Life Goes On

I've been trying not to let my various blended family issues get me down recently. I'm not sure if I'm succeeding, but I've certainly managed to achieve a lot of the things I've needed to.

I handed in a 200 page thesis last week. Somehow, it was all a little anti-climatic. The woman who collected the two bound copies that I reluctantly handed over looked very unimpressed, and primarily displeased at have been disturbed from Strictly Come Celebrity Pop Factor in the Jungle, or some variation thereof. She gave me a little yellow slip as a receipt. I felt like getting one of those t-shirts made: I spent four years doing a doctoral thesis and all I got is this lousy yellow slip.

Somehow, four years ago, a doctorate seemed like such a worthwhile thing to do. Now it just feels like I'm going to spend the rest of my life trying to catch up with my pension & national insurance payments, and listening to people say: 'But you're not a real doctor, are you?'

However, I am glad that I didn't succumb to that avaricious urge to apply to Lehman brothers like some of my contemporaries at college. Although it does seem that those who are losing the most in this global fiscal crisis are the workers at the bottom of the food chain, rather than the investment bankers. All the major banks and consultancies are still booked in for the University milkround and practically salivating at the prospect of all those quantitative analysts now free to work for them. Hang on, I think I'm drifting dangerously into political territory now - let me just drag myself back to safer ground.

So, what I was trying to say was that it seemed like such a good idea at the time, and now I'm 27 with no pension, a healthy student debt and an oncoming recession. However, I did manage to get a job, albeit on a short 6 month contract, although goodness knows how as I haven't exactly been at my sparkling best recently. And that leads us nicely into the picture heading this post.

I have endometriosis and have been put on Zoladex for the forseeable future as it is the only treatment that has successfully treated the large amount of tissue growth around my various organs, thus reducing the pain to a minimal amount. Had to have an implant yesterday and my tummy is still swollen. For those curious to know where that big fat needle goes, it goes here:
Yeah, that hurts, but not as much as say, having a wisdom tooth out, or slamming your chin on the side of the pool when trying to get out and clamping your teeth shut around your tongue (blood everywhere, I was traumatised for life), or indeed endometriosis itself.

What it does do is induce temporary menopause for the duration of the treatment. So I have been grouchy and irritable and neurotic and hopelessly insecure. The physical symptoms (hot flushes, night sweats, joint pain) are nothing compared to the emotional effects. I discussed it with my GP yesterday and she pointed out that this is what bad PMT is like and that I was feeling permanently what a lot of women feel for four days a month.

Ladies, if you've ever had to suffer this, let me say wholeheartedly now how much I respect and admire you. I've been lucky enough not to suffer from PMT, back when I was having the M, and truly cannot believe that it isn't a bigger issue in women's health.

As for me, I try to watch out for any extremes of behaviour so that I can attempt to put a stop to them, but it's difficult as I genuinely feel like I'm awful at everything, like I'm going to kill the person who insists on sniffing so loudly at the desk next to me, like I don't have enough tears to express the heartache I feel sporadically throughout the day, for no good reason.

Nevertheless, I've discovered the best indicator is Jason; when he gets that scared look on his face and starts quietly but carefully backing away, I know I've gone too far.