In which Ms Heathen feels sorry for herself (it may well be the meno.pur talking)

I am now on Day 4 of the meno.pur injections, Mr H is still in Rome, and the cat is ill.

I started the nafa.relin nasal spray on Saturday, and the meno.pur injections on Sunday. Because I am taking such a high dose of the meno.pur, the nurse at the Great Big Infertility Clinic recommended that I do two separate injections - each with three vials of powder diluted in one ampoule of solvent. If I did a single injection containing all six vials of powder, I ran the risk of boils at the injection site, she explained. Superstitiously, I aim one injection in the general direction of each ovary. The increased dose does seem to be bringing with it increased side effects - nausea, an angry rash at the injection site, and tenderness in my abdomen (not ovulation pain, more a feeling of soreness), but only time will tell if it also results in more follicles.

Mr H phoned yesterday afternoon to say that the new firm was asking him to commit for a minimum of three years. How did I feel about that? I explained once again that I was concerned about how it would affect our relationship, particularly our plans for a family. He said that he would talk things over again with his new boss. When he rang back again, he said that he had told his boss that we were currently undergoing fertility treatment, and that we were very much hoping to have a baby. His boss had reassured him that family was the most important thing, and that, providing he gave them notice, his schedule could be adjusted to fit around treatments.


As several of you said in your comments, a potential move down south may well bring new opportunities. I've felt for some time that, once I've submitted my thesis, I would like to make a clean break from the Shit Hot Critical Theory Department. The Shit Hot Critical Theory Department seems to be full of recently qualified PhDs, who hang around like dogs at dinner time fighting over any scraps of teaching that are handed out, hoping against hope that they will be offered a permanent contract. The longer they stay, the more bitter they become. I'd far rather submit, and move on to somewhere where I may be seen as an academic in my own right, rather than 'Professor So-and-So's student'. A move down south would take me closer not only to a number of other universities, but also to the major museums and galleries, which would open up a whole range of new career opportunities. As shinejil says, it would also mean that I could look for a more responsive clinic. I also quite liked Luna's suggestion that I could possibly accompany Mr H on some of his trips so that we can keep trying naturally - but knowing my luck, I wouldn't get to go to Paris or Rome, but would probably end up trying to plan a romantic tryst in a Travel Lodge somewhere near Milton Keynes!


The decision has now been made, for better or worse: we talked it through again yesterday afternoon, and came to the conclusion that Mr H should take the job. He has now signed the contract, and is flying home later this afternoon.

Amongst everything else, the cat is ill. She seems to be spending an inordinate amount of time in her litter box, but doesn't appear to be peeing. I'm assuming that she may have a urinary infection, and so have booked an appointment at the vet's later on today. She is currently asleep in a small patch of sun at the end of the bed, unaware of the trauma that awaits!