 |
| photo credit: shelterpop.com |
I have a really, really bad short term memory. There are many conversations I don't remember shortly after. I ask people to repeat information pretty often. I
might have have forced KG to drive to school, delivering important things I left at home. Hell, I even locked myself out of the house once (okay, 3 times) because I forgot my keys (and phone!). So, to become a functioning adult, I had to figure out work-arounds and strategies to get me through my day-to-day life.
Seriously, I think of my brain as a faulty hard drive. However, instead of relying on the the hard drive alone, I have an external drive for backing up all my data: post its.
I am pretty convinced that I use more post-its than most human beings.
They cover my desk at work. They are on my refrigerator. They are on my
phone. They are in my purse. They show up randomly in my IVF med boxes
(more on that later). Simply put, post-its and I have a special
relationship. If I could make love to them, I would.
Along these lines, I also force KG to use post-its regularly. Picture this scenario: I have just gone to bed, lights out, covers tucked in.
Then...I remember something important.
Me: "KG! Can you write me a post-it?!"
This is followed by yelling out cryptic phrases to put on said post-it, to jog my memory when I see it in the morning. This has happened hundreds of times.
Being the smart ass that he is, KG started adding to my notes with his own witty banter. Example?
Me: "Can you write, 'planning time'?"
<translation: Schedule some planning time with math coordinator at school>
Post-It Note: "Planning time. Not Hammer time."
You get the idea.
Well, since this cycle started, KG has turned his funny post-its into sincere affirmations and words of support. I have found them near the coffee maker saying, "You rock." I have found them on my laptop saying, "You are so brave!" I have found them inside my laptop, stuck to my space bar, saying, "Boo! I love you!" My personal favorite, was found inside one of my Gonal-F pen boxes. It said, "Thank you."
As you can imagine, these little notes are making the excruciatingly slow progress of this cycle a little easier to take.
At least now, I can look at a post-it not only as a sign of early Alzheimer's but also a little reminder that the efforts for this baby are appreciated.
Now, let's talk about Gmail Calendar...
_________________________________________
IVF Update:
-I have been stimming for over a week. Saturday's estrogen was 15, Monday was
187, Wednesday was 404, and tomorrow morning, I'm hoping for at least 800. Shoot. Me. Now.
- Wednesday's ultrasound only showed 1 measurable follicle on the right, with lots of little ones on both the right and the left, that just weren't big enough yet.
- Lots more stimming in my future, me thinks.
Song of the Day: I was listening to the radio this morning, and the DJs were talking about raunchy songs. That got me thinking about the dirtiest songs that I have ever heard. This one came to mind immediately: Prince's "Darling Nikki." Any other Purple Rain fans out there?
What's the dirtiest song you have ever heard?
BTW: Foo Fighters did an amazing, but rare, cover of this song.
