I'm going to warn you now. Some of you are going to finish reading this entry and scream TMI. ("Too much information!" for the abbreviationally-challenged.) If you keep reading past this point, it's all your fault if you're offended. It's my stinkin' journal, for goodness' sake.

I'm thinking of going back on the pill. I've been off for ten months now—and yes, it does take me a while to come to decisions like this, hush! I'm still not totally sure I'll do anything about it; perhaps I'm waiting for things to get so annoying that I feel I have to get back on the pills NOW or it's all going to drive me crazy.My prescription lapsed in January. For those of you who remember, I was finishing up at my helljob at the credit union in January. I didn't have enough time to curl up in a ball and cry, much less get to a doctor.

A snippet of lyric from the song currently playing:

it possesses me controls me it makes me run and it makes me kill
the very thing that made me strong has taken all my will"
      - Fleming & John, "The Pearl"

So, anyway. I didn't go to the gynecologist—and trust me, going to the gyn is one of my least favorite things in all the world to do, closely followed by flossing with shigawire. (Bonus if you get that.) When I quit Redstone, I didn't have another job lined up, so I was a stay-at-home spouse for a little while. During that time, I was trying not to spend any money that I didn't have to spend, and pills fell into that category.

I just haven't gotten up the gumption to go back since. I have a nearly-legendary terror of doctors; consider that after my accident, Brad and Andy and Sean had to nearly threaten me with death to make me go to the emergency room to get checked out. Since I'm not in any immediate danger, you'd better believe it's going to take a lot to get me to a doctor.

You know what might do it? The zits. *sigh* *laugh* A little ridiculous, isn't it? I'm in the midst of a nasty acne breakout, and it's driving me crazy. The patch of skin below the left corner of my mouth has been broken out for several weeks now, and it's been bothering me a lot lately. It doesn't look bad—in fact, by looking at me you probably wouldn't realize that it's as bad as it is—but it's just icky.

I've been on bcp's for several years now, and sometimes I have trouble even admitting to myself that I'm never going to be able to go off of them. I've spent all of 2000 essentially in denial about it all, hoping that things would correct themselves. But it's just not going to happen, as far as I can tell.

It's pretty simple, actually. No pills, no menstrual cycles. Period. (yeah, yeah, bad pun. I know.) Haven't had a single one since going off the pills in January (and yes, it's almost October, and no, I'm not pregnant). After a lot of digging and questioning, I know that what I have is probably polycystic ovarian syndrome.

The only way to know for sure is to have an ovarian sonogram. The only way our insurance will pay for it is if Jeff and I are trying to have children and have fertility problems. But since we're not trying to have kids, no go. Even better: the treatment for PCOS is to put the person in question on birth control pills. But even though my gynecologist prescribes the bcp's as "medically necessary," our insurance won't pay for the pills.

It's frustrating. Reeeeeeally frustrating.

Granted, it's hard to miss having an annoying period, but it worries me a bit because I know that this absence isn't a good thing.

Every once in a while, I have fleeting thoughts of what it's going to be like to grow old without having children around. I should emphasize that they're pretty fleeting—I think about it and realize that I like the idea of having grandchildren (I'd make a smashing grandmother, just ask my friends) but that I find the idea of being pregnant a bit revolting. Not to mention that I really don't like children anyway; I find them exasperating after more than ten minutes.

I sometimes regret that I never really had much of a choice as to whether or not to have kids. I guess I should be grateful things have worked out the way they did—since I don't really want children, the thought of not being able to have them isn't painful.

Now just to get over my dislike of doctors so that I can get another year's worth of pill prescriptions.

I just wish my face would clear up.