Monday, April 21, 2008

Just What Do You Think You're Doing With That?

I did it to myself.

If I hadn't crawled back into bed this morning after pilates class, I never would have fallen into a deep sleep that produced this hum dinger of a dream....

Hanging out with hubby in an examination room at the RE. Doc comes in and I suddenly realize that instead of a fully anesthetized semi-surgical procedure that I was expecting, there was a last minute change and the doc's gonna go up in there with no sedation, no numbing, not even a local.

"It'll only take a minute or two."

"Yeah, no it won't because it's not happening."

I take this moment as the moment to freak the F out about everything and anything that's been happening and not happening on this journey.

Nurse hugs me, hands me 2 aspirin and then starts giving me instructions on how to examine my stool in the mornings.

Huh?

"Well, yes. This is the new method we've been using to determine depression. You see, we've found that sometimes this process makes people a little sad."

You don't say.

Meanwhile, I notice that doc is still here, preparing what looks like yards and yards of tubing and other apparatus that it seems will be getting up close and personal with me sooner than later.

Oh hell no.

This is where I call to mind every expletive I own (and believe me, my repetoire is vast, spanning several languages) and end it with a resounding, "F*CK THIS BABY SHIT! JUST F*CK IT!!!"

and I wake myself up with a sob/gasp/shout.

D*mn. That was rough. In real life, the plan for a hysteroscopy actually has changed to a less intrusive (they say) and much less costly (they say) procedure. This happened last week when my doctor realized I was private pay. Ok. Thanks, I appreciate that. But frankly, I was looking forward to sedation. I am guessing that is not part of the plan for this new direction, hence the apprehension so apparent in my early morning dream.

Since their decision, I've been going on a week's worth of phone tag with my Nurse and financial advisor, so, no meds yet, no projected date for anything.

And I turn 34 on Friday.

F*ck.

Unlike last year
, this one snuck up on me. No big plans, no band to usher in a new year. I think I could probably rally the troops and pull together a decent bash. I'm just wondering if I want to.

34.

How does that happen?


Friday, April 11, 2008

An Apology

Since the inception of this blog over a year ago, every time I post, I ask myself, "Now, if maybe baby stumbled across this dozens of years from now, would he/she be cool with it?" The answer to this question shapes my posts, edits my words and generally keeps me in check.

So why oh why didn't I apply that same question to members of my own family? If (insert the name of any friend or family member here) ever stumbled across this page, would he/she be cool with it?

I think the answer 99% of the time would be yes. Some may disagree with how a situation was portrayed or tsk tsk at my melodrama but I think, for the most part, they would be cool. Yes, this is an anonymous blog and yes, few folks know it's here and yes, it is a space for me to work out sh*t that affects me and sometimes that involves other people, but still. 1% of uncool is too much.

Especially if that 1% draws tears, causes doubts or just plain isn't nice.

And for that, I am sorry. I am so sorry. I am hoping that relationships open and grow because of it, but I am regretful that I couldn't have figured out a better catalyst for that.

D*mn.

Monday, April 7, 2008

TMI

What I love most about our home are the nooks and crannies that exist where you least expect them. When I saw this one - tucked back in a spare bathroom - I knew I had to live here.

The other day Lori at Weebles Wobblog extended an open invite to share your book collections with the world. Like Lori, most of my titles are merged in and intertwined with hubby's. But this little spot, this one right here, these are all mine.

My mom used to tease me that the bathroom of our house should have been named, "The Library." Yes, my penchant for reading while, well, you know, is legendary. Ask my family. Ask my college roommates. Ask anybody. I think this apartment was made for me.

What? You say that those shelves most likely were not made to hold literary works and paperbacks? Pshaw. You can stick your toiletries anywhere.

I took more photos, but they don't define me like this one does. So there you have it - more information than you ever asked for. Blame Lori.

And then share some photos of your own. I hereby tag all y'all.
Posted by Picasa

Wednesday, April 2, 2008

A Plan

I am hesitant to post because I don't want the jokes to stop!

Ladies, thank you. Thank you so much for sharing your worst. Wow. You didn't hold back did you? I think I need to print these all out right now and just have them. In my pocket. For when I need them. Like a talis(wo)man.

So what's next? Well, I let my body purge itself of these ungrateful b*stards (that's our pet name for them, you see), I walk around in my undies admiring my new lunapads, and get ready to start my next cycle. I should say mock cycle. One ending in a endometrial biopsy and a hysteroscopy to boot.

Yes, yes, I said it. I gave in. Because frankly, it does make sense now, doesn't it? Eggs were great (I can say that; They weren't mine). Fertilized great. Lining beefed up. Transfer was flawless. We didn't even need to tug on the stitch. So what's left but to "evaluate the uterine cavity"? That's how Nurse phrased it.

So what does one learn from an endometrial biopsy? It seems that we learn whether or not my uterus is to blame for all of this and whether or not she is just a little naughty and will be forced into compliance with a little more progesterone, or progesterone given a little differently, or if "childfree" will be one of the words that defines us. Adoption is not an option that we will explore and my ears practically shut themselves off when Nurse mentions the idea of a "carrier" for our remaining embryos should my uterus decide she'd rather act like Carrie with a capital C and keep on bleeding all over the place. I am just not there yet.

But I do appreciate the idea of hearing 1.) yes, you have a fair shot. Let's give this another go, or 2.) lady, we could pump you with more drugs than Jimi Hendrix and you are still not gonna flower into a pregnant goddess. I think I would appreciate knowing.

So, birth control pills begin soon, then lupron, then estrace....you all know the routine. And then I get scopes and swabs. I asked Nurse to tell me more about the hysteroscopy and she said that most women do fine with just a numbing shot in the cervix (uncontrollable twinge). I reminded her that most women didn't pass the F out during their HSG.

Pause.

"Oh yeah. That's right. Hmmm....I think I'll remind the docs of that and see what they want to do."

Oh hell yes. To be sedated for all of that scraping and scoping would be grand. Thanks, yes, please. See what you can do.
Google