I finally got to sleep last night, and we went in early this morning.
While we were in the waiting room this morning, The Man was reading
the paper, and there was a quote I could see from where I sat.
“To share your weakness is to make yourself vulnerable; to make yourself vulnerable is to show your strength.”
-Criss Jami
The ultrasound looked good: the follicle was a. still there, and b. just over 18, so ready to go. We went in, there was a new anaesthesiologist. I had an entertaining conversation with him, the gist of which is that he could tell I wasn't from around here. He made me solemnly swear not to turn into some entitled Marin Mom in a silver SUV. Like I could! So we laughed about that. Insertion of the IV was effortless this time.
Then, BAM! I was awake. Probably before I was supposed to be. Awake, and coherent. They were confident, they had gotten the follicle. The Man came in to wait with me. We joked back and forth a little with the nurses.
Then Dr. C came in. They couldn't find an egg. He suspected the follicle had been empty- my low AMH would be an indicator, although it's also possible that they missed it or the retrieval was botched. (He didn't mention that possibility, however, Google let me know.) Evidently it happens more with women who are older, and in conjunction with fertility drugs. I've never heard of it before. It was almost worse: having that tiny space of hope- that 15 minutes of joy, before it was snatched away.
Dr. C wants me to move on to donor eggs. He also wanted to leave, but I had so many questions, and managed to get out 5 or six before I got overwhelmed. I am supposed to meet with him next week.
I swear, when he said "donor eggs"- I was still attached to the heart monitor, and I could hear the beat speed up appreciably as I struggled to control my emotions. Fuck! What a waste. What a fucking waste. Those are the words that keep going through my head, in an endless shifting parade of emphasis and capitalization and exclamation points.
He left, and one of the nurses, Judy: she made sure I had Kleenex, helped me sit up, and released me from all my wires, and then she said, "I have been in this line of work for 25 years, and it's torture to see these things- the worst things- happen to the nicest people. Don't give up."
Then she left, and I got up. The Man grabbed me to help me off the bench onto the floor, and we just held each other. I could feel him shaking while I cried. He just patted my back and said he loved me, while I basically dissolved and saturated the front of his shirt.
I gave myself most of today to break down: to mourn the disappearing likelihood of having a child that is all our own. We simply cannot afford to do this over and over again: I am not referring to money- not to dismiss that either, but this process is breaking my heart. I know we have done everything possible, so far, to enhance our chances of success with this. The knowledge that crack whores get pregnant every day still rankles, but I have accepted that for me, this is just not going to be easy, and in fact, is pretty soul-shatteringly difficult.
I have two weeks, more or less, before day one. So about a week for me to decide what the next move is.
Showing posts with label IVF. Show all posts
Showing posts with label IVF. Show all posts
Thursday, October 11, 2012
Wednesday, October 10, 2012
And panic sets in
Today has been fairly uneventful. Well, you know. no shots, no doctors visit. I got the news from Dr. C that my lh surge had already started when I took the trigger shot. So- that's good, and yet not- I am worried that there will be nothing there tomorrow when they check.
I did get to have a long talk with an old friend. It's funny how life works to throw people together, especially in this age of Facebook! *waves*
Anyway. I was doing FINE, although not particularly hungry for dinner. I made myself eat my leftovers from lunch, because I won't be able to eat until tomorrow afternoon. I took my pills religiously. I cleaned the kitchen. I did my nails, applied a face mask and did a hot oil treatment, and picked out some sassy "stirrup socks" to wear tomorrow. And then I sat down to drink tea and watch tv.
The Man came in, and sat in his chair beside me, and I couldn't even tell you what movie we were watching. I was just suddenly so overwhelmed, with fear and anxiety. The Man saw a tear roll down my face, and gestured to me to get into his lap, and I made a token protest: "I'm all oily and gross!" But he insisted, and held me close. And all I could say was, "I am so scared. What if it happens again? What if there's nothing?!" And I hung onto him for dear life while we both cried.
Everything I have ever done that scared the hell out of me has been more than worth it, in the end. I haven't done many of those things: I was disinterested, I was careful, I was ambivalent. This is something else. No risk, no reward.
I have to go to bed. We need to be at the office early tomorrow- I will have my answer at 8AM or so.
I did get to have a long talk with an old friend. It's funny how life works to throw people together, especially in this age of Facebook! *waves*
Anyway. I was doing FINE, although not particularly hungry for dinner. I made myself eat my leftovers from lunch, because I won't be able to eat until tomorrow afternoon. I took my pills religiously. I cleaned the kitchen. I did my nails, applied a face mask and did a hot oil treatment, and picked out some sassy "stirrup socks" to wear tomorrow. And then I sat down to drink tea and watch tv.
The Man came in, and sat in his chair beside me, and I couldn't even tell you what movie we were watching. I was just suddenly so overwhelmed, with fear and anxiety. The Man saw a tear roll down my face, and gestured to me to get into his lap, and I made a token protest: "I'm all oily and gross!" But he insisted, and held me close. And all I could say was, "I am so scared. What if it happens again? What if there's nothing?!" And I hung onto him for dear life while we both cried.
Everything I have ever done that scared the hell out of me has been more than worth it, in the end. I haven't done many of those things: I was disinterested, I was careful, I was ambivalent. This is something else. No risk, no reward.
I have to go to bed. We need to be at the office early tomorrow- I will have my answer at 8AM or so.
Tuesday, October 2, 2012
Just Go With It
My appointment on Thursday told the same story. Nada. Zip. Zero. On Day 14.One of the awesome office ladies informed me that per doctor's orders, I was coming back in on Monday, and if there was still nothing brewing, we would be calling Freedom Pharmacy with another whopping order. Dr. Charming is going out of town on a three day weekend, at what could potentially be a crucial time- and he wants all his IVF patients to be taken care of beforehand. So my recalcitrant ovaries were posing a problem.
"Let me get this straight", I said. "So: this three day vacation of his could end up costing us another few thousand dollars? For drugs that don't work on me?"
Sympathetic silence from the other end of the phone. Crap.
So: the next call I made, in desperation, was to my acupuncturist. Was there anything "Chinese" I could do? He advised that I take some of the herbs I usually take at mid-cycle- the aptly named "Mobilize". He said he had no clue if they would work, but it was worth a shot.
"Let me get this straight", I said. "So: this three day vacation of his could end up costing us another few thousand dollars? For drugs that don't work on me?"
Sympathetic silence from the other end of the phone. Crap.
So: the next call I made, in desperation, was to my acupuncturist. Was there anything "Chinese" I could do? He advised that I take some of the herbs I usually take at mid-cycle- the aptly named "Mobilize". He said he had no clue if they would work, but it was worth a shot.
I also had: I don’t know how to describe it. Maybe an epiphany?
I was lying in bed Sunday night, (the night before the appointment) and The Man was snoring away, and I was just overcome. As awful as all of this is, I
am so lucky to have what I have. There are people all over the world who have
so much less. I was just so grateful to be moving forward, and to still
have options. And I thanked God for my blessings, and I thought, “Well,
this is it- I will know tomorrow. If there’s nothing, maybe I should just see
it as a sign that this is not the time. But if there is something, then I am
going to take it and run with it. And be thankful either way that I have the
resources to handle whatever happens."
And then I went in yesterday and got the news that things were
finally starting to happen. I had one follicle coming along on the left, and two on the right. "Mobilize" evidently did the trick. We agreed that I would take small doses of injectables- just Gonal, no Menopur this time- and hope that I get three shots at it this cycle. Which seems almost too good to be true.
And upon leaving the doctor’s office, walking on
air, I came within inches of being backed over by a delivery van.
One more step, and it would have flattened me. And instead of being
infuriated at their negligence, I am just awed at my luck, and grateful that
they missed. I can’t help seeing it as a sign, even though that’s a little “woo
woo”- I’ve become superstitious after years of dealing with this, what can I
say?
Tuesday, September 4, 2012
The good, and bad, and the really crappy.
Today was- well, basically, horrible. Just an FYI.
I went in. I met my anesthesiologist, made polite small talk, and tried not to freak out when he couldn't get the IV into my hand- it hurt like a mo-fo. He ended up using the site I had initially suggested- The "magical blue dot" on the inside of my right elbow hasn't failed me yet.
That's basically the last thing I remember- getting the IV situated, Dr. Charming coming in...and then I woke up, to see The Man and Dr. C, and knowing from the facial expressions that something was wrong.
I ovulated early. I went through anesthesia and the whole crapload, only to have them go in, and my egg had already flown the coop. Follicles on the right were too small to retrieve. So it was all a bust.
Dr. C had immediate suggestions, because of course, tears.
