I feel like the top string of my out-of-tune piano.  Pulled really tight.  I need to have a good, hormonal cry but I’m expecting electricians and other tradesmen to clomp into my house at any moment and start running up thousands more dollars of unpayable rehab bills while traumatizing my kitty and leaving the toilet seat up. 

I went in and had my day three baseline workup for my transfer yesterday, which went fine.  My clinic personnel always call me with the results of bloodwork almost as breathlessly as they deliver beta results, even though my bloodwork has been predictable and my linings and levels generally cooperate (except betas, of course). 

It just strikes me as almost funny that I always get the message that my levels are "just fine" right when I’m feeling absolutely hopelessly face-down depressed and miserable.  The physician’s assistant person who calls me always tells me in tones of chipper approval "Your estrogen is under 10" as though I personally accomplished something important, when I suspect that said low estrogen is the very reason why all I want to do is cry, eat chocolate, and wish I were somebody else.  Things like my baseball team playing badly and the day being slightly cloudy seem to be unbearabilities of the highest order. 

Sigh.  I chose this.  I. chose. this. 

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