I think my ovaries know something’s up.
And before we dive into this quick update, I just want to throw out this warning: If talking about Aunt Flo makes you uncomfortable, I recommend stopping here. Just click that little back button and keep on with your social media scrolling. Thanks to this cancer mess, privacy is a thing of my past, so whatever small filter I may have had regarding privacy and what other people consider “TMI” when talking about my body is gone now. However, I know there are a few men out there reading these, so I will try my best to use words like “cycle” instead of “period” to make it more PC, but I can’t guarantee that some crass words won’t find their way into the blog as usual because that’s just who I am. When talking about these things in person, I usually begin with some disclaimer along the lines of “if any of this is a little too personal, just stop me—it won’t hurt my feelings.” But one thing I’ve noticed so far is that people are surprising me. They are either genuinely curious about what I have to say about the things I’m going through or people in general are just more open to talking about private things than I initially expected. However, if you are not one of these people, consider yourself warned.
Anyway, if you read this post, you know that I am hoping to start the 14-day egg retrieving/freezing process this week. The REACH center predicted, based on my blood test, that I was to start my cycle on Wednesday this week.
But Wednesday came and went without a cramp in sight.
So, the only conlusion I’ve been able to come to is that my ovaries are suspicious. They know something isn’t right, and I think it was the ultrasound the other day that gave it away. My body is, once again, acting out against me and teaching me another lesson in patience. Because I haven’t quite gotten enough of those lately. So they have gone into hiding for a while.
But it’s okay. I can wait.
Either that or the girls I work with haven’t started theirs yet, and for all the men out there who are still reading this and may be wondering: that rumor that girls sync their periods is not a rumor. It’s the God-honest truth. Usually all it takes for me to start is hearing the crinkle of a tampon wrapper in the bathroom or a slight mention of cramps from one of the other girls, and my body immediately goes into overdrive.
Either way, those eggs can’t hold out forever.
I will find them. And I will freeze them.