Following a period of suspicious lateness of period, Karen pissed on a piece of paper yesterday and it all worked out beautifully. I, meanwhile, am unable to really enjoy the event to its fullest as half of my face is dying. I went to the doctor today and he has diagnosed me with Bell’s Palsy which is no fun, but it’s what I was expecting. I’m going to be on steroids for the next two weeks, which is a terrifying concept, as the list of possible side-effects is as long as my arm. I guess this kind of stuff just happens sometimes. As long as Karen and I stick together and remember that we’re on the same team, I think we should kick the ass of anything that comes at us.
We’ve already decided that should we suffer another miscarriage, we’d be able to handle it a lot better. But then, I’m not sure if that’s true. Though we’re confident that we can get a pretty quick turnaround on these pregnancies (three months after her periods began again), she’s not, and I apologise for speaking frankly, getting any younger. Really, we want this one to work out, and we want it very much.
Meanwhile, I suppose I keep taking the drugs. Meh.