We’ve been on lockdown here in Philly for three days now. In the two weeks preceding that, all of the usual hysteria that’s been experienced around the globe due to COVID-19 happened here as well. Like countless others, I’ve been working from home and regarding every person I encounter with a level of suspicion and a very wide berth (six feet, to be precise). Even though I’m not usually one to ‘document’ my life online, I’m making an exception with this post.
Today I had a tele-medicine appointment with Dr. Ruby. It was my first time meeting with a doctor electronically. I’m so thankful that God has provided humans with the know-how to create technology such as tele-medicine so that such things are even possible. Anyway, I’d contacted Dr. Ruby because I got my period 13 days ago and it still hasn’t stopped. I’ve been getting kinda worried (and inconvenienced) by the constant bleeding. Dr. Ruby believes my never-ending period is related to a new thyroid medication my endocrinologist prescribed me last month. I was prescribed this medication in an attempt to corral my uncontrolled Hashimotos. I’ll update if the plan Dr Ruby suggested today actually works. I pray that it does.
As for whether the meds worked to control my thyroid, well I’m far too wary of going to LabCorp to have blood work done to find out. Jake is a nurse and works primarily with geriatric patients. I can’t take any risks, such as going to the lab, which could potentially endanger him and his very vulnerable patients, unless absolutely necessary. In the scheme of things, my thyroid function is apples to the oranges that is coronavirus. So for now I’ll stay put and just have to trust that my new thyroid medication is doing what it’s supposed to do. Lord willing, I can find out later whether it actually did!
I’m just gonna pause here and lament that these are such weird times we suddenly find ourselves thrust into living in: today I met with my doctor via FaceTime. Tonight my infertility support group is meeting on Zoom. Tomorrow my bimonthly counseling appointment is being held via Skype. Last Sunday we “went” to church in our living room, also via Zoom. People keep throwing the word around, but it is unprecedented indeed.
As I continued to follow my fellow CNBC friends on Instagram, I feel a bit of relief that I’m not the only one who is oddly grateful to not have children at this moment in history. My family and friends with very young children incur the added difficulty of being cooped up together 24/7 while still having to provide entertainment, schooling, discipline, etc. around the clock. This all while trying to be “at work” at the same time… That’s been tough for some of my friends and family members. While I can’t emphasize, I can certainly sympathize with that situation being a really hard, frustrating, and map-less lifestyle.
And I’m a bit ashamed at those in the infertility community who are giving parents flack for ‘complaining’ for it being difficult to have their kids home right now. Parenting is hard stuff; parenting when you’re kids are 100% always home with no means of escape must be extra, extra hard stuff. When did it become martial law that, post-infertility, no one may ever complain about kids being tough to raise? Anyway, I am just grateful for my quiet home. As an introvert, staying home doesn’t bother me in the least; I actually prefer being home. Jake is at work a lot because nurses are needed right now, so I find myself home alone often which can be kinda lonely, but overall I’m good with it.
I’ve set up my office in a separate space in the house, which helps to differentiate being ‘at home’ verses being ‘at work.’ Since my employer is deemed a ‘life-sustaining’ / vital function, I am still blessed to have a job, unlike many of my colleagues who’ve unfortunately been laid off this week. Boss has been understanding about my reluctance to return to our physical office next week, as he plans to do. For the foreseeable future, I’ll keep working remotely, even if Boss isn’t thrilled about it. We’ll manage.
Home is now also my new gym! It’s been a huge adjustment. I’m one of those people who goes to the gym at 6:30 every morning like clockwork. Suddenly life in that respect has been turned upside down! I tore my plantar fascia (ouch. like so much ouch I can’t even begin to say…), so running—which I love to do—is out of the question for the next twelve weeks. For the duration, I am wearing a really sexy gigantic walking boot while I heal, and modifying YouTube videos in my basement workout space so I don’t turn into a ball of fatty mush. Those workouts, coupled with taking Puppy on like 8,000 walks a day, is my new fitness regime.
And hey—if you’ve read this far, then kudos to you! This has been one of my most ramble-esque blog posts ever. Blame it on being cooped up and restless. I hope all of you are staying healthy and #covidfree. Know that you, all my (in)fertility friends, remain in my prayers.