One week later, we're at 2239. A fine number, and entirely comparable to last time (this is a day earlier, again). Progesterone today? Unknown, but the the Saturday number had made it in and was "fine" at 31.
So that's it for bloodwork. Dr. D has changed his mind about early ultrasounds. Last time I had to wait until 7 weeks. Now he wants to check for ectopics, so I'm going in in six days and then again a week and a half later to look for a heartbeat.
The bloom is off the new semester. Well -- it was never really on, I suppose, with the 2ww and all, and the book manuscript coming back from the copy editor and due on MONDAY FUCKING MONDAY OH MY GOD.
So I haven't been doing a very good job of prepping, or grading, or being aware that my students exist as separate people with, like, names and opinions and needs and stuff.
For my upper level elective, it's been okay. I'm terribly lucky that it's huge and filled with enthusiastic students -- that makes everything so much easier.
But ergonomics-for-the-awkward? The class I have never been happy with, and neither have been its desperate distribution-requirement-fulfilling students? That I was supposed to redesign last summer, but then the book, the fucking book, and two goddamn cycles ate up all the time?
It could be worse -- and has been. But today I got e-mail from a student too, um, tired to come to class, and then e-mail from another that I'd offended in lecture, and -- and I don't want to get defensively depressed about it this early, really I don't, it's so unhealthy to do that, but it's going to be hard not to.
I'm really sort of obsessing about the second e-mail. If I'd been able to focus, really focus as I prepped, I don't think there would have been a problem.
I'm still maintaining faith that after the manuscript goes OUT THE FUCKING DOOR I'll be able to catch up. But so much of the quality of the interaction is determined by what happens at the outset, and I have let some of them down already.