All I can do is try to be positive. It's really all I have. Take vitamins and be positive, because the only alternative is gnawing despair and fretting and quiet rage. So Patrick and I bake apple pie and look forward to teetotalling it for all of October (hopefully beyond...) and I spend my Friday nights mucking out stalls in a barn, which is (next to acupuncture) one of the most relaxing things on the planet, believe it or not. Because I am a weirdo. Or not. Everybody knows horses are peace (until you fall off).
There's so much to fret about that at this point, I'm trying to just ignore the possible cloud of worry which has the potential to grow and fill the entire universe, and instead be positive, because the other option (IMPENDING DOOM, PREPARE THYSELF FOR DESPAIR!) is simply not appealing. We've got about a month to go, so we're in that in-between time of trying to figure this all out before we actually do it. And I really don't want to spend that time being the soothsayer of doom to myself any more than I am already. Imagine that.
I'm not sure what the point of writing all of this down is, sometimes. But it's here.
This is my one little life, and I refuse to give up on this without a goddamn hell of a fight. So call me tomorrow, pharmacy, and tell me how many thousands this Gonal F and all that is going to cost me, and I'll rage, and then we'll figure this out and do this.