Time it’s a tickin’: When days turn into weeks, turn into…this is taking forever…

Promise, doesn’t hurt a bit…

I’m back at The Lovely Lady Doctor’s office and this time she wants to take some tests – ‘pre pregnancy screening’ she calls them. Just the usual: HIV, Hepatitis and all kinds of other delightful diseases as well as iron levels, and vitamin deficiencies. Charming. Not only can I not seem to successfully grow a little person in my tummy but it might be because I have unknowingly contracted some mosquito-infected disease too.

Oh and while we’re at it, she says, we’d better do a pap smear. It’s my lucky day! There ain’t no getting past this Sergeant Major…who seems to have uncovered it’s been well and truly over three years (I know, I know, slap my chops) since a speculum last saw the insides of my lady parts. She tells me I need to come back in another three weeks, once my results come through. “Uhh couldn’t we get them sooner, like maybe rush them through since this is sort of urgent?” I plead, convinced I am in my own state of emergency. I’m not sure she understands just how much I hate waiting.

I think of explaining to her that not only am I Scorpian, and we Scorpians don’t believe in waiting, but I’m also a 36-about-to-be-37 impatient Scorpian who really really wants a baby. Like now.

Lady Doctor doesn’t seem all that enthused by my impatience and goes right ahead and books an appointment for three weeks’ time. ‘Right. So I guess I’ll see you in a couple of weeks then, who knows what might’ve happened by then,’ I smile at her. She looks at me weirdly and is probably glad to see the back of this deranged hormonally-crazy girl.

When we next meet, I am hopeful. “Your tests all appear normal,” she starts. “Your iron is low” (note to self: stop in and buy the biggest steak outside of Texas on the way home). “But your vitamin D is up,” she counters. Yes! A win. Knew my tan was good for something! “So,” she says, looking over her specs at me again (so reminds me of my third-form English teacher) “Now you just need to relax and let nature take its course…so to speak…” I did think I would have to physically remove the eyeballs of the next person who said those words but seeing as Lovely Lady Doctor is here to help, I stop short and simply nod. “There is one other thing you can try…have you had acupuncture before?” she asks. “Nope,” I reply, possibly a little too eagerly and at more octaves than is appropriate inside a doctor’s room. “I know of a good acupuncturist who might be able to assist.” Well book the lim-ou-sine…I’ll be your little Voodoo if it means one of my lil’ egglings might hatch.

When I first meet Mr Needles he starts with a list of questions – some I believe to be completely irrelevant to the inner workings of my reproductive system but as he is the trained professional, I play along with his game. Turns out he knows his stuff and upon reading my body language (or my mind) decides I need to be ’emotionally cleaned out before my body can conceive’. He concludes that I am internally cold…which doesn’t mean I’m Cruella De Ville and collect spotty puppies but rather that I always have cold feet and explains my constant need to have too-hot-to-sit-in baths.

For anyone who is a needle-virgin, acupuncture does not hurt. Not one little pinprick (trust me, my needle phobia stretches well past the normal fear limit of a sane human being) and works on certain pressure points in your body, manipulating or releasing the muscles with needles. I particularly like that I don’t have a six-month wait to see Mr Needles.

Once question time is over, he asks me to lie up on the bed and begins placing tiny needles into my pressure points. He also runs a cord that spans from my hands to my feet to ‘bypass my inners and get my system working properly again’ of which he lights each end. There’s a slight warming sensation and then I lie there for about fifteen minutes.

After our little prickling session, he hands me some Chinese herbal tablets that I must take (by the handfuls) every day. I will need to see Mr Needles for a six-course duration, by which time he hopes everything will be in perfect working order once again. That makes two of us.
Wish me luck, my little munchkins! Hugs, Lady Mama G x

2 thoughts on “Time it’s a tickin’: When days turn into weeks, turn into…this is taking forever…

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