We could wait this cycle out, I could do an IUI...because after all, my husband's sample was really good. At which point I blurted out, "Because the problem is ME. I am the weak link here, right? I have had six medicated IUI's- none of them worked!" The worst part was seeing my husband's face, while he tried to hold on to my left hand- which wasn't swathed in gauze. And Dr. C said, "Well, we discussed donor eggs too. Maybe we should talk about that. What do you want to do?
And I, tear streaked and groggy on the table, nasal cannula still in, just started repeating, "I just want to go home. I just want to go home. I can't talk about this right now."
And Dr. C left the room, and my husband's face was so full of sorrow, and it was awful. While I processed all the money that had been wasted, in the form of drugs that didn't do what they were supposed to do, and the anesthesia which I went through for absolutely no reason. Which we will also have to pay for. And I was filled with such- loss. And fury. And incredible frustration.
The nurse came in, detached my cannula, and looked horrified when I ripped off the multiple layers of tape and bloody gauze from the initial IV site on my hand. It was obvious that I was developing a big purple swelling which would turn into a bruise the diameter of a silver dollar. She suggested that The Man would need to help me get dressed, as I would be wobbly. I waited until she was gone until I hopped off the table, fueled with adrenaline, and managed to get dressed with no assistance. Yet another indicator that I'm an alien- coming out of anesthesia like that is typical, for me.
I asked to speak with the doctor again. He said early ovulation is really rare. I asked why we hadn't done an ultrasound before surgery. I think he said that would be a good idea next time. We ended up deciding to just do an IUI, and hopefully catch the egg. I made a reference to sending in "Seal Team Six", which would mean that my uterus is Pakistan, and the egg is Osama Bin Laden, which really isn't as funny. And not accurate, as it is most likely "Seal Team 100 Million."
They told us that we should come back in 30 minutes for my IUI. All I could think of wanting to eat was a Chai Frappuccino- which isn't Paleo, but I think on a day like this, I am entitled.
So yeah. We got Frappuccinos and did our seventh medicated IUI. The Man held my hand. I have pretty much been ok and resting quietly in bed today, aside from a few bouts of teariness and the requisite update calls to Mom. And my acupuncturist. I am taking herbs that should improve the likelihood of fertilization and implantation. We will see.
I did some online research. That trigger shot is supposed to work in 36-48 hours, but some women ovulate up to 12 hours earlier. I just got lucky, I guess.
So, against all our plans, the 2ww is upon me. I am trying to be hopeful, but the odds are definitely against me.
I went in. I met my anesthesiologist, made polite small talk, and tried not to freak out when he couldn't get the IV into my hand- it hurt like a mo-fo. He ended up using the site I had initially suggested- The "magical blue dot" on the inside of my right elbow hasn't failed me yet.
That's basically the last thing I remember- getting the IV situated, Dr. Charming coming in...and then I woke up, to see The Man and Dr. C, and knowing from the facial expressions that something was wrong.
I ovulated early. I went through anesthesia and the whole crapload, only to have them go in, and my egg had already flown the coop. Follicles on the right were too small to retrieve. So it was all a bust.
Dr. C had immediate suggestions, because of course, tears.
We could wait this cycle out, I could do an IUI...because after all, my husband's sample was really good. At which point I blurted out, "Because the problem is ME. I am the weak link here, right? I have had six medicated IUI's- none of them worked!" The worst part was seeing my husband's face, while he tried to hold on to my left hand- which wasn't swathed in gauze. And Dr. C said, "Well, we discussed donor eggs too. Maybe we should talk about that. What do you want to do?
And I, tear streaked and groggy on the table, nasal cannula still in, just started repeating, "I just want to go home. I just want to go home. I can't talk about this right now."
And Dr. C left the room, and my husband's face was so full of sorrow, and it was awful. While I processed all the money that had been wasted, in the form of drugs that didn't do what they were supposed to do, and the anesthesia which I went through for absolutely no reason. Which we will also have to pay for. And I was filled with such- loss. And fury. And incredible frustration.
The nurse came in, detached my cannula, and looked horrified when I ripped off the multiple layers of tape and bloody gauze from the initial IV site on my hand. It was obvious that I was developing a big purple swelling which would turn into a bruise the diameter of a silver dollar. She suggested that The Man would need to help me get dressed, as I would be wobbly. I waited until she was gone until I hopped off the table, fueled with adrenaline, and managed to get dressed with no assistance. Yet another indicator that I'm an alien- coming out of anesthesia like that is typical, for me.
I asked to speak with the doctor again. He said early ovulation is really rare. I asked why we hadn't done an ultrasound before surgery. I think he said that would be a good idea next time. We ended up deciding to just do an IUI, and hopefully catch the egg. I made a reference to sending in "Seal Team Six", which would mean that my uterus is Pakistan, and the egg is Osama Bin Laden, which really isn't as funny. And not accurate, as it is most likely "Seal Team 100 Million."
They told us that we should come back in 30 minutes for my IUI. All I could think of wanting to eat was a Chai Frappuccino- which isn't Paleo, but I think on a day like this, I am entitled.
So yeah. We got Frappuccinos and did our seventh medicated IUI. The Man held my hand. I have pretty much been ok and resting quietly in bed today, aside from a few bouts of teariness and the requisite update calls to Mom. And my acupuncturist. I am taking herbs that should improve the likelihood of fertilization and implantation. We will see.
I did some online research. That trigger shot is supposed to work in 36-48 hours, but some women ovulate up to 12 hours earlier. I just got lucky, I guess.
So, against all our plans, the 2ww is upon me. I am trying to be hopeful, but the odds are definitely against me.
Sunday, September 2, 2012
Home stretch
Sunday, 3 day weekend. 9AM. I was expecting a nurse to show up for my ultrasound. But no: There was Dr. Charming, in his scrubs.
Things are pretty good: Lefty's follicle is now up to 19 plus, Righty is still cooking along: but I was so uncomfortable and it is so far out there, all we could detect is a far-off ovary with a shadowy "something" inside. (Narnia!) We decided that when I am under anesthesia, he will take another look, and move forward accordingly.I am hoping to get more than one follicle out of this, so I guess we will be in suspense until the last possible minute.
Soo- last shot of Cetritide was this morning, trigger shot tonight. It will be the first of three. I have done so many IUI's, but never a retrieval, so this is all new territory for me. I am scheduled for 9:30 AM on Tuesday. Incredibly nervous, and excited. The Man has been briefed, I think we are ready.
We talked about baby names last night- something we haven't done for years now. This is such a big deal for us both- I hope the gamble pays off, this time.
I need to talk to my acupuncturist- since I will no longer be on any kind of medication, I need to see if there is anything I can do or take on my end, that will naturally help my body do what it needs to do. That should be an interesting conversation...
Things are pretty good: Lefty's follicle is now up to 19 plus, Righty is still cooking along: but I was so uncomfortable and it is so far out there, all we could detect is a far-off ovary with a shadowy "something" inside. (Narnia!) We decided that when I am under anesthesia, he will take another look, and move forward accordingly.I am hoping to get more than one follicle out of this, so I guess we will be in suspense until the last possible minute.
Soo- last shot of Cetritide was this morning, trigger shot tonight. It will be the first of three. I have done so many IUI's, but never a retrieval, so this is all new territory for me. I am scheduled for 9:30 AM on Tuesday. Incredibly nervous, and excited. The Man has been briefed, I think we are ready.
We talked about baby names last night- something we haven't done for years now. This is such a big deal for us both- I hope the gamble pays off, this time.
I need to talk to my acupuncturist- since I will no longer be on any kind of medication, I need to see if there is anything I can do or take on my end, that will naturally help my body do what it needs to do. That should be an interesting conversation...
Friday, August 31, 2012
Who's Who
OK. After today's appointment, it is looking like Option C. I still really only have one dominant follicle on the left.
Righty is still ticking along though. The follicle that was at 7 Wednesday is up to 10 today- and it has a teeny, tiny friend, as well. Maybe I will end up with a bonus, as opposed to "too little, too late." Fingers crossed! Lefty is hanging tough with a 15.
So: Operation Carbonite is launching. I talked to Dr. Charming, and got financial info today. Honestly, it's not that much more expensive....actually less expensive, without the whopping drug order from Freedom Pharmacy. We signed up for a three month tour. Natural Cycle IVF. Here we go!
I am keeping up with my Cetritide, but tonight is my last Menopur dose- and Gonal-F has been slashed, down to 150 IU's. I go in for yet another ultrasound on Sunday, and then the big retrieval is on Tuesday. Hopefully we can get an embryo out of this. If we do- that will be the closest I have ever knowingly gotten to getting pregnant. Fingers crossed.
