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Places to Go:
Dance Dance Revolution
So I have my post lap appointment with the RE tomorrow morning.
I am already practicing my cheerleader presentation for him:
‘Be Aggressive! Be Be Aggressive!”
I want it all: the pills, the ultrasound, the trigger shot. Gimme Gimme.
I am wildly, out of control drunk with optimism and certainty.
Yes I am aware that if this cycle doesn’t work I will crash a bit at the peak of the holiday season.
But I am not going to think about that.
I want to purge my mind of any doubts or fears.
This is it, I tell myself every moment I get. T
his will be MY month.
I invite you to join with me in my dance party of excitement. Dosey Do with some Hope. Do the cabbage patch with Glee. Get your groove on with Positivity. Do the Lambada with my friend Optimism. Slow dance with Certainty. & save the last dance for me.
We will slow dance, cheek to cheek & whisper in each other’s ear how we knew it would happen.
Protected: Go ahead. Play the effing Muzak
Ok. Now that Halloween is long past & Thanksgiving is officially over you can play some Holiday music. But not too much. & not all at once. You know, maybe ONE holiday song every other hour. Depending on the song. But if you must know I will think you crass for doing so. In my book it is WAY too early. It isn’t even December, people! Be in the now. The end of November is a fabulous time of year. The pause before the shopping, the wrapping, the hustling & bustling.
It’s the time of year where you can play outside & crunch in the leaves. (as my cousin is demonstrating) You can eat 7 reheated starchy things & nobody will scoff at you for doing so. You start a little bit of day dreaming about what Santa might bring you…
This Christmas is either going to be the best one EVER or it will be the one where I get really shit faced & cry a lot.
You see I’m just about to be at the cycle. You know, THE cycle. (um, the one post lap. They say it is a magical cycle.) If I have done the math correctly (carry the one) I will find out if this soon to happen cycle worked on Christmas Eve. & if that isn’t the kicker I should also remind you that it will be my 30th birthday. Cute, right?
Seriously, can you imagine that morning? Me waking up to sneak some extra gifts under the tree, warming up some breakfast rolls in the oven & then rushing to the potty to pee on a stick. The three to five minutes that follow aforementioned peeing will set the tone for my entire Holiday season. If there is no + then goodbye Happy Birthday, whatever to your fucking Merry Christmas, New Year can kiss my ass.
I know it is early to be harnessing the energy of the Universe, but I don’t think simply writing Santa “bring me a positive HPT!” will work. So here I go:
Oh Magical, Beautiful & Benevolent Universe. I am in awe of all that you have created. I bask in the heat of your sun & I shine in the beams of your moon. I have planted trees, roses, and eucalyptus in my garden. I have felt your energy as my hands worked the earth. Please allow me to grow a child. Please allow this to happen this cycle. & if it doesn’t please protect me when I drink too much.
Back with the people
Good Morning. This is the first day since THE day that I have felt normal. It will be the day that I wean myself off of groovy pain medication. It will be the day that I eat something more substantial than yogurt or broth. It will be the day that I catch up on all of you.
I considered writing up a sort of play by play of my lap experience. (& I may still keep considering it) But at this point I don’t honestly remember much. I remember being so terrified that I would say something idiotic while going under that I forced myself to be mute. I remember being in pain when I first woke up and then suddenly not feeling anything. I remember trying to get dressed and being pissed off that it wasn’t happening very well.
& the next thing that I remember is wednesday. I woke up around 10am and my Grandmother was napping on the bed next to me. My kitty, Talula, was resting on a pillow behind my head and Admiral, the dog, was curled up between GM & my legs. I remember feeling very loved at that moment. & Then the pain smacked me upside the head.
As far as pain goes, this was a new type. I have had period pain, broken bone pain, hangover pain, just been fired pain, he doesn’t like you that way pain, and tattoo pain (to name a few). But surgery pain was something altogether different. It was a combination pain. Moshu WITH kungpao. Peanut butter & jelly.
Incision & organ settling.
It is very odd to be so aware of one’s internal organs. To feel your female bits settling down after being pumped with gas & shifted about.
At the end of the month (November 30th to be exact) I will go in for my post-op check & if all is good then I will be given a prescription for the newish fertility drug, Femura. I am still at the early google stage on Femura. So if any of you guys have some stats to share let me know. What I find now mostly has to do with its use in the breast cancer world.
Oh - & some good news. It the midst of all this body chaos my gang remembered to ovulate on time. I was worried that the lap would fuck things up in there, but my innards bounce back. Woo hoo!
I smell burnt toast so I guess Mom is up & trying to make me some breakfast. (awww) Mom in the kitchen still makes me giggle.
I survived!
I am all medicated & feeling no pain at the moment so this will be brief.
Everything went great. The R.E. did a lap/hsg combo. Both tubes are clear & all essential female parts are good. He can’t explain why the original HSG was blocked. But it ain’t no more. woo hoo!
