Yesterday was both bouncy-squee-exciting, and curl-up-in-a-ball-because-I-think-I-may-be-dying painful.
First, the Thrills (not the purple soap gum): a few weeks ago, Ed and I came to a handshake agreement on three weeks in London this June. It was a fair compromise – I had wanted four weeks, but Ed wanted two – and we shook on it (after which I posted a Facebook update so it would be down in e-stone). Since the agreement (and spurred to action by an overlapping vacation request at work), I’ve been researching madly to find the best possible time/place/price .. and yesterday morning, I bought our plane tickets. We’re going to London in June for my birthday. Is it too early to start packing?
The Chills came in the afternoon at my appointment to have my hardware upgraded. I tried to prepare myself as best I could, but no one is ever really prepared to have a wheel jack crammed into your fun hole (twice, as the doctor had to go find a longer speculum to deal with my wandering cervix), cranked open, then a handful of lit fireworks shoved inside. The removal of the IUD 1.0 was unpleasant. The cleaning of my wonder box was very unpleasant. For some reason, a drying was needed: this was horribly unpleasant. Then came the applicator, which was terrible, and finally the main horrible terrible very bad no good hideously unpleasant main event, the IUD 2.0 itself. This time I knew well enough to NOT try and get up immediately after the construction crew left the site, but that didn’t stop my body from trying to reject everything ever and freaking the fuck out in pain and anger. There was much shaking, and my whole body broke out into an ocean of sweat – ever have your kneecaps start leaking? It’s weird. And damp. The doctor let me sit in a heap for a few minutes while the room spun around me, and I think I tweeted some inappropriate things before Find My Friends told me Ed was close enough for me to leave the doctor’s office. He took me home and took excellent care of me while I cursed everything around me, and the rest of the evening passed in a sticky, painful blur.
It’s all worth it, though. I’m now prepared to fight off the inevitable waves of sperm that come my way, and can resume living my secret life as a hentai revision of Elizabeth Báthory. Refreshing!
(ewwwwwwwww I grossed myself out)