AUTHOR: Sara TITLE: Rule #243 - Do Not Piss Off the Infertile! DATE: 3/08/2005 07:44:00 PM ----- BODY:

Well, I am have been a little on edge lately, I'll admit. There are a combination of factors contributing to why I am a little stressed out, and not being able to get pregnant is only one of them. I always manage to *deal* with stress somehow and come out, fists displayed, ready for more. This time, my face looks like one huge pimple. I don't know if it is the new routine of "Hey! Let's take the Prometrium this month, even though we inevitably start our period anyway! Nothing like having EXTRA hormones to kick off Spring, you know!?!" or if it is just good, old-fashioned stress. I look the definition of puberty. Today, I decided to take deep breaths as I picked my husband up at 4pm from having his wisdom teeth pulled. What could possibly stress me out about that? Hmmmmm . . . . stupid me. Apparently the doctors would not put him under until I arrived. (Like he would have driven home on his own anyway, gee.) So I approach the counter, calmly greeted the front-desk receptionist and let her know that I was Mike's ride and they could go ahead and give him the good stuff. I turned my back and grabbed a magazine, ready to get comfy for the wait, when she asked, "Are you Michael's mother? We need to collect his copay." WTF?!?! I know it is only Tuesday and normally I would not completely freak out until at least Thursday, but does the fact that it feels like a Friday count? I asked her very, very calmly, "Do I look like a mother of a 28-year old man?" She uncomfortably shuffled her paperwork and I continued to stare her down. I swear to God if they didn't have one of those glass-window things (most likely made to protect them from people like me) I would have crawled over the counter. Apparently other friends have had to deal with the stupidity of office staff today, too. It should be a crime, I tell ya! To top it all of, this is the first time my dh has ever been put under. Let's just say, we won't be doing this again anytime soon. There was no warning in the paperwork that it can turn men into raging assholes when they wake up. Apparently, anesthesia makes Mike think he can tell me how to drive. No one, and I repeat, no one can tell me how to drive. Not unless you want a good tongue-lashing and a chocolate shake thrown at you. (Yes, I actually did that.) *The one positive . . . I am NOT ovulating today. Sex with crazy-ass, moody bitch and gauze-filled-mouth-man would be SOOO unappealing.

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