It's a conspiracy...

There has to be a conspiracy out there... Things seriously couldn't be this pants unless there was one.

We have my sister's car while she's out the country. It won't start because himself thinks the alternator is dead. It's also got something wrong with the ABS system. Some cog somewhere needing fixed. My dad said the alternator was whining when they were down, so that's probably going to need replaced... Oh the joys.

Anyway, I still don't drive, so the car isn't a huge issue. I cycle everywhere... Work, the shops, train stations. All done on the bike. Well, I went to work today on my bike. Got in, chained it to the railings where I always chain it and went in to work. At lunchtime, one of the other guys in the office came up to me with the security guard and asked if my bike was the one on the end. It wasn't when I parked it, so I said no, but looked out the window anyway. The other one had gone. Mine was the one on the end.

Eeep...

Well, what happened was this... One part of the business uses vans. Someone was parking one of these vans and reversed it into the space a bit far. Guess what's behind the space...? You guessed it... The railing I chain my bike to...

My bike was technically fine, although unusable. The frame was OK and the wheels weren't buckled or anything. One of the pedals was nearly pushed into the wheel, but not quite, so the shaft is scrap, the saddle is squint, the bearing and crank shaft is knackered, the derailier is squished and the main gearing cog is bent out of shape. I didn't find out about the derailier and the gears till I went to pick it up... It's stuck in the shop till tomorrow and I had to walk home tonight. The one good point was that my bike got it's own back by making a hole in the van where the pedal punctured the bodywork. Questions will be asked of the driver, because they also bent the railings... Ooops...

On the good side of things, we are out tomorrow night at a Christmas Dinner for the group we were away with in July. I'm looking forward to it and it should be a good laugh as well as getting to see people we haven't seen for quite some time. Himself is doing well on the no-sugar diet, and doesn't appear to be suffering any major withdrawals... yet... Finally, on the good side of things, my alarm clock is not going to ring at 07:30 in the morning... although the telephone repair man might be leaning on the doorbell by 8...

How much money would you wager right now that he's going to suck air through his teeth, tut a bit, shake his head and say something along the lines of "Ooooh, that's not good. That's going to take a lot more than I've got to fix. I'll book you in for someone to come out with the right tools in a month or so..."?

I think I'd like to go to bed for a few months till the run of bad luck goes somewhere else...

And here's an update...

Well, I really hope this year isn't going to go on as it started. So far it's been a bit pants to be honest. It's had good points and bad points so far, but the bad ones seem to outweigh right now.

Let me see... Giving up smoking failed because I have the breaking strain of a soggy digestive. I at least managed to cut down to about 4 or 5 a day, which stops me being grouchy and has halved my normal. I'll cut down more as time goes on. I have enough trouble trying to keep cheerful with all the stuff going on without having withdrawal symptoms and taking it out on himself. Sorting out my sewing has failed because I haven't had the time with himself to get the house a bit more organised. You guessed it: He's been on nights again. That put a big slap on the house cleaning too because I don't like to be doing noisy stuff like hoovering or rummaging around while he's trying to get his eight hours in. As for the rest of it, well I already blogged about that bit. Not impressed with the health service in the slightest.

I'm sort of in a lull at the moment. My body hates me (for those playing catch-up, I've been having a period for the last three and a half months. It just decided to get heavier again. I'm drained), my phone doesn't work (they're coming to fix that tomorrow I hope), and I'm really in a quandry about what to do as far as the fertility treatment goes. Do I just call it quits and go ahead with the hysterectomy as planned? Do I fight my corner and maybe get into a legal battle that could cost a lot of money if I don't win? If I do go that route, would it shorten the length of time before they do anything? And if they do, will they just do a three-day transfer with the IVF which has a much lower chance of success than the blast transfer (5 or 6 days after fertilisation) that would give more hope, just so they can say they did it but it failed?

I'm trying to be happy and cheerful and I can mostly manage it, especially at work, because I'm so busy I don't have time to think about stuff too much. At home it's a bit more difficult. I spend time on my own, which leads to brooding about stuff and getting morose. I'm also suffering from lack of sleep. Himself has a cold and he kept coughing last night. It's not his fault, and I don't blame him. It's just one of those things. I'll probably get it and then cough all night too, keeping myself awake. Everyone has the cold at the moment, so it's not like I'm going to avoid it.

