I also need to moderate my social media use (I have already unfollowed a few mummies). I need to read good books and see good movies. Nice, funny ones. Not "Bridget Jones' Baby". That shit set me off, big time. Cried all over my dinner.