A week of eating, drinking, eating some more, lounging without intent (or internet), snacking, boozing, dabbling in the occult, tippling, nomming, has rolled to it's over-fed conclusion.
This was yet another 'final' splurge, hot on the heels of a delay in treatment. And again, it is time to think a bit more about getting IVF ready.
If my life were to be made into a film (and indeed Mr Spielberg, why the hell not?), we would now be entering into the montage sequence.
The next three months would be represented by snippets of me swimming, gyming, laughing gaily whilst being pinned by my acupuncturist, high-fiving the husband as we simultaneously neck pre-conception vitamins, pushing away a cup of tea whilst virtuously sipping some herbal muck. I'd morph from someone who had lost her zest for life to a primed reproductive machine.
At the end of the suitably up-beat montage tune, I'm thinking M People 'Proud,' you'll see me nervously waiting to have the coil removed, the biopsy performed and fervently hoping that all the hard work has been worth it.
Unfortunately, the next three months can't be condensed into 3 minute 51 seconds. I'm actually going to have to work at this, and I need to strike a balance between achievable and destined for failure.
Some things are a given:
- The acupuncturist is booked
- Caffeine is already a distant memory
- I've done it enough times to know giving up booze is, um, possible
- The gym - I'm going to aim for three times a week but be satisfied with two
- Vitamins - are easy. At the moment I have to take birth control every night anyway so adding a couple more pill into the mix is fine.
And I want scientifically tested ideas, none of this waterhole swimming gubbins.
Or failing that just suggest a better montage tune, Hollywood is waiting.