In the meantime, I have gotten addicted to Dr. Who. Which is good, because it's very "fluffy" sci-fi- entertaining and distracting, both qualities I require in a TV show at this point. And I can knit AND watch at the same time!
Today is a good day. I want to be out and about- I may actually go out in public and do some shopping!
Righty is still ticking along though. The follicle that was at 7 Wednesday is up to 10 today- and it has a teeny, tiny friend, as well. Maybe I will end up with a bonus, as opposed to "too little, too late." Fingers crossed! Lefty is hanging tough with a 15.
So: Operation Carbonite is launching. I talked to Dr. Charming, and got financial info today. Honestly, it's not that much more expensive....actually less expensive, without the whopping drug order from Freedom Pharmacy. We signed up for a three month tour. Natural Cycle IVF. Here we go!
I am keeping up with my Cetritide, but tonight is my last Menopur dose- and Gonal-F has been slashed, down to 150 IU's. I go in for yet another ultrasound on Sunday, and then the big retrieval is on Tuesday. Hopefully we can get an embryo out of this. If we do- that will be the closest I have ever knowingly gotten to getting pregnant. Fingers crossed.
In the meantime, I have gotten addicted to Dr. Who. Which is good, because it's very "fluffy" sci-fi- entertaining and distracting, both qualities I require in a TV show at this point. And I can knit AND watch at the same time!
Today is a good day. I want to be out and about- I may actually go out in public and do some shopping!
Wednesday, August 29, 2012
All in all it's just- another shot in the gut.
Oh Cetritide! It burns us, my precious.
Just got back from my ultrasound. Lefty came up with a 14, and Righty actually coughed up something: a teensy 7, but I will take it. I may have uttered a tiny "Gooo Righty!" when it popped up on the ultrasound monitor. Which, of course, everyone finds amusing.
So, now we are trying to decide what to do. I just gave myself the burny Cetritide shot, so I will impede ovulation, and give the follies a few days to get their act together. Dr. Charming said he saw several smaller follicles as well, which may be noteworthy later, but didn't want to poke around any further. (Getting a peek at that follicle on Righty was stressful for all of us.) So right now, it's still all about that one follicle on the left.
We had a little chat, and my options are as follows.
A. Go ahead with this cycle, in the understanding that it's got to be "The Little Ovum That Could". Be prepared for many Highlander quotes. "There can be ONLY ONE!!!"
B. Quit. Cancel cycle, start over next month.
C. Pursue a Natural Cycle IVF approach. Get me off drugs, collect the egg or two I make on my own every month, and put them on ice (flash vitrification!) until we have a few of them. Then do IVF. I asked about risk to egg quality, and he said it's about 10%.
D. Donor eggs. Still not ready to accept that one.
E.Killing spree. Wait to see how things look on Friday. If I have two viable follicles, go with option A. If I just have one, Option C.
Based on personal feelings and discussions with The Man, it's looking like E- "Some of the Above" is the answer, at least right now. Actually, The Man REALLY likes Option C. Possibly because Dr. Charming used the words: "Flash vitrification is like Star Wars- you know, when Han Solo gets frozen in Carbonite?" I guess he knows his audience.
Just got back from my ultrasound. Lefty came up with a 14, and Righty actually coughed up something: a teensy 7, but I will take it. I may have uttered a tiny "Gooo Righty!" when it popped up on the ultrasound monitor. Which, of course, everyone finds amusing.
So, now we are trying to decide what to do. I just gave myself the burny Cetritide shot, so I will impede ovulation, and give the follies a few days to get their act together. Dr. Charming said he saw several smaller follicles as well, which may be noteworthy later, but didn't want to poke around any further. (Getting a peek at that follicle on Righty was stressful for all of us.) So right now, it's still all about that one follicle on the left.
We had a little chat, and my options are as follows.
A. Go ahead with this cycle, in the understanding that it's got to be "The Little Ovum That Could". Be prepared for many Highlander quotes. "There can be ONLY ONE!!!"
B. Quit. Cancel cycle, start over next month.
C. Pursue a Natural Cycle IVF approach. Get me off drugs, collect the egg or two I make on my own every month, and put them on ice (flash vitrification!) until we have a few of them. Then do IVF. I asked about risk to egg quality, and he said it's about 10%.
D. Donor eggs. Still not ready to accept that one.
E.
Based on personal feelings and discussions with The Man, it's looking like E- "Some of the Above" is the answer, at least right now. Actually, The Man REALLY likes Option C. Possibly because Dr. Charming used the words: "Flash vitrification is like Star Wars- you know, when Han Solo gets frozen in Carbonite?" I guess he knows his audience.
Tuesday, August 28, 2012
Holy Toledo
Of course, after I wrote my obligatory, "You know what? I am fine!" post yesterday and signed off....there was the unmistakable rumble of thunder on the not-so distant horizon. The kind where you know that soon the music is going to start, and the funny guy (or the stupid girl, or both) is going to die.
By the end of the day, Hurricane Hormones was in full effect, and woe betide anyone who got in my way. Luckily, I recognized the signs, and forced myself to leave my cocoon/nest/fortress to get provisions before things got really, really bad.
I somehow managed to make it through without bludgeoning the Trader Joe's cashier to death with a can of coconut milk while screaming, "WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU? ARE YOU HIGH!!!!!!!!?"
I seriously don't know how I did it, because generally, a. everyone around here IS high 75% of the time, and b. by the time I got home, I was apoplectic about the way my groceries were bagged. Something that I would typically roll my eyes over and maybe merit a sigh, became a SUPER HUGE DEAL. The Man listened to me spew crazy profanity while I alternately vented, laughed about how insanely I was behaving, and then started venting again. I've turned into some kind of obsessive-compulsive bipolar lunatic, seemingly overnight. I think that KNOWING you're carrying on like a psycho, but being unable to help yourself, may be one of life's more frustrating experiences.
Mom called to ask how I was doing. I said, "I am getting a divorce and running away from home!" and then burst into hysterical laughter. I am sure she found it really reassuring.
God it's hot in here. Is anyone else hot? Just me? I am wearing pajama shorts and a tank top and the a/c is on and all the fans are maxed out. I look at The Man, and he is wearing jeans and a long-sleeved shirt- layered OVER another shirt. My face is all red, I am all sticky and gross. I am ready to strip down and run screaming through the streets, bludgeoning any potentially doobie-smoking members of the populace with my handbag, and spewing profanity at douchebag cyclists- identifiable by their spandex outfits- at random.
This can't be good. Luckily The Man has promised to restrain me if I get really wacky. At this point, I don't know if he can stop me. Demon hormones are more powerful than- really powerful stuff. Also, if I leave him, who can be relied upon to build me a bed of ice? Did I mention how effing hot it is?! RARGH!
That's another thing. I tend to rely on my wits somewhat, and they have completely deserted me. DAMN YOU HORMONES!!!!! You made me crazy, hot, AND stupid. I hate you! Unless you prove to actually work, in which case, hormones, I may forgive you. Eventually.
My doctor's appointment is tomorrow afternoon. I talked to Dr. Charming today, and he basically said that I am right- depending on what we see tomorrow, we will move forward. If there's still only one follicle, we can still do that, but the chances aren't great. Or we can cancel the cycle, and try again next month.
I was all good, until he mentioned donor eggs, and then I got all emo. (BECAUSE MY EGGS ARE OBVS ALL OLD AND REPTILIAN IN THEIR BARREN LEATHERINESS.) <----see that? Those are the hormones talking. Bastards!
Have I mentioned that I SUCK at waiting? Because that would not be an inaccurate statement.
By the end of the day, Hurricane Hormones was in full effect, and woe betide anyone who got in my way. Luckily, I recognized the signs, and forced myself to leave my cocoon/nest/fortress to get provisions before things got really, really bad.
I somehow managed to make it through without bludgeoning the Trader Joe's cashier to death with a can of coconut milk while screaming, "WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU? ARE YOU HIGH!!!!!!!!?"
I seriously don't know how I did it, because generally, a. everyone around here IS high 75% of the time, and b. by the time I got home, I was apoplectic about the way my groceries were bagged. Something that I would typically roll my eyes over and maybe merit a sigh, became a SUPER HUGE DEAL. The Man listened to me spew crazy profanity while I alternately vented, laughed about how insanely I was behaving, and then started venting again. I've turned into some kind of obsessive-compulsive bipolar lunatic, seemingly overnight. I think that KNOWING you're carrying on like a psycho, but being unable to help yourself, may be one of life's more frustrating experiences.
