On Saturday night, my 20-something cousin fell from the 3rd story of a parking structure at Universal Studios onto concrete. Amazingly, she survived, but she has a long road ahead of her. She’s already had surgery twice, with another scheduled for Thursday and more in the future.
I’m not the praying type, but if you have some good thoughts to spare, she could sure use them.
Meanwhile, the days continue to trickle by. Today is my third day of progesterone, and I’m trying not to slip into the same progesterone fog as last cycle. I have way too much on my plate right now to add hormonal insanity to the mix.
I’ve been trying my hardest to avoid gluten this cycle because I’ve read that gluten and PCOS do not play nicely together. I totally spaced about it over the weekend and had some pita bread with lunch on Friday and Saturday, and yesterday I caved and had half of a breadstick at dinner. I’m feeling incredibly guilty about all of it—like if this cycle fails, it will be the fault of that damn breadstick. It’s ridiculous, because in my heart I know that if gluten was truly going to hinder our attempts at pregnancy, my RE would have given us that warning along with wit her requests that I avoid hot tubs and running.
Distraction has been my best friend, lately. We started watching Orange is the New Black last weekend, and we’re both hooked. We only have two episodes left, and I’m going to be totally sad when we’re done—although the new season starts on June 6th, and we might end up re-starting our Netflix membership JUST for this ridiculous show. We’ll see.
I’m ashamed to admit that my other best distraction at the moment is video bingo on my iPad. Really. Because I am a 75 year old woman trapped in the body of a 32 year old.
Please let this work.