I've been trying to keep everything at home light and nice, but himself has got so used to me being grouchy, I don't think he knows how to take the cheery-self that I've tried to become. My jokes fall flat because he sometimes doesn't realise that I'm joking... It will take time, but I think it will get better at least in that respect. It would be nice to have some time to sit and talk, but past chats have been strained, and I think we both go into them expecting the worst, so say very little. Getting time to talk is hard as well, but I hope that can be managed at some point...

Good news time: Himself had an interview and he said it went well, so I'm keeping my fingers crossed for him. It's a sideways step, but it's Monday to Friday, 9 to 5 with occasional shiftwork if required. It would be better for him, because then he's not having to get used to being awake all night, then up at the crack of dawn to do 11 hour early turns, then onto more nights, then lates, back onto nights, more nights... His body clock doesn't know if it's coming or going right now. A little stability would be a good thing. It won't hurt having him home more often either, and perhaps we can get some of the stuff done that we want to, like redecorating and getting things shifted around to make more space in the house and somewhere for me to work and him to potter with his tools or to make his model vehicles.

Ah well... We won't know for a few days at least, but I'm hopeful. Things can only get better... I hope...

National Health Service... Means free healthcare for everyone...

... But only if you live in the right part of the country...

Another day, another reason to hate the health service... As if I didn't have enough reason already since they effectively screwed me out of a good job by being so slow with appointments.

This time I'm sat here wondering why I bother. I bother because I can't afford to go private. I am not eligible to jump through their rediculous hoops, don't have a microscope to read the small print, and the Primary Care Trusts need a dictionary for the middle part of their title.

I'm 34. I think I'm old enough to be seriously listening to my biological clock and NOT be having to wait another 18 months to join their rediculously long waiting lists till I'm too old to fit their criteria. If they don't want to spend money on fertility treatment, why don't they say so? Oh yes, that's right, because the press would have a field day about it and they would be bad little pen-pushing beurocrats who don't give a damn. So they have to be seen to "Care" and offer IVF to people over 36 and under 40. That's a 3-year window. Not long enough for more than two cycles of IVF once you've sat on the waiting list for two years. By the time you're actually getting treatment, the chance of having a child has dropped from 15% to 10%. Prior to the age of 36, the chance is slightly better at 20%, but that would mean the little beurocrats would have to stump up money to fund pre- and ante-natal care. They'd have to pay midwives. They'd have to spend more on babycare units. You know, the resources being used up by the 14 year olds who can't keep their bloody legs shut till they're at least legally able to do so. Or the resources being used up by the older, chavvy types who have 16 kids crammed into a 2-bed semi with another on the way because they got drunk and had a shag outside some shitty nightclub somewhere while their kids were being looked after by anyone but them. You know the type.

To get IVF you have to have no other children, be a non-smoker, be over 36, have had fertility issues for over 5 years and have the patience of a saint. The PCT guidelines apparently use the NICE (National Institute for Clinical Excellence) guide to formulate what treatment they will give. I read the NICE document about fertility. It says at LEAST one and UP TO three IVF cycles should be made available to anyone between the ages of 23 AND 39 who have no previous children and have had fertility issues for at least TWO years. Anyone else here see the glaringly obvious differences here? I can see a 13 year age difference for a start...

I'm angry. I'm upset. It took a lot of thinking, talking with himself and searching within myself to go from wanting a hysterectomy to making the decision to ask about IVF. I was told by my gynae that I was the perfect age and that it would be available on the NHS. I was told today by my doctor that basically, by the time I reach the age to fit their criteria, they'll probably have changed them again. It's a postcode lottery and it sucks. I plan to write to the doctor and ask for a letter confirming what she said. I then plan to go to my MP with the NICE guidelines and the letter from the doctor and tell him what's happened. I then plan to sue the health service. Maybe I'll win enough money to go private, but by then I'll be too old to be wanting kids anyway. They still win in the end.

I feel sorry for himself. He's now got to be the one here looking after me in my angry/upset stage, and it's really not fair. I'll try and be a nicer person... I just feel the need to get some of the stress out my system first. I'll bake something tomorrow that requires things being pulverised.