Mom called to ask how I was doing. I said, "I am getting a divorce and running away from home!" and then burst into hysterical laughter. I am sure she found it really reassuring.
God it's hot in here. Is anyone else hot? Just me? I am wearing pajama shorts and a tank top and the a/c is on and all the fans are maxed out. I look at The Man, and he is wearing jeans and a long-sleeved shirt- layered OVER another shirt. My face is all red, I am all sticky and gross. I am ready to strip down and run screaming through the streets, bludgeoning any potentially doobie-smoking members of the populace with my handbag, and spewing profanity at douchebag cyclists- identifiable by their spandex outfits- at random.
This can't be good. Luckily The Man has promised to restrain me if I get really wacky. At this point, I don't know if he can stop me. Demon hormones are more powerful than- really powerful stuff. Also, if I leave him, who can be relied upon to build me a bed of ice? Did I mention how effing hot it is?! RARGH!
That's another thing. I tend to rely on my wits somewhat, and they have completely deserted me. DAMN YOU HORMONES!!!!! You made me crazy, hot, AND stupid. I hate you! Unless you prove to actually work, in which case, hormones, I may forgive you. Eventually.
My doctor's appointment is tomorrow afternoon. I talked to Dr. Charming today, and he basically said that I am right- depending on what we see tomorrow, we will move forward. If there's still only one follicle, we can still do that, but the chances aren't great. Or we can cancel the cycle, and try again next month.
I was all good, until he mentioned donor eggs, and then I got all emo. (BECAUSE MY EGGS ARE OBVS ALL OLD AND REPTILIAN IN THEIR BARREN LEATHERINESS.) <----see that? Those are the hormones talking. Bastards!
Have I mentioned that I SUCK at waiting? Because that would not be an inaccurate statement.
Monday, August 27, 2012
Hope springs eternal
I got a call on Friday evening. It was Dr. Charming. Uh Oh.
Essentially he said my ovaries arelazy "sleepy", and that he wanted me to give them a little extra time. My estradiol was at a measly 15 when they checked it. Instead of ramping up the drugs, they asked me to take a break. So I took a few days off of my Gonal-F/Menopur thrill ride. So I spent Friday and Saturday drug-free, then started up again last night.
Aside from getting some crazy rises and dips in my morning temps, I haven't felt much of a difference. The Man and I were out at lunch yesterday. I am trying not to get my hopes up. I know there's a very good chance this cycle might be cancelled. Still...I keep telling myself, it only takes one. I know I have one.
Acupuncture was fairly routine today. I told my acupuncturist what was going on, and I think he is worried, but agreed that I can't afford to waste any more time. Next Monday is Labor day (OMG! 3-day weekend!) but he insisted that he will be there for me if I need a session post retrieval. I talked to The Man about it, and he will drive me to Sonoma, if necessary.
It's strange. I feel like this is happening to someone else. I was so completely out of my mind last time around. This time- I am craving sweets a little- trying to address that with fruit and dark chocolate. And I am irritable at times, or occasionally inexplicably weepy for a minute or two. But no existential despair, no cookie binging, no psychotic outbursts. So, that's something. I feel strangely calm. Honestly, that is freaking me out more than anything else is.
I asked The Man about it, and he agreed. "You're definitely not psycho," he said. "It's kind of a relief, except I am constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop. But this far in, I don't think that it's going to."
Wednesday, I go in for another ultrasound and blood draw. Hopefully, there is something percolating by then.
Essentially he said my ovaries are
Aside from getting some crazy rises and dips in my morning temps, I haven't felt much of a difference. The Man and I were out at lunch yesterday. I am trying not to get my hopes up. I know there's a very good chance this cycle might be cancelled. Still...I keep telling myself, it only takes one. I know I have one.
Acupuncture was fairly routine today. I told my acupuncturist what was going on, and I think he is worried, but agreed that I can't afford to waste any more time. Next Monday is Labor day (OMG! 3-day weekend!) but he insisted that he will be there for me if I need a session post retrieval. I talked to The Man about it, and he will drive me to Sonoma, if necessary.
It's strange. I feel like this is happening to someone else. I was so completely out of my mind last time around. This time- I am craving sweets a little- trying to address that with fruit and dark chocolate. And I am irritable at times, or occasionally inexplicably weepy for a minute or two. But no existential despair, no cookie binging, no psychotic outbursts. So, that's something. I feel strangely calm. Honestly, that is freaking me out more than anything else is.
I asked The Man about it, and he agreed. "You're definitely not psycho," he said. "It's kind of a relief, except I am constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop. But this far in, I don't think that it's going to."
Wednesday, I go in for another ultrasound and blood draw. Hopefully, there is something percolating by then.
Friday, August 24, 2012
Let's go follies, let's go! *clap*clap*clap*
I have one good-sized follicle on the left (where else) and as usual, righty is actually off the reservation. We caught a glimpse of it reclining somewhere, but a close-up didn't happen. Lazy bitch! I am trying not to panic. Today is only day 7. I have another week for the girls to get it in gear.I thought I glimpsed a tiny secondary follicle on the left, but Dr. Charming didn't measure it or say anything- the jury is out. I can feel crazy twinges on the left, so maybe. I am hoping it shows up on my next check-in on Sunday, and maybe brings some cute friends. 8:45 AM, baby. So much for sleeping in! Come on follies! There'll be punch and pie.....
I should get my bloodwork results later on tonight- they may be upping my dose of Gonal. That giant sucking sound you hear is from the enormous hole in our bank account.
I am doing OK: still upbeat, although I have been super tired and irrationally angry at The Man for "no reason". It's been so bad: I have been sitting on the couch hating his guts, and then I consider asking him if he knows why I am mad at him. Surely he must have done something, and I just forgot what it was, because OMG!!! ANGRY!!!!
Then I realize it is the hormones. The Crazy is locked and loaded.
It comes in handy when I find out things like the drama with my medical records. Kaiser, you stink. As it turns out, they decided not to run my HIV 1&2 tests, and just didn't tell me: and since Kaiser's policy is that they don't send you a printout, they just say, "You know those confidential tests you took? Alllll negative!" Well. I guess they were just talking about the Hep series. So I had to get another blood draw and have it rushed through my clinic. And my clinic also had to send three separate faxes to their medical records department: plus four or five calls from me, with me racheting up the hysteria each time- for them to finally send proof of my negative Hep results. Sheesh. But the good news is, that is finally all squared away.
I love my clinic. I may have already said this, but I seriously can't believe my luck. And it seems so....anti-climactic. I have been waiting for this for so long, and I am sure that is why. The crew thanked me for being so upbeat and fun today. Hopefully it will keep being anti-climactic. A BFP would be a fantastic first, for me.
Tuesday, August 21, 2012
Needled
That's right! I have an R.E. that I LIKE! Which is...well, if someone's going to be all up in your business, liking them should be a prerequisite.
Cycle day one was Saturday, which was basically a timing disaster. Some of my meds needed to be refrigerated, so they couldn't be shipped for Monday Delivery, and I needed to start shots on Monday: and have my baseline ultrasound.
So I called the pharmacy and the doc's office. I was worried about the pharmacy, and I finally got them to agree (after much wrangling) to ship a partial order of just the drugs I would need for Monday- which didn't need to be refrigerated, thank goodness. The culprit (Bad Cetritide!) will be arriving with the rest of the shipment today. Whew!
The doc's office: I figured I would get a call from a service, or a nurse. what I got was a phone call from my R.E. himself, at 7PM on a Saturday night, to set up my Monday appointment. He performs every procedure in the office. Color me impressed! In the old days, Dr. Combover never deigned to see me himself, I would always get a nurse or a lackey. Which is probably a good thing (because I didn't like him anyway), but STILL. Dr. Charming also gave me the results of my Counsyl test: I tested negative for all genetic issues that could be passed on, which is amazing news. The Man is on notice that if any potential kid we have is weird, he is to blame. ;)
I spent Sunday napping, getting things in order, and planning how to spend the next month. Taking it easy, distracting myself, avoiding stress, and generally make this as likely as possible to work. I downloaded funny books for my Kindle. I put the scale away. I am considering getting a Netflix membership, so I can watch lots of comedies. The bedroom has been somewhat revamped. I have a plan for lots of fertility yoga, meditation, and knitting. My nails and toes are painted with sparkly polish, and I am doing my utmost to feel attractive, distract myself, stay positive, and stay active- all things that are challenging during IF treatment.
