If I could get away with it I'd blame PMT for the miserable post the other day. But we all know that's the one thing I haven't got.
The last time I cried in the street I was 16. Me and two mates necked a bottle of gin mixed with lemonade to provide dutch courage prior to a disco. We were young and we didn't realise that a) gin is a major depressant and b) beer-goggles only work if the guy you fancy is wearing them, not you. The three of us ended up clinging to each other on a bench on the high street bawling our eyes out. We never made the disco and I think it was another two years before I found a boyfriend.
But I digress.
Good news! The Doc has got back to me with a date for the hysteroscopy. It is the 24th of September. The day before my scheduled appointment with the clinical nurses. Which means, dear readers, which means, I can still go to the clinical nurses for some super-ovulating action.
Now technically I'm not sure that the day after removing a polyp is really the time to be prescribed ovulation drugs. But do you know what? The good thing about the disorganised, unjoined-up, flakey NHS, is that ... shhh ... they need never know. Now OBVIOUSLY at the appointment I'll mention I had the hysteroscopy the day before, but I sure as hell ain't gonna pre-warn them in case they decide off their own back to postpone my appointment with the clinical nurse.
So all good. Happy days are here again.