Elizabeth (greyautumnrain) wrote,


First, the pregnancy news. I was a bad girl and let my cell phone battery die over the weekend, maybe earlier. I did not charge it until Wednesday. When I finally got it back on I noticed I had a voice mail. Turned out it was the OB office. I called back, and found that all of last week's test were fine except for one. It turns out that I am anemic. Oops.

This is not entirely surprising. I have flirted with anemia in the past, mostly in my teens. Spinach happens to be my favorite vegetable, but between my various current food aversions and all the extra blood my body is making at the moment, I am not getting enough. I had the following exchange with the nurse on the phone:

Nurse: Do you eat meat?
Me: I did, before I got pregnant.

When I retold it to psychohist that night he burst out laughing. The nurse may not have seen the humor in it, but the smell of bacon and eggs has caused me to throw up. The smell of fish has given me dry heaves. I don't want pork chops, and I'm even refusing steak. When presented with anything even remotely greasy I start gagging. We've been joking for weeks that the fetus takes after it's Aunt Margaret. 'You're not going to eat that! Do you know how unhealthy that is?'

Well, that's the happy/funny part of the post over with.

I spoke to my parents on Wednesday. Mom wanted to get all the latest on the pregnancy & puking situation of course. Dad seemed oddly unenthusiastic, that is until I found out why. Dad had just found out that his best friend from the army has colon cancer. I've no idea how bad it is. Apparently there is an operation scheduled, so at least it's not in the 'don't even bother' category. Still, it's obviously a big deal.

Dad has had people he's known from his army days die before. And his friend is just seriously ill at this point, death is far from a certainty. Still, this one is different. This is the guy who enlisted at the same time as my Dad and they were together for their nine years, or at least that is my understanding. This is the guy we visit whenever we go to England, the one who travelled across the Atlantic just for my wedding. If you were at my wedding you might remember him, a tallish guy with the remnants of whispy fair hair and a permanently cheerful expression. Of course my dad is normally cheerful too. Both of them seem to have express the famed British stiff upper lip as a tendency to poke fun at just about anything. Wednesday, though, my Dad wasn't poking any fun. He was sadder than I can remember him being I was sad too, though as much for my Dad as for his friend. I hope this is just a nasty hint about mortality, and not the start of my Dad loosing close friends his own age.

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