...as sung to the tune of "I Wear My Sunglasses at Night." Jeez Louise. I had gone several nights without hot flashes and wrongly assumed that I would continue to dodge the proverbial bullet. Last night proved me wrong and overly optimistic.
I do some of my worst thinking when I'm laying in bed, drenched in sweat. Things that don't seem so bad or like such a big deal during the day are major issues at 2am. Last night, I was planning to end friendships and dreaming of moving away. I also decided that I would be either buying a bigger bed or moving to the guest room because my husband was making me hotter. I did pause to acknowledge the fact that a shorter haircut is helpful when dealing with hot flashes. Less mass to make extra sweat on the back of my neck.
Modern medicine has done amazing things for infertile women and I am eternally grateful for the potions that will hopefully bring me a baby. I feel stupid complaining about something that is ultimately as inconsequential as a hot flash, but that's only in the light of day. At night, I wonder if it can possibly be worth it. There is a comparison to be made between waking up every few hours because of side effects and waking up every few hours if the medicine works and brings me a baby. I suppose it's all practice...
I'm not the same person who posted pictures of medicine shipments and running totals last summer. Back then, I was brave and hopeful and my biggest worry was the money we were spending. Now, I know it's about so much more than the money and I'm more scared than I've ever been. It's about that tiny glimmer of hope that's still there. Fragile and hard to find sometimes, but it's still there. I want a baby and, for that chance, I'm willing to get back on the horse and start a new sharps container.