I have confirmation from my doctor: this temporary senility’s okay because there’s not a damn thing to be done about it.
Mr. Q and I went in for the regularly scheduled doctor’s visit today and all is, as usual thus far, disgustingly well. Measurements were taken and the speedy-baby heartbeat was listened to and everything matches up well with all the 27 week “shoulds”. And I’m not about to complain, despite what could easily be construed as whining in my earlier post [um, since it kind of, sort of, might have been].
Okay, I lied about not complaining. I want to write happy little sunshiny bits all the time about about as much as you want to read it all the time. And so, the ugly truth: I’m losing it. I haven’t lost it utterly…yet, but some days I am simply spaced. I can handle a sore back, not wearing heels and a slightly stuffy nose. My tolerance for general stupidity, however, is pretty much non-existent. And now I’m the one repeating myself, blurting things out backwards and getting that vacant blankness about the face.
Really, I just want to smack myself.
But I fear that personal injury, combined with the inability to accurately recall recent conversations without strained thought, may get me deeper into the medical system than a routine pregnancy. So I haven’t gone there…yet.
Besides, if I wait a few minutes, there’s a good chance I’ll forget whatever I did, didn’t do or did sideways.