So yesterday was crazy. I needed to pay for my cycle. We have had the requisite dinero set aside in cash for a long time, and I had to go deposit it in my bank account. I went in, thinking, "OK, this is going to be weird, I have a banded sheaf of $100 bills, the teller will look at me like I am a drug dealer." However, it actually ended up being more awkward, because evidently, if it's quiet at the bank branch, security will usher you over to one of the cubicle guys who usually sets up new accounts or looks over loan docs.
And of course- guess what happened to me?
So I made polite small talk, and commented on the luscious aroma wafting over from the guy's coffee (Peet's!) and finally just decided "The hell with it." And I whomped that wad of cash on his desk and said, "I need to deposit this."
He did a triple take and asked, "Did you just win in Vegas?" Which of course, reminded me of this. I am a gambler. Hopefully, a good one.
The actual doctor's appointment went well. I wrote checks on about 90% of the money I had just deposited. I submitted all the paperwork and signatures. I got checked out and my blood was drawn. I was told to stop taking any supplements except for prenatals. Bye Bye, testosterone cream! I won't miss you, Hopefully, you did your job. They did a "mock retrieval" (Or was it a "mock insemination"? Something like that) and said it should be a piece of cake and I had drunk the correct amount of water. Two "venti" Starbucks cups worth, an hour before I showed up. Duly noted. I was pleased to note that I have less padding on my stomach area, as they could see what they needed to see with just a regular ultrasound. Everything was pronounced A-OK, and I am supposed to go in again on Friday for a look-see.
When I got home, my box from Freedom Pharmacy had arrived. I did a quick review of the contents, and then got ready for more adventure- acupuncture. I am usually awful about relaxing while I am supposed to be, but this time, I forced myself to leave my phone in my pourse, so web surfing was not an option. I actually did fall asleep.
I took my first shots last night- 375 IU Gonal-F, 75 IU Menopur. Holy Mackerel. I forgot the stress of making sure you get the mix right, or you can waste 700 bucks with one wrong move. I seem to have a ridiculous amount of syringes. So there was a lot of fiddling before I finally got it right. And about an hour later, I swear, I was feeling strange effects: I was hot. HOT! And had a crazy heaviness through my pelvic region. Bam. 40 lb. ovaries are coming down the pipeline. I also kept sighing. The Man seems to be getting more and more nervous with each and every sigh. "Are you OK?!" he keeps asking me, anxiety in his eyes. Concern for my welfare? Terror that The Crazy is coming down the pipeline? I probably don't want to know!
My refrigerated box showed up today: a 12" cube stuffed solid with syringes, sharps containers, a plethora of drugs, and a refrigerated packet. So that's all set.
My parents and in-laws are on board. I am sending out texts and emails with updates- something I never thought I would find myself doing the last time around. I got another text last night from Dad that said, "Good Luck: fingers crossed. We are praying for you. Mom says she will come if you need help. Tell The Man that if he needs help, he's on his own." Bhahaha!
Mom called this morning. She keeps offering to come and visit, which is lovely, but really, there's not a lot she can do! I told her we would keep it in mind, on the off chance that I go completely nuts and The Man needs help restraining me.
She has been very impressed with her realization that so many people are struggling with this. She saw something in the comics today about two tiny birds sitting on a nest with a dozen giant eggs in it, and the father bird was talking to a friend on a nearby branch. The caption said "Just say no to fertility drugs!" She was hesitant telling me about it, as she was afraid I wouldn't think it was funny, and was obviously relieved when I laughed. Then she said," We are so excited for you honey. Just don't turn into OctoMom." I was a little horrified, and tried to explain the difference between what I was doing, and what the limitations were, and she she explained that she was only kidding. (Thank God.)
So I am getting very literal. Also, zitty. Freaking hormones.
Friday, August 10, 2012
Confucious Say...
Infertility makes you weird.
No really, it does. In some good ways, and some bad ways. One day, you're a completely sane and rational woman, who agrees it would be a good idea to go off the pill and "see what happens", and then: over time, with no positive test, things change.
You assume ridiculous post-coital positions, because, you know, gravity. GRAVITY. It's SCIENCE! You go to the health food store and spend your food budget on bee pollen. You research on the internet. And it escalates, and escalates, until you're wandering down a dark alley at the stroke of midnight with your grandmother's emerald ring to exchange with a crone for some baby potion.
OK, I am exaggerating, but not by much. If you'd told me 10 years ago that I would be taking 50 thousand herbal supplements and cutting out wheat and obsessing about eating organic, doing acupuncture and yoga and meditation and trying not to step on sidewalk cracks: or that I would be ponying up insane amounts of money for IVF- I would have laughed. Merrily. And probably said you were insane. Yet, here we are!
The fortune cookie in the photo is a replica of the fortune I got a few months ago: the day after we decided to do this again. As The Man says, "Crappy fortunes are a sure way to put a cookie company out of business"- yes, yes, I know. It's not like you're going to get one saying, "You are mentally unhinged, have dubious fashion sense, and this will all end in tears." (Hopefully.) But I am holding onto this anyway. Because I am CRAZY, and willing to cling to any tiny shred of hope that comes my way. Or you know: because I am optimistic. I am fighting the urge to put a question mark at the end of that last sentence.
I have been floundering a little this week: dutifully applying my gel to my shoulders, filling out paperwork, and trying not to get overwhelmed. I bought a meditation game for the Wii, which sounds ridiculous, yet it seems to be helping me to feel calm and centered, so why knock it? I have definitely done crazier things. I took a closer look at my meds, and realized that I am not going to be put on hormonal birth control for my IVF cycle- something I am thrilled about. I am trying to focus on the positives.
The weird thing is this: after a lot of soul searching, one of the things I am afraid of, is that this is it. This is something that I have been working my way up to, and focusing on, for so long. It's a big part of my psyche_ IF is the big Chimera I have to slay: or nurse my wounds and walk away from.
Whether it works, or it doesn't, I will have to change. It will be easier to change if I have a consolation prize (read: baby), but if it doesn't work: well, that's it. it's the end of a dream and a long journey, and the beginning of something else, whatever that might be.
I can't regret going through this. It's been awful. I would never wish this on anyone else. But it made me a better, stronger, healthier, more resilient person. It's definitely taught me who my friends were. I have learned more about my body and how it works than I ever dreamed was possible.
I can't regret that I have had ten years with The Man: taking some amazing vacations, and having each other pretty much all to ourselves.
Also, I don't know if it's the testosterone, the meditation, or I got a really good batch of organic herbal tea, but I dreamed about Matthew McConaughey last night. I can't really regret that, either!
Tuesday, August 7, 2012
The Gambler
Freedom Fertility Pharmacy called me today.
Actually, a robot called me, technically.
"Hello, this is FFP, we got a call from your doctor ordering your medication! Please hold for a specialist!"
Then some helpful tips, then ringing. And then the robot again.
"We're sorry, all of our specialists are busy right now. Please call us at (number) at a later time of your convenience. Thank you!" *click*
WTF?!!!!
So I called back, and talked (as I always do when dealing with Freedom) to a very nice woman, who read a bewildering list of medications off to me. Some of these I have dealt with before, but most of them, I haven't. Cetritide! Doxycycline! Gonal-F! MenoPur! Novarel! Endometrin!!!! (Please don't make me go crazy, hormones, PLEASE.)
My mother, bless her, had told me to put the meds on her credit card. I have done this before, so I was expecting a big number. I think my last round (an IUI) it was close to $2000.
"OK- let me add this all up!" said the nice woman on the phone with the MA accent (an accent that I, strangely, love).
"That will be $4372.30."
That sound you just heard was my brain exploding. She helpfully told me I could go onto their website and get a web quote, which would save us $100. I asked her to freeze the order. I had to call Mom and let her know what was coming- and also call The Man, to see if we could subsidize some of this.
While saving $100 is better than a sharp stick in the eye, it seemed almost ridiculously meager, in the grand scheme of things. I called my mom, and explained, I called The Man and explained. Mom still wants me to use her card. What she said is: "Well, people take money like that to Vegas, and they gamble, and lose it all- for nothing That's not what you're doing here. You have a goal. I want you to be able to achieve your goal." I still feel amazingly guilty.
I forgot what this was like. Costs add up in excruciating fashion, and our insurance covers none of it. So far, we are out doctor and exam fees at two clinics, the cost of my testing, the cost of The Man's testing, and we haven't even gotten to the stuff covered in the outline that the R.E.'s office gives you, which explains what you will be billed for. That's another hefty chunk, but at least is something we budgeted for. Of course, medication is not included.
Getting stressed out is supposed to be counter-productive to this process working. So I got off the phone, clicked around on the website, got my $100 off, and called back.
