re-move

www.journeytothecentre.com

That's where I am.

:)

why the internet sucks

Once there was girl named Meg, who spent many many hours setting up a new website. She fiddled; she fussed; she was proud.

And then she registered her domain name.

But then something went wrong. The registrar wasn't answering her questions! Instead, they were sending useless FAQs back towards her, and not making the changes she asked. It was all very suspicious.

Finally, after almost a week of literally tearing her hair out, Meg got the new site working. She posted on the old site, redirecting them to this site:

www.journeytothecetnre.com

Go on. Click on it.

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Doesn't look much like my blog, does it?

It, appears, friends, that I've been had.

(dodgy fucks)

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New site will be up and running soon -- not at that url obviously.

At least I hope so.

plans

Well, we finally had our appointment with the nurse this afternoon. And while it is a huge and very exciting step, I fear it's not going to make for particularly interesting reading.

They did give us the O*vidrel trigger shot in a brand new six-pack cooler, though (Gotta love the ol' Linkistration), boldly emblazoned with this logo.

That was novel.

And I must say, it's nice to know we definitely get something lasting and tangible for our $3190.

So, in layman's terms -- there is laymen reading this, believe it or not (please skip the info if you are not a layman; I have no desire to bore) -- the process should look something like this:

Should, I said.

Should.

• June 16th - Start the pill (M*icrogynon 30 ED)
• July 2nd - Start S*ynarel nasal spray twice daily (decreases the amount of oestrogen produced by the ovaries providing a more controlled situation for ovarian stimulation and production of eggs.)
• July 7th - Blood Test (To check that I am fully suppressed)
• July 13th - Start G*onal F subcutaneous injections once a day (This acts directly on the ovaries to promote the growth of more than one follicle / egg)
• July 21st - Ultrasound to check groth of follicles and uterine lining
• July 22nd - Trigger Shot (to release eggs from follicles for ease of vacuuming)
• July 24th - Egg Collection operation / Fun with Fabio
• July 25th - Microinjection of sperm into eggs
• July 29th - Embryo Transfer (5 day transfer - just one for now). Begin C*rinone progesterone gel (Progesterone helps to support the uterus for pregnancy)
  
• August 14th - Pregnancy Test

So there you go.

It's all about to happen.

Yay.

I think.

embarrassing incident

My mother swears that she does not remember this incident.

But I do.

It was significant, after all: It was the original S.W.B.

And we all know how reliable a six-year-old's memory is.

The incident occurred while we were visiting a friend of my mother's, who lived in a block of flats. They had been inside drinking coffee, as I played outside at the bottom of the long car park. There was an old cement block incinerator in the small garden there, and I had been poking around in it; searching for what, I don’t know.

What I found was a pair of bloodied underpants in a paper bag.

I ran inside, waving the underpants in my hand and screeching.

Mum, you have to call the police! Someone’s been murdered! I found these in the incinerator!

My mother and her friend were shocked, and rightly so. As my mother forced me to dispose of the evidence and sent me off to wash my hands, I heard her friend say to her:

I think you’re going to have to have a little talk with Megan.

Now this sparked my interest. A Little Talk. I nagged my mother all the way home: What did she mean by a little talk? Are we going to have a little talk? What was the little talk going to be about? Could she give me any hints?

My mother said: Not now, Megan.

A week or so later, when my father and brother were “elsewhere”, my mother sat me down next to her on the couch. She placed a book on the coffee table in front of us. It was a big square hard-cover, and very innocuous – all pastel colours and dainty line-drawings.

We went through the book together. She was very patient and calm, slowly pointing out the ovaries and the fallopian tubes and the uterus, and carefully, methodically explaining what each one did.

When we were done, I said to her:

So, the blood comes out because you have to make room for the egg?

My mother sighed.

Yes, Meg, that’s more or less it.

I believed this until I was about fifteen years old.

Sad, huh?

acupuncture #1

First of all, I would like to thank those lovely women who delurked themselves to email me about my last, most ultra-secretive of posts. Yay for you and your high bravery. I hope you were not disappointed.

:)

Meanwhile:

Until this wave of articles appeared about a month ago, my mother had been looking at me funny, assuming I was just taking my message-board research too far.

(I do tend to take things too far sometimes, but that's another story.)

In fact, I am surprised I haven't mentioned it yet. Guess there just haven't been any interesting stories attached to the whole thing.

But I have been seeing a TCM practitioner for a while now. (And I can't tell you how long it took me to strike on that title. I called her the Chinese Medicine Lady until about ten minutes ago.)