Headline is: I am good to go!
He wants to switch from clomid to femura . My very next cycle I can do an insem.
I’ll write up more details when I am feeling better. (actually I feel like I could run a marathon - but I can’t seem to find a comfortable way to sit in this chair.)
Thank you all for sending me warm fuzzies. There was a moment yesterday, just before they put me under, that I felt a blanket of love. Knowing that I have such wonderful people rooting for me & caring about me is a very blissful feeling.
Getting anxious
I can’t help it. Rationally I know that I will be ok. That this surgery is a good thing.
But how do I prep the mind for this? I am a new kind of nervous. This is beyond 1st day of school, or new job jitters. This surpasses blind date or traffic court. This is maybe on par with the feeling I had just before I got my tattoo.
I am looking forward to it (as I know it will do good not evil), but since it will be an experience that I have never known my mind is bouncing around like crazy imagining the worst.
I am making lists of everything that I need to get or do before hand. But another awful fear is that nobody will take care of me. Like the shrink said last tuesday: I am a caretaker. I have been my entire life. My Mother (bless her) is not so much. She is a woman that I sent out for pain pills when I broke my ankle & came back four hours later as she had decided to run into a bookstore 1st. For those four hours I was in insane pain.
I at least learned to get pain RX before hand & I have already picked it up.
But will she be able to take care of me? Will I let her?
I think I will go to Church this morning & offer up some of those selfish prayers. Those, “please let me live”, “please let this work”, “please don’t let me crap on the table or anything equally embarrassing”.
Pre-Op shuffle
I meant to update earlier today, but GM has been very clingy & I am only just now getting a bit of computer time. (although this will be a quickie post as GM is parked in front of CNN & sometimes it freaks her out.)
The pre-op stuff was a breeze. Had a short physical (bp check, heart/lung check) & Dr. W went over how I could get an infection, bleed out or die while on the table.
& just wondering, but why do they tell you all that stuff & THEN check your heart?
After meeting with Dr. W I went next door to meet with the anesthesiologist. This is my first surgery and so he was pretty thorough about everything. I partly appreciate that, but I also kind of didn’t want to know. Innocence is bliss, right?
The final stop was to the lab to have some blood drawn. They took 6 vials. Have no idea why. Vampires!
Oh, when I was in with Dr. W & asked him, “So what are we hoping for here?” (This was after I told him if he found any money in me that he could keep it.)
He said he was hoping he didn’t find anything. Which I don’t really get. I kind of would like there to BE something. Anything that shows why I haven’t gotten knocked up yet. Something to show why the ink didn’t flow. Something that explains why it says “blocked tubes” on my chart. Unblock the slide!
His stance was that if they found something it would most likely be endometriosis & that would be bad news. Duh. But at least it would be something concrete as to why nothing has worked.
If he goes in there & everything looks fine what is to stop my brain from going directly to those awful, evil thoughts of, “I’m just not meant to have a kid.”
Luckily I have an appointment with the shrink tomorrow morning & I plan to bring that up. I’m still a bit on the fence with the shrink’s endorsement of EMDR. I intended to check out a book on the subject today. But like I said GM has been shadowing me.
The REALLY good news about today is that my new face products arrived from Sonya Dakar. Woo hoo!! Hopefully this will calm my zitty skin. Her stuff rocks if you have that, “I’m nearly 30 & my skin is still breaking out.” shit.
Surgery Instructions
Yesterday I got a thick envelope from my RE’s office detailing specific before, during & after information regarding the upcoming laparoscopy.
I tell you it freaked me out!
Whoever wrote the instructions was certainly trying to be amusing & clever, cracking little jokes here & there. But when it comes to surgery instructions I prefer less fluff, more seriousness. When knives are involved don’t joke people!
One of the more bummer issues in the instructions is the ‘rule’ that I must walk as much as I can after the surgery. It actually says, “Rest, but do not lie down all the time…spending all day on the sofa and all night in bed will not help the body heal.”
WHAT?????
Ok, I have never ever ever had surgery before, but in the movies & on tv the post-op people are IN BED and ringing bells for help or kool aid. Now you are telling me that I can’t lounge? Lounge seems like a very important step to healing.
I am debating letting anybody else sees these instructions. At this stage they could only be used for bad & not good. I must use the force. There is no way I can milk getting waited on if anybody sees it.
& look- I am not a brat. I am a workoholic. I am up at 6:00am everyday cleaning house, paying bills, shopping, taking care of Grandmother. I am a stay at home Granddaughter. I hate asking for help & I hate needing people.
I was planning on letting go AS (after surgery). Trying to chill out & let others take care of me.
Now I have these instructions that tout, “YOU are in charge of your own healing.”
Bullshit. I will challenge this.
Sex Talk w/ the R.E.
There was just a quick, “how’ve you been?” before Dr. W went all Hardball on me.
W: So how sexually active are you?
Me: