[fyoo-goid]
-adjective Aerospace.
| of or pertaining to long-period oscillation in the longitudinal motion of an aircraft, rocket, or missile. |
[Origin: 1905-10; irreg. < Gk phyg(
) flight + -oid
]
| Dictionary.com Unabridged (v 1.1) Based on the Random House Unabridged Dictionary, © Random House, Inc. 2006. |
…So you see, it’s all about the ups and downs.
Probably I shouldn’t be broadcasting my occasional marital woes. Yet I do. Probably I shouldn’t be so forthright with full face photos of my loved ones. Yet I am. I write as the pendulum swings, and although it’s quite certainly tiresome to most, it serves the purpose of helping me regain a sense of balance. (And one of these days, I might actually get over myself.)
I love words. Especially oddball and interesting words. At the office a few weeks ago, the word phugoid came up, and we all thought (as dry, wry engineers do) that it would fit appropriately into a title for a book. Or a blog. Because lives are full of ups and downs.
I’ve known for quite some time that I am my own worst enemy. Common knowledge. A given. I have had a recent epiphany, though. (Another fine word. It sounds so holy.) It occurs to me that I am, and have always been, my own biggest fan. I’m a bit ashamed to admit it. Naturally, the revelation spawned the quest for origin, and I can only conclude that I am my father’s daughter, and I am my mother’s daughter. For as widely as they differ, they have some very similar traits. Stubborn defiance. Pride. (Which goeth before the fall.) Haughtiness.It all came about while I was fuming over Mr. Gadget’s recent gross error in judgement. In my mind I was going over how I am worthy of committed, continual, thoughtful love, kindness and respect. Of course I am. I am Sueeeus, for goodness sake. That should be enough. At the same time, I was countering that with thoughts of general disdain towards Mr. Gadget. I could hear my father muttering something about uneducated nincompoop. Of course Gadget is undeserving of the level of respect that I command. Haught indeed. Scornfully and condescendingly proud, she is. Amidst this string of thoughts, the clear vision of Mr. Gadget in his own obstinate glory. He believes in himself and his worth. He believes he is every bit as deserving of committed, continual, thoughtful love, kindness and respect. Therein the epiphany. He is, of course, right. What makes me think that I am so much better and that by default all should bow down in obeisance? I am not all that, as I have until now unadmittedly and unknowingly led myself to believe. This doesn’t excuse his gross error in judgement, of course, but he is a human being after all, and therefore he is worthy of love and respect.
And so the pendulum swings. Recently I’ve spent some time with a newborn, and also found myself quite frustrated with the entire health and fertility scene, what with data that shows no rhyme nor reason, and doesn’t correlate with anything at all expected. That, coupled with the enormity of the responsibility for yet another fragile life and all that entails. I’ve been a bit discouraged and despondent. I basically gave up. What was I thinking, anyway?
I’ve had a head cold, and it’s almost impossible to sleep. I can’t breathe, and I can’t wear my cpap mask. The full face mask works, but my mouth gets unbearably dry. The nasal mask is most comfortable and unobtrusive, but my nostrils are completely swollen shut so it won’t work. Without the mask, if I do sleep, I snore terribly and don’t get good rest, plus wake up with a horrible choked up throat. I ended up not sleeping at all. Miserable. Add to that hot flashes and one cold spell. I even spent a little while in the hot tub to warm up. I’ve been almost unbearably tired, and have attributed it to the blood sugar chaos that wrestles within me. It might have been my imagination, but I caught a glimpse of my reflection and it seemed as though certain rather circular areas of skin appeared somewhat darker.It’s cd41. In my estimation, the clomid this month was a complete bust as there was no hint of temperature shift until cd28, when it should have occurred around cd15, and then the hot flashes started around cd35. I used opks from cd12-29 with nothing to show. I started metformin on cd13. Fertility Friend estimates I ovulated on cd33, but I think it was cd28. Because of all this hot flashing, I figured I must have ovulated. Then again, it could be because I’m sick. What the heck, I thought to myself. Why not indulge in a little more self torture. I took a test, expecting nothing of course. Especially since I’ve been drinking gallons of tea and water and emptying my bladder hourly.
bfp
Now, what to do. Will it last? (I hope.) Will I get my heart all wrapped up around this? (Of course.) Will the outcome be good? (I hope.) Should I wait a few weeks before I decide to think about what I think? (Most probably.) But will I? (Of course not.)
Due date – 7.Mar.2008
MsCellania Says:
