If the universe would like to kill me, I wish it would make up it’s mind and quit fucking around with me. Get it over with, already. Because I’d just like to be able to move forward in one way or another, and I don’t particularly care which one at the moment.

I just got an email from the cycle coordinator, asking me to call her when I received the email, at my convenience.

Uh-oh.

The donor’s period was late. She went to the OB to make sure she was okay, as in not pregnant. God, the irony…..

Well she’s not pregnant, but she does have a “suspicious” cyst. Her doc advised against her donating this month, and they’re going to biopsy it next week. Even if that turns out okay, we’re looking at about a 3-4 month wait, and that’s the best case scenario. But she’d still like to donate. I’m not sure if my clinic will even use her after this.

I felt my brain unplug from my spinal cord while she was talking. I have a ton of work to finish, and I don’t know how I’m going to get through it. I can’t think, I can’t breathe. I suddenly have some stupid song running through my head that I don’t even recognize. Maybe my brain’s way of putting its hands over its ears and yelling “lalalalalalalalalalala – I’m not hearing you”? I can’t believe this, and I can’t believe I can’t believe this. I want to laugh and scream at the same time. I am seriously entertaining thoughts of quitting this shit altogether, but my mind won’t quite get around that corner yet. I’ve been crushed and rebuilt so many times in the last few years, I should be rattling when I walk. People should hear me coming a mile away.

So instead of doing any of that, I went to my agency’s website – again – and pulled up my favorites list to see if there was even anyone on there. There were three women, and I couldn’t even recall what I liked about them in the first place. I pulled up the first one, vaguely remembered that she was our second choice and sent it in to confirm her availability. Like reserving a table at a restaurant – only I can’t even seem to get in the fucking door.

Bad fucking Monday, man. Baaaaaad Monday…..

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