May 1: moderate pelvic pain. Off work due to sinus infection.
May 5: moderate right side ovarian pain around 5pm at home.
May 14: moderate cramps. Took half a T3 and 400-600mg Motrin that day while touring museums in London. Had to sit and rest several times. Felt generally miserable but refused bedrest.
May 20: George arrived 3 days late for this rather new cycle, but on time for the old cycle. That is to say, he was LATE for the 25-day cycle he’s had me on since February – I’ve been between 1 and 3 days early since February 2009, now I’m late. WTF.
It must also be noted that during May 2009, I began a wholly different diet, inclusive of eggs, bacon, ham, sausage, cream in my caffinated tea, and coffee sometimes twice a day – oh, and drinking a lot of whisky or wine – while traveling in the UK. This likely contributed to george being late. We’ll just have to see how it goes for the next few months…
May 21 – 23: Did not document, can’t remember very well. I know that for at least one of those nights, I woke in pain and took Tylenol 3 twice during the night, and was a bit of a zombie the next day. But I cannot remember which night/day.
May 24: Very heavy cramps and bleeding while touring Culloden battlefield. I was on 400mg Motrin and 2 Tylenol 3. It’s amazing I was even upright, let alone walking. I forced myself to do it, considering the sad moment and location. In my pain and drug haze, I commented to my husband that I was just as determined to finish the circuit around the battlefield as I had been to finish a bike ride back in 2003*.
I rambled on, saying that if a starved, wet, cold, sleep deprived and injured soldier could carry on in this harsh boggy terrain, fighting to his certain death for the dream of a free Scotland, then the LEAST I could do in my own painful state was to pay homage. Because it was the Scots who DID live through Culloden who later emigrated to North America, and it was they and/or their sons who fought the British again another day, helping to win the independence of the United States of America.
I carried on. I paid my respects. It was a very hard day.
May 25: Did not document, can’t remember.
Here’s the month of May, pain-wise:
|*In March of 2003, I was on a long bicycle ride when my period showed up around mile 40 and the pain set in immediately. Unlike the day at Culloden described above, where I knew I had my period already, back in 2003 on that bike ride, I had started the ride without george.
I had to go another 18 excruciating miles to the next pitstop before I could determine that yes, in fact, my period had started. On the way, I had to stop, get off my bike, and double over in pain several times, and remember to breathe.
I finished the ride, by the way. All 66 miles of it. And then spent the next few days bedridden.