And she rocks.

She actually specialises in Infertility and IVF. I've spent the last three months drinking some kind of black stinkyherb concoction and taking a heap of little round black pills. The herb drink started off tasting totally vile, but I appear to have developed a taste for it over time. Now I find it almost soothing in a masochistic kind of way.

I'm not sure what it is. I know I should probably ask, but I keep forgetting, and the mystique is almost gratifying; it evokes images of the old Chinese man from Gremlins. (I am trying to remember the name of this character cum hideous racial stereotype - Anyone know?)

We both had our first round of acupuncture yesterday, designed to draw the blood flow towards our nether-regions and improve the quality of our respective gametes.

I'd been looking forward to this for some time, both with anticipation and a little dread.

But it wasn't really that big a deal.

Basically, the needles felt no different going in to if you tapped yourself on the leg with two fingers. Only a couple of them hurt, and that was nothing much to speak of anyway, just like a very mild electric shock.

So was it relaxing?

Hmm. Not really, to be honest.

I actually found it quite intense. A little too tingly. Not nerve tingly. More just a general warmth and pressure throughout my body. Oh, it wasn't unpleasant per se, but after twenty minutes or so, I was ready for them to come out. I was getting a little edgy to move around, get up. I was having a few small muscle spasms, like before you go to sleep, and was strangely getting a little teary.

I felt quite heavy afterwards, and desirous of flopping in a deep lounge chair. Is that what relaxation feels like? (I'm not really familiar with relaxation, as a rule...)

I'd be curious to hear everyone else experiences with / thoughts about acupuncture and Chinese Medicine.

Yeah?

s.w.b.

I want to tell you about the secret women's business.

But then it wouldn't be secret women's business.

Email me (journeytothecentre@hotmail.com) and I will forward you the intended post within 24 hours.

Girls only.

Sorry.

(Or not so sorry. Tee hee.)

Edit (next day): Come on, all ye olde lurkers - don't be scared to unveil yourselves. It's not a public execution. All you need to do is send me a blank email with "S.W.B." in the subject line. I won't sell your email address to a drug company. Promise! It's all in the spirit of fun! (And it really is just a regular post. You know: Writing. Words. English. That kind of stuff.)

emo

Sometimes, when we're really close to people over a period of time, we come to see ourselves through their eyes. We believe them. And then one day we realise, and we try to break free. But the damage has already been done. Their words will stay with us. Always.

(I'm not having an emo day, by the way. I just wanted to explain the poem.)

(P.S. I have also been wanting to use the word emo for some time. I only learnt it a couple of months ago, and it amuses me.)

Emo Poem (not original title)

Name me then. No matter.
Your eyes have gone
from my reflection.
This letting go
defines me now.

And it's only roots.
Beginnings. Beneaths.

So indeed I might have been the one
who kicked up rotting leaves
around you; who dug away
wet clumps of earth
and turned them over in my hands
as if to form and reform -

But you and me,
we're only roots and broken glass.
Compost. Fifteen years.

I imagine then, your critical eye.
Those words of yours
grow up around my ankles
like a myth:

Seven years bad luck
for breaking you,
for breaking away.

No end to your mirrors now.
Even in absence.

(Double P.S. Although I was responsible for the poem, this photograph is neither of me or by me. I just found it on the internet.)

tagorama

Tagged by Vee, I was.

So here, in lieu of anything useful to say (aside from "My period came today which means the process is starting soon and I am feeling really shitscared. My God, I can't tell you.") I will complete the distraction-meme as instructed.

Yes. That's what I'll do. Uh-huh.

Five items in my fridge:
1. Open cans of dog and cat food
2. Dry yeast
3. A bag of wilting baby spinach
4. A tube of wasabi
5. A very large jar of South Australian pickled onions (A gift from my in-laws. Don't ask.)

Five items in my closet:
1. Two fold up spring camp beds
2. My Year 12 formal dress (like I'll ever fit into that again)
3. A quilting mat and rotary cutter
4. Ugly 90s platform sneakers
5. A very old scanner that cost a lot at the time

Five items in my car:
N/A (*Sigh* It would have been an entertaining one too, as anyone who knows me In Real Life will tell you.)

Five items in my handbag:
1. A spiral notebook and assorted stationery
2. Lip Balm
3. My jar of Chinese stinkyherbs
4. Old bus tickets.
5. My last stash of the sadly discontinued Eclipse gum

And you know what? Make sure you fully link-istrate your memes.

That's when the distraction factor really kicks in.