As fate would have it, I got Sandy, who was super-talkative. She heard my parrot in the background, and started asking all kinds of questions. She applied my credit, postponed my shipment (we still have a slim chance this month- if I do manage to do this on my own, being stuck with $4372.30 worth of unnecessary meds would not be fun), made sure I was getting a rebate on my Gonal-F, and closed with, "Well, what's your birdie's name?"
"Vegas," I said.
"Well, you enjoy your day hon- good luck to you, and have fun gambling with Vegas!" she teased.
I guess you can look at it that way- I am gambling. As someone who is not a gambler by nature, this is terrifying. I really hope I don't lose it all.
Actually, a robot called me, technically.
"Hello, this is FFP, we got a call from your doctor ordering your medication! Please hold for a specialist!"
Then some helpful tips, then ringing. And then the robot again.
"We're sorry, all of our specialists are busy right now. Please call us at (number) at a later time of your convenience. Thank you!" *click*
WTF?!!!!
So I called back, and talked (as I always do when dealing with Freedom) to a very nice woman, who read a bewildering list of medications off to me. Some of these I have dealt with before, but most of them, I haven't. Cetritide! Doxycycline! Gonal-F! MenoPur! Novarel! Endometrin!!!! (Please don't make me go crazy, hormones, PLEASE.)
My mother, bless her, had told me to put the meds on her credit card. I have done this before, so I was expecting a big number. I think my last round (an IUI) it was close to $2000.
"OK- let me add this all up!" said the nice woman on the phone with the MA accent (an accent that I, strangely, love).
"That will be $4372.30."
That sound you just heard was my brain exploding. She helpfully told me I could go onto their website and get a web quote, which would save us $100. I asked her to freeze the order. I had to call Mom and let her know what was coming- and also call The Man, to see if we could subsidize some of this.
While saving $100 is better than a sharp stick in the eye, it seemed almost ridiculously meager, in the grand scheme of things. I called my mom, and explained, I called The Man and explained. Mom still wants me to use her card. What she said is: "Well, people take money like that to Vegas, and they gamble, and lose it all- for nothing That's not what you're doing here. You have a goal. I want you to be able to achieve your goal." I still feel amazingly guilty.
I forgot what this was like. Costs add up in excruciating fashion, and our insurance covers none of it. So far, we are out doctor and exam fees at two clinics, the cost of my testing, the cost of The Man's testing, and we haven't even gotten to the stuff covered in the outline that the R.E.'s office gives you, which explains what you will be billed for. That's another hefty chunk, but at least is something we budgeted for. Of course, medication is not included.
Getting stressed out is supposed to be counter-productive to this process working. So I got off the phone, clicked around on the website, got my $100 off, and called back.
As fate would have it, I got Sandy, who was super-talkative. She heard my parrot in the background, and started asking all kinds of questions. She applied my credit, postponed my shipment (we still have a slim chance this month- if I do manage to do this on my own, being stuck with $4372.30 worth of unnecessary meds would not be fun), made sure I was getting a rebate on my Gonal-F, and closed with, "Well, what's your birdie's name?"
"Vegas," I said.
"Well, you enjoy your day hon- good luck to you, and have fun gambling with Vegas!" she teased.
I guess you can look at it that way- I am gambling. As someone who is not a gambler by nature, this is terrifying. I really hope I don't lose it all.
Wednesday, August 1, 2012
Let's do this thing! (playing catch-up)
So! I do have another blog- where I seem to be talking about everything EXCEPT infertility. If you're interested in that, it's over here.
General update: The Man and I just celebrated our 10th anniversary. Which means, 9 years of infertility. NINE years!!!! Ugh.
But- I am jumping back into the seemingly bottomless lake of infertility treatments, and frankly: this is the only place I can talk about that. People who deal with me day-to-day probably don't want to know about crazy shizz like "assisted hatching." Hell, _I_ don't even know what that is. Yet. But I probably will soon.
Because if infertility is a bottomless lake, I am finally going to do more than just stick the occasional toe in the water. As of a couple of weeks ago, I started paddling around in the shallow end, and am girding my loins (somewhat literally) to jump off the high dive in a few weeks. IVF, baby.
So we got started with one clinic, only to decide in the early stages that they were too far away- an hour and a half isn't a great drive to have to make. They also were really lackadaisical about doing things like answering my questions, leading to situations where I got test results back and FREAKED- and continued to freak over the 4th of July weekend, with no call back. It took six days to get my question answered, and of course, by then, I had whipped myself into a frenzy. No bueno.
So the question I needed answered was-My FSH is now around 12.1: not too terribly bad, as I am now an old-ish lady of 38. It's actually improved from 2009, when it was 14.9. The AMH however, is pretty dismal: 0.16. The frantic calls about that were the ones that caused the meltdown. I was concerned that they would flat-out refuse to treat me. So after all the googling of "low AMH" that I did- hopefully some other woman who is desperately googling at 2AM might run across this. Neither of the two clinics I was looking at said that my low AMH was a deal breaker. In fact, they seemed intrigued. And also flat out stated: "You need to hurry."
So, that's what we are doing. All the preliminary tests have been done. The Man still has his stellar numbers. I keep calling him "The Sperminator", which he seems alternately delighted and humiliated by. In all seriousness, I think the most awkward conversations I have had have been IF related, and having a lab tech wax rhapsodic about how great your husband's numbers are over the phone has to be experienced to be believed. Luckily, after a saline sonogram and a pelvic exam, my uterus has been pronounced "beautiful." So per medical science, I am actually beautiful inside and out. ;) And we are still "unexplained".
I didn't want to do this. I have done my utmost to get as healthy as I can, but obviously, we still have some deeper issue which is not being addressed, because we don't know what it is. the thought of subjecting my body to this roller coaster again is not one I make lightly.Unfortunately, we are to the point where we simply can't afford to sit around and wait.
I really like my new R.E.. He is young (by which I mean close to my age- LOL), earnest, and has disconcertingly beautiful eyes. He's also roughly 1000% nicer and more charismatic than Dr. Combover was- not being difficult to accomplish, as Dr. Combover had roughly the same bedside manner as a necrotic whelk.
I automatically checked to see if he was married, as I have many awesome single lady friends, and I am always acting in their best interests-although I may have earmarked him for my sister as a matter of course- but alas, he was wearing a wedding ring.
Also, he has a great sense of humor. By which I mean, he laughs at my jokes. How to make your RE laugh: when he points out your right ovary on the monitor during a procedure, tell him it looks like "a high pressure system coming in from the north." Evidently, not many ladies tell jokes while they are in the stirrups. And when the R.E. tells them he'll see them in his office in a minute, they probably don't cheerfully say, "Sure, I'll be right there- just let me put on some pants."
Oh man, I am so jaded. This doesn't even seem weird anymore. Hopefully I can continue along this trajectory, and not the sad, cookie-eating, hormonally incapacitated and psychotic iteration of the past.
Speaking of ovaries, Lazy Righty is evidently cooking up a follicle this month. I am going to send it some flowers.
In other news, my temps are great. I am still seeing an acupuncturist, and my temps have slowly crept up from being in the 95's and 96's to the 97's and 98's- AKA, normal human temperature ranges. Acupuncture is once a week, and I take about a bajillion herbal supplements twice a day.
My acupuncturist and I do argue occasionally- he says I am healthy enough to conceive on my own, but after 9 years of this, and two years with him, I am more than a little dubious. I am doing my best to make it clear that I can't afford to wait anymore. We were given "permission to try" this month and last month as well, so it is go time this week. He keeps insisting that IVF is not necessary, and I told him that I would be ecstatic if we managed to do it on our own, as we would use the money earmarked for the procedure to go on a fantastic European vacation instead, and I would send him a postcard from every country we visited lauding his acupuncturey prowess. I still don't think he agrees, but at least he shut up about it.
SO! Due to my super-low AMH, my RE told me that we were going to do something "A little unorthodox", and wrote me a prescription for testosterone gel. He also warned me that the pharmacy wasn't going to handle it well, as it is typically a male-only prescription, and just to brazen it out. Having done all my research during the Low-AMH meltdown of early July, I determined that he was trying to take a little bit of a shortcut- low AMH is typically addressed with DHEA supplementation- which bumps up your testosterone levels.
All I can say is, if there is any other way to get testosterone gel than walking into Rite Aid, I am all for it. Black market? Internet pharmacy? Muscular man in sunglasses lurking in the alley? Go for it (OK, maybe not the last one.)
The Pharmacist and the tech seriously freaked out. It doesn't help that the Pharmacist has a loud, booming Russian accent, and immediately blustered, "But- this is for men only!" in a voice that carried clear over into the cosmetics area. I quietly explained the issue, and he admitted that it was not that unheard of as he had "given it to one other lady in the past." I would like to thank you, other lady. If it was this much of a shell-shocker for me, I can only imagine how it was for you!
