When my uterus is angry, it makes me almost immobile. My back hurts so badly that it's difficult to stand up straight. It's like back labor, only with no end in sight and no reward in the form of a baby. Pretty much the only reward is is ruined clothes, because that isn't embarrassing when you're 37 years old. To give you an idea, on a scale from 1-10 I'd rate labor a 6. I'd rate these cramps easily a 5. It's crazy. And the bleeding? It's like nothing I can describe. I've actually had a uterine hemorrhage, so I know where of I speak, and it's approaching that level. It's worse with movement. That pretty much kills running, yoga, or CrossFit...for 7-10 days a month. Yup, the whole awful experience lasts 10-12 days with 7-10 of those being so bad that moving around makes me afraid I'm going to leave a puddle of murder scene on the floor. Or, you know, get chased by wolves or sharks or some shit. Oh, and Ibuprofen no longer works to keep it in check.
Last night I walked into a firestorm at work. On top of my already stellar mood. So I took my lunch card down to the cafeteria and got myself some deep fried cheese to cheer myself up. I have to say, it did work.
Gods, these are good.
Meh. It was free.
And that was it except for some rice rollers and Sunbutter when I got home.
I took the dog for a short walk (1 mile-blah) since she was fairly peppy when I got home, and then I went to bed. I slept badly and woke up earlier than I wanted. My back hurt so much that it was hard to get up. I put on my sloppiest, shittiest sweats and went downstairs. Lucy and I commiserated about our mutual feminine problems and she slept on my belly while I tried to sleep in the chair. She's kind of like a furry hot water bottle, so it helped some.
Then I went to Walgreens and spent a small fortune on feminine hygiene products. I shouldn't have to buy that shit in bulk. And I buy the ones that are maximum plastic and pretty colors, because I'm in pain and the environment can go fuck itself.
Sigh. It'll be fine. I packed a nice lunch and tonight is my last shift before 7 days off. I'll feel better after a solid night's sleep and maybe a cyclobenzaprine.
It only costs $135 to spay a dog. I wonder if the vet would spay me if I gave him $200 cash. How different can it be?