I wish sometimes that I could be less of a shit-talker. This wish comes after a conversation yesterday between Self, Boss, and New Person in the Office. I think that years of working in mental health has my wheels trained to turn in a figure-out-the-person’s-motivation-for-the-behavior kind of way, and sometimes when I verbalize my little behavior-mystery-solving it sounds less like insight and more like shit talking. Or maybe it just is shit talking.
The Inner Workings
I had a lovely visit with my OB-GYN yesterday, and if you want too much information about Mama Snee, please, read on!
First, I think I have made an error by switching to the “Mothership University Will Take Care Of Your Family” insurance plan when A. had open enrollment a couple of months ago. I have a feeling we’ve narrowed our health care options, though I have confirmed that Dr. Awesome Pediatrician will for sure be participating in the plan. I didn’t think I would care about leaving the OB-GYN that delivered Bird, but I do. I DO! I don’t want to break up with her, and now I think I might have to.
Other discussion topics included alternatives to the Pill, which I have been taking again since Bird entered the world, after two years of not taking it and a year of incubating/ nursing. And something is telling me I shouldn’t be taking it, so I’m going to stop taking it. What am I going to do to keep Bird #2 on the waiting list for earth birth? That’s right, folks! Day counting! Chemical-free Day Counting! Apparently my options for birth control are: condoms (eh), and the SPONGE. And day counting. I’d like to say I’ll keep you posted, but this is probably the last I’ll discuss it. Now you (and the entire internet) know about the cryptic marks on my calendar.
In other medical news, it has been announced that my grandmother has a sizable tumor in her colon, which will be removed next Tuesday. The reality of this news still hasn’t touched me, I don’t think, as it is being deflected currently by the same shield that lets me sleep peacefully after dealing with the needs of the terminally ill all day long at work. But this is not about me. Direct good thoughts toward my Gran, please, if you could.