One very long flight and a lovely day in New York later, we've arrived in Dayton. I felt rubbish for pretty much the entire flight, but made it in one (very grumpy) piece. The thing that surprised me is how much it hurt coming home this first time without you in my arms. I hadn't even thought about that hurt; it hadn't even crossed my mind. And when it hit me, it was rough-edged and searing and I couldn't even breathe.
Your Grandy and Grumpus had a great BBQ for our return and then your Aunty C, our friend Ohio Mike, and I dragged your father to a dingy Kareoke bar called Dizzy Jim's where we sang and laughed and cut up until the wee, wee small hours.
It was damn good harmless fun. We'll take some more of that, pretty please.
The last few weeks have been pretty rough. Stepping down off of one antidepressant (velafexine/Effexor XR) and transitioning to another (fluxotine/Prozac) has been harder than I thought it would be. A common cold turned into strep within 12 hours, and my schedule keeping - something I'm usually VERY good at - has been a disaster. I leave people waiting, forget where I am going, where I'm supposed to be. Run late, arrive early, get distracted and often just feel overwhelmed. The furvor of leaving a job I'd come to loathe and the process of filing formal grievances culimnated in a 3.5 hour phone call today that left me spent and with the start of a migraine.
Too much coffee, too much anger, and too much upset over the well-intentioned but startling ineptitude and excuses left me curled up in bed with a wet washcloth over my eyes. But its done now. And I've decided not to go to the mattresses this time round and to stop looking for fights.
I'll let you know how that one turns out.
In other news, there is just one more test the genetics team want do. . . I know, sweetest. There always seems to be one more test. But this one, they tell me. . . this one will be last. Noonan's Syndrome, a long shot, but a just in case. It would make very little difference to me, you know. But sometimes I do wonder if I have the strength to go through all of this poking and prodding and and well-intentioned interfereing again. And if I have another baby in the UK, I won't really have a say in the poking and prodding.
Only time will tell, I say. Only time will tell.
Next time I'll tell you about the groovy Korean Voodoo and the magnets.