(no subject)
Last night was a record 237 mile service drive. I've gotten close, but never to 200 before. Towards the end of the night I saw a random girl-woman cosplaying a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle. I was astounded. I wanted to run up to her and geek out not because I was a turtle fan - Lil Sis was - but because I knew what the hell she was doing. Why she was doing it…I have no idea. I don't think I want to know why actually. I held back because I didn't totally get it 100% until I saw she was actually wearing a shell on her back. By that point she had her back to me and was far enough away that I was afraid any loud exclamations might actually put her in danger. So I squeed up and down and left to right to my partner about it. Then a couple of drunks fell off a wall onto their backs with that thud-squish sound that you know is a bad one. At some point I got a Cherry Coke which made me all kinds of sassy. Then my partner sent me off to Bat Country. We were taking about kids and adoptions and he said he liked the baby making process. I had a violent physical feral reaction to that. My entire body shook and I started swatting the air saying bugs, bugs, bats, bats, I'm in Bat Country! The baby making process. I never truly really thought of it before. When I was young, I was deathly afraid of becoming pregnant. I knew I wasn't ready for that. Then I had the pain for five or so years with my ovaries not producing mature eggs correctly and putting my body through shock trying to do it. After visits to the ER and having gone through about ten OBGYN doctors who couldn't find any cysts, I finally saved up enough for a specialist. He prescribed the pill, it worked, and I never had to think about it or the massive bleeding or the pain again. I had figured out that babies weren't in my plan due to my impossible career goal - have enough money to support myself and my kid without a second income just in case. I'd heard the horror stories no one tells you about until you're already pregnant from midwives. I'd heard the horror stories of Lil Sis' birth and of friends whose labor and delivery didn't go as planned, whether stillborn, live and just not coming out or emergency cesarians. I've read and logged in my memory the physical changes of the female body when a cell embeds itself in paramedic and medical texts - they even have a fancy Latin name for it. I've held marbles and shapes that represent the size of the growing fetus. I've seen and felt the unborn move inside my friends. But I had not actually ever physically thought about the baby making process occurring in my body. I went into Bat Country. My poor partner was simply thinking about the baby making process as being the development of the child as a being than pregnancy in the context of grow your own versus adoption. Wow. Never really ever thought about my own body's pregnancy and delivery. I wouldn't make it. It squiks the hell out of me. I always kinda thought of myself as infertile but not taking chances ever since the Dx for my ovaries. I mean, if my ovaries don't produce eggs correctly, I don't think they'd be able to produce a child correctly if they even did happen to make a mature egg at the right time. I think it would put my body through such a shock that it'd kill me and the kiddo before it ever made it out. I can sometimes remember the years of three-week pain. I'd have heat on my body so high it burned. The ovary was so inflamed I could palpate it and feel the pulse of the blood constricted by it. I'd have weights stacked on it and cry for people to put more weight on it. When the blood came, it was heavy and painful. I'd be in a fog at times and couldn't remember what I was doing or what I had done. I'd cry and collapse in bathrooms and sometimes forget things. Sheesh, that's also around the time I'd faint all the time and wake up on the floor hours later. Yah. Pregnancy's not for me. I don't ever want to risk going through that again or have to deal with complications I haven't begun to imagine. Maybe it'd be different if I could have afforded to follow up with the specialist. Maybe he could have found out what was wrong with my body and fixed it. The only thing I could afford back then was to turn it off.
It was a good night, though. We laughed at the visceral depth of my reaction. Had a few more good calls and bopped out to alternative and new wave oldies. The sassy Cherry Coke and energy drinks had us in a playful mood. I'm officially in lust for life again. I spent this afternoon working on my car and thinking about Dadz. I washed and vacuumed it and read every label of stuff to work on the interior. I got some yummy Persian food and made daring palette choices that concerned the owner since I've only had Persian once before. They were all wondering where I and my accent came from. Little Bear (not his real name) and Mr. Fluffy pants (not his real name) are eating like the ravenous predators they are. I teased them with fresh mint from my salad. They found the aromatic intense and somewhat appalling but good for biting and licking and pawing. Life is much better than last week and the week before that. I'm still behind on everything and have too much to do to catch up on anything, but I'm happier than I've been in a year and the body feels as if it's mending cell by cell.