Since my last post, I've been counting the 28 days to see if I'd get it again, or if I'd have to call to get a Provera refill. When 28 days came and went, I decided to pad it (no pun intended) a few days to see if anything would happen. Heck, it's been two years and I can't just expect my body to remember what to do on its own right away again, right?
Wrong!
I woke up this morning to find out that Aunt Flo finally made her flight on her own, even if she missed her scheduled departure by a few days. She must've been hanging out with Tom Hanks in the bathroom.