Well, fuck. Sad news for getupgrrl is casting a pall over everything. I don’t know what to say except to repeat that it’s not fair. It’s really not.
I had my Day 5 appointment at the clinic yesterday morning, and it should have been just easy peasy blood work, but it took the phlebotomist three tries to find a vein. They always look at me vaguely accusingly when they examine my arms--like I purposely made the vains hard to find.
Anyway, with the fresh bruises just beginning to form, I made my way to Spanish class (using the hell out of my Metrocard, by the way: 5 different subways before 9 am) where we were learning how say things with various times of day—just simple sentences like "Class starts at 9:30," "I return home at 6:00," "I am going out with Carmen at 8:00," etc. You know, your basic language learning stuff.
So, the question my instructor went around the room and asked everyone was "What time do you leave your house on Mondays?" Now, most of the kids leave their dorms around the corner from class at around 9:15 for a 9:30 class (Salen de sus residencias a las nueve y cuarto de la mañana). And then there's me, who left the house at 6 a.m. (Salgo de mi casa a las seis de la mañana) to go to the doctor. And I felt so old. I mean, I remember what it was like to be an undergraduate, and if I thought about pregnancy at all, it was always about how to avoid it. And look at me now.
After we'd mastered the concept of time (well, kind of), we talked about our plans for spring break. Somehow I managed to restrain myself and did not ask "How do you say intrauterine insemination in Spanish?" Instead, I pretended I was going to Cancun.
Maybe you can teach them to say, "Yes, I will donate my eggs" in Spanish. "Yes, I will be a gestational surrogate." Even better: "Good morning, teacher, here is the baby you ordered."
Posted by: getupgrrl | March 02, 2004 at 10:22 AM