I now have two giant tubes of really expensive testosterone gel. The pharmacist helpfully said that I would have a lot left over, and told The Man that he should try it "If he ever wanted to take up the weightlifting."
He gave me a 20% discount, but even with that- since it is out-of-pocket, it was $360. #$%^!
So now, The Man is under orders to tell me if I start developing facial hair or my voice starts cracking. I have to rub this stuff into my shoulders every night, and am paranoid that I am going to grow some furry epaulettes. I was cautioned to avoid contact with anyone until the stuff dries, and am wearing a special t-shirt to bed. Like a chump. So it begins.
So the next Day One, my schedule and meds are set. I just need to call, and I will get my baseline ultrasound. It looks like Gonal-F, Menopur, Possibly an ovulation suppressant of some kind, and then the trigger shot, and then progesterone- seemingly forever.
Oh God. I am really doing this. Sometime this month!
General update: The Man and I just celebrated our 10th anniversary. Which means, 9 years of infertility. NINE years!!!! Ugh.
But- I am jumping back into the seemingly bottomless lake of infertility treatments, and frankly: this is the only place I can talk about that. People who deal with me day-to-day probably don't want to know about crazy shizz like "assisted hatching." Hell, _I_ don't even know what that is. Yet. But I probably will soon.
Because if infertility is a bottomless lake, I am finally going to do more than just stick the occasional toe in the water. As of a couple of weeks ago, I started paddling around in the shallow end, and am girding my loins (somewhat literally) to jump off the high dive in a few weeks. IVF, baby.
So we got started with one clinic, only to decide in the early stages that they were too far away- an hour and a half isn't a great drive to have to make. They also were really lackadaisical about doing things like answering my questions, leading to situations where I got test results back and FREAKED- and continued to freak over the 4th of July weekend, with no call back. It took six days to get my question answered, and of course, by then, I had whipped myself into a frenzy. No bueno.
So the question I needed answered was-My FSH is now around 12.1: not too terribly bad, as I am now an old-ish lady of 38. It's actually improved from 2009, when it was 14.9. The AMH however, is pretty dismal: 0.16. The frantic calls about that were the ones that caused the meltdown. I was concerned that they would flat-out refuse to treat me. So after all the googling of "low AMH" that I did- hopefully some other woman who is desperately googling at 2AM might run across this. Neither of the two clinics I was looking at said that my low AMH was a deal breaker. In fact, they seemed intrigued. And also flat out stated: "You need to hurry."
So, that's what we are doing. All the preliminary tests have been done. The Man still has his stellar numbers. I keep calling him "The Sperminator", which he seems alternately delighted and humiliated by. In all seriousness, I think the most awkward conversations I have had have been IF related, and having a lab tech wax rhapsodic about how great your husband's numbers are over the phone has to be experienced to be believed. Luckily, after a saline sonogram and a pelvic exam, my uterus has been pronounced "beautiful." So per medical science, I am actually beautiful inside and out. ;) And we are still "unexplained".
I didn't want to do this. I have done my utmost to get as healthy as I can, but obviously, we still have some deeper issue which is not being addressed, because we don't know what it is. the thought of subjecting my body to this roller coaster again is not one I make lightly.Unfortunately, we are to the point where we simply can't afford to sit around and wait.
I really like my new R.E.. He is young (by which I mean close to my age- LOL), earnest, and has disconcertingly beautiful eyes. He's also roughly 1000% nicer and more charismatic than Dr. Combover was- not being difficult to accomplish, as Dr. Combover had roughly the same bedside manner as a necrotic whelk.
I automatically checked to see if he was married, as I have many awesome single lady friends, and I am always acting in their best interests-although I may have earmarked him for my sister as a matter of course- but alas, he was wearing a wedding ring.
Also, he has a great sense of humor. By which I mean, he laughs at my jokes. How to make your RE laugh: when he points out your right ovary on the monitor during a procedure, tell him it looks like "a high pressure system coming in from the north." Evidently, not many ladies tell jokes while they are in the stirrups. And when the R.E. tells them he'll see them in his office in a minute, they probably don't cheerfully say, "Sure, I'll be right there- just let me put on some pants."
Oh man, I am so jaded. This doesn't even seem weird anymore. Hopefully I can continue along this trajectory, and not the sad, cookie-eating, hormonally incapacitated and psychotic iteration of the past.
Speaking of ovaries, Lazy Righty is evidently cooking up a follicle this month. I am going to send it some flowers.
In other news, my temps are great. I am still seeing an acupuncturist, and my temps have slowly crept up from being in the 95's and 96's to the 97's and 98's- AKA, normal human temperature ranges. Acupuncture is once a week, and I take about a bajillion herbal supplements twice a day.
My acupuncturist and I do argue occasionally- he says I am healthy enough to conceive on my own, but after 9 years of this, and two years with him, I am more than a little dubious. I am doing my best to make it clear that I can't afford to wait anymore. We were given "permission to try" this month and last month as well, so it is go time this week. He keeps insisting that IVF is not necessary, and I told him that I would be ecstatic if we managed to do it on our own, as we would use the money earmarked for the procedure to go on a fantastic European vacation instead, and I would send him a postcard from every country we visited lauding his acupuncturey prowess. I still don't think he agrees, but at least he shut up about it.
SO! Due to my super-low AMH, my RE told me that we were going to do something "A little unorthodox", and wrote me a prescription for testosterone gel. He also warned me that the pharmacy wasn't going to handle it well, as it is typically a male-only prescription, and just to brazen it out. Having done all my research during the Low-AMH meltdown of early July, I determined that he was trying to take a little bit of a shortcut- low AMH is typically addressed with DHEA supplementation- which bumps up your testosterone levels.
All I can say is, if there is any other way to get testosterone gel than walking into Rite Aid, I am all for it. Black market? Internet pharmacy? Muscular man in sunglasses lurking in the alley? Go for it (OK, maybe not the last one.)
The Pharmacist and the tech seriously freaked out. It doesn't help that the Pharmacist has a loud, booming Russian accent, and immediately blustered, "But- this is for men only!" in a voice that carried clear over into the cosmetics area. I quietly explained the issue, and he admitted that it was not that unheard of as he had "given it to one other lady in the past." I would like to thank you, other lady. If it was this much of a shell-shocker for me, I can only imagine how it was for you!
I now have two giant tubes of really expensive testosterone gel. The pharmacist helpfully said that I would have a lot left over, and told The Man that he should try it "If he ever wanted to take up the weightlifting."
He gave me a 20% discount, but even with that- since it is out-of-pocket, it was $360. #$%^!
So now, The Man is under orders to tell me if I start developing facial hair or my voice starts cracking. I have to rub this stuff into my shoulders every night, and am paranoid that I am going to grow some furry epaulettes. I was cautioned to avoid contact with anyone until the stuff dries, and am wearing a special t-shirt to bed. Like a chump. So it begins.
So the next Day One, my schedule and meds are set. I just need to call, and I will get my baseline ultrasound. It looks like Gonal-F, Menopur, Possibly an ovulation suppressant of some kind, and then the trigger shot, and then progesterone- seemingly forever.
Oh God. I am really doing this. Sometime this month!
Sunday, December 9, 2007
Call screening
Hooray for tree decorating! I am slowly filling in the bare spots on our blue spruce.
These guys didn't make the cut for the top of the tree- they'll go down firther, where kitties have a habit of playing pinata with them.
______________
"Jen! Grab your phone!"
I was scrambling to get ready, because we wanted to catch the matinee for The Golden Compass. I heard the ringer getting louder, which means that The Man has nabbed my phone.
"It says private caller."
I grabbed my keys and sunglasses, and started struggling with my jacket while the ringing stops.
"It's gotta be your parents, do you want to call them back?"
"Sweetie, I just want to have a good day. I can't see them saying anything that I want to hear. Besides, we're running late."
We headed out to the car, and I hopped in, managing to balance all the crap tht I take with me.
He gave me a narrow look, because we both know that ignoring things isn't really the way to go.
I sighed, and picked up the phone and dialed.
"Hi Mom."
"Hey Jen! That was fast."
After a few seconds of inconsequential chitchat, she brought it up, again. She and Dad must have had another talk. The gist of what she said was that they were in a position to help us, and the 50% idea was in case they needed to help on more than one cycle. I explained that we only wanted to do one cycle. If that didn't work, we would need to either explore other avenues to becoming parents, or we would hopefully be in a position to take care of costs ourselves.
There was a pause. "I don't want you guys to limit yourselves because of money. I feel like we got our wires crossed. I thought I told you that Dad and I wanted a little more info before we could give you a definite answer."
I did the verbal equivalent of shrugging, and politely changed the subject.
Maybe at some point, we will get desperate enough to take them up on it. For now, however, it's just not worth it to me. I am glad she called and clarified matters, but I am going to acknowledge that this road is just not going to be easy, and I think I would rather be in debt to a bank than to my parents when I am thinking reasonably about it.
Anyway. The Golden Compass fell a little flat, after that. I had a hard time watching some of the scene, since a lot of them involved children being kidnapped. But the special effects were great. I added the series of books to my endless wishlist on Amazon.
Sunday, October 21, 2007
If it happens, it happens.
The Man and I bought groceries and went out to dinner tonight.
On our way home, I asked him, "So, now what?"
We are still waiting on an answer re: IVF. And for some reason, waiting around has given me some time to become- well, if not ambivalent, rather detached from the subject.
I still occasionally well up with tears when I see parents and children together. The thought that I may never have children of my own is still raw, and it just seems...well, wrong somehow. We are meant to have kids somehow, some way, I know that. Maybe now is just not the right time. Maybe our kids will be born to someone else, and find their way to us eventually.
It's hard to be philosophical about it, but there it is. It's hard to wrap my head around paying $15,000 for something that only has a 38.2% chance of working (at least, at our clinic). Especially when it's not our money.
Is it worth that? To see my big blue eyes and widow's peak and his wavy hair and generous mouth on someone new that my husband and I have created together? To be able to use the names we chose together? To be able to ooh and ahh over silly hand-knit hats and baby blankets and decorate the room in the rainforest theme that I decided I wanted- oh, back in 2001?
We planned to buy a camcorder and record for posterity the first wobbling steps, the first giggles and words, learning the alphabet, reading bedtime stories, the pictures with Santa and on the pony. The Christmas pageant, the Halloween costumes, the soccer team, the graduations. The big wedding, and the grandchildren.
Now that I have it down in print, it seems silly to wonder if it's worth it. All those things, are, like the Mastercard commercials like to point out, priceless.
But I am still left wondering, am I being selfish, to feel that I am being denied so much? If we decide not to go through with it, or are forced by circumstance to abandon it...when will the diaper bags and the baby slings stop tormenting me? How long will it take before I can see a little girl in the checkout line, happily eating an ice cream with her mom, and recognize those long lashes and dark ringlets and pink Converse sneakers as anything other than a personal failure on my part?
Tonight, my sister-in-law called me. Her marriage is falling apart. We had a long discussion about how she has done everything she can, that her husband (my husband's brother) has evidently turned into a vampire- happily sucking up all of the love, effort, and money, and giving nothing back in return. We talked a lot about what she should do.
In trying to describe my SIL to friends, I have said that she's kind of like Luna Lovegood. She doesn't look like her, and her mannerisms are totally different, she's got this absolute honesty that's airy-fairy and blunt at the same time. Uncomfortable truths come bubbling from her lips at inopportune moments, all the time, but it's not mean-spirited, just stream of consciousness. It just skewers you because you are totally not expecting it.
She basically told me how lucky I was, vis-a-vis The Man, and said, "You and The Man are going to be parents. You were meant to be a mom. A cool, San Francisco Mom. And I know it is going to happen for you." She paused, and then said, "I saw it. I saw you walking down the street."
I didn't realize what she had said until I had gotten off the phone. (I was trying to keep it together after the whole, "cool SF mom" thing. ) Is it me, or is the phrasing really kind of eerie and weird?
Maybe I am going crazy.
On our way home, I asked him, "So, now what?"
We are still waiting on an answer re: IVF. And for some reason, waiting around has given me some time to become- well, if not ambivalent, rather detached from the subject.
I still occasionally well up with tears when I see parents and children together. The thought that I may never have children of my own is still raw, and it just seems...well, wrong somehow. We are meant to have kids somehow, some way, I know that. Maybe now is just not the right time. Maybe our kids will be born to someone else, and find their way to us eventually.
It's hard to be philosophical about it, but there it is. It's hard to wrap my head around paying $15,000 for something that only has a 38.2% chance of working (at least, at our clinic). Especially when it's not our money.
Is it worth that? To see my big blue eyes and widow's peak and his wavy hair and generous mouth on someone new that my husband and I have created together? To be able to use the names we chose together? To be able to ooh and ahh over silly hand-knit hats and baby blankets and decorate the room in the rainforest theme that I decided I wanted- oh, back in 2001?
We planned to buy a camcorder and record for posterity the first wobbling steps, the first giggles and words, learning the alphabet, reading bedtime stories, the pictures with Santa and on the pony. The Christmas pageant, the Halloween costumes, the soccer team, the graduations. The big wedding, and the grandchildren.
Now that I have it down in print, it seems silly to wonder if it's worth it. All those things, are, like the Mastercard commercials like to point out, priceless.
But I am still left wondering, am I being selfish, to feel that I am being denied so much? If we decide not to go through with it, or are forced by circumstance to abandon it...when will the diaper bags and the baby slings stop tormenting me? How long will it take before I can see a little girl in the checkout line, happily eating an ice cream with her mom, and recognize those long lashes and dark ringlets and pink Converse sneakers as anything other than a personal failure on my part?
Tonight, my sister-in-law called me. Her marriage is falling apart. We had a long discussion about how she has done everything she can, that her husband (my husband's brother) has evidently turned into a vampire- happily sucking up all of the love, effort, and money, and giving nothing back in return. We talked a lot about what she should do.
In trying to describe my SIL to friends, I have said that she's kind of like Luna Lovegood. She doesn't look like her, and her mannerisms are totally different, she's got this absolute honesty that's airy-fairy and blunt at the same time. Uncomfortable truths come bubbling from her lips at inopportune moments, all the time, but it's not mean-spirited, just stream of consciousness. It just skewers you because you are totally not expecting it.
She basically told me how lucky I was, vis-a-vis The Man, and said, "You and The Man are going to be parents. You were meant to be a mom. A cool, San Francisco Mom. And I know it is going to happen for you." She paused, and then said, "I saw it. I saw you walking down the street."
I didn't realize what she had said until I had gotten off the phone. (I was trying to keep it together after the whole, "cool SF mom" thing. ) Is it me, or is the phrasing really kind of eerie and weird?
Maybe I am going crazy.
Friday, October 5, 2007
Hanging
Today has been a seriously awful day.
I am fighting a wretched cold, and I am losing. BOTH my best friends have called in tears because their relationships both ended this week. Also general cramping and nastiness. Thank God for the weekend away next week!!!!
I had work scheduled from 9AM to 10 PM tonight, with a few hours in between to make furtive grabs for meals and my sanity and some fresh lipstick. And as mentioned in the post before this, to make some phone calls. I had a narrow margin between when my RE's office re-opens for lunch (2PM) and the start of my next class (2:30).
In my experience, they always come back late from lunch anyway, and today was no exception. I didn't get through until 2:16.
The good news: I can use the free meds towards an IVF cycle. They agree that it's time to stop with the IUI's, because we are getting nowhere.
So I put myself on the list for January. In order to have caught the IVF boat that leaves in November, I would need to complete my protocols by...well, by today. And start BCP tomorrow. Not happening, because as I have mentioned before, my parents are helping us with this, and I really don't want to make the commitment until I have let them know what's going on.
I have never discussed IVF with my father- it has always been mom. She knows the costs, the odds, everything, and has always said that if push came to shove, they would help us out. But she wasn't home when I called the house, so I talked to Dad, and found out (to my serious dismay) that she hasn't discussed any of this with him.
He freaked out. In his defense. The talk of test tubes and petri dishes and injections is something that he has studiously avoided, and he has referred to IUI as "The turkey baster option" consistently throughout. There was a lot of, "WHAT percentage? HOW much?!!!!!"
I was shocked that mom hadn't discussed this with him, and on top of everything else, it was just too much. I managed to get home and basically had a teary breakdown of epic proportions. The Man petted me and cuddled me, told me not to be an idiot when I wailed that I was "a millstone around his neck", and tried to get me to call in sick for my evening shift at work. When that failed, he made me mac and cheese while I iced my puffy face.
I made it through work. Mom called and I called back and we had a rational chat during my drive home. I feel a lot more hopeful about things.
Then I got home and The Man played me this.
And then THIS:
"It made me think of you," he said. "I know you probably think it's cheesy." (I am more of a rock and roll kind of girl.) It didn't matter to me though. I was still crying, but happy tears.
I may be sad, but boy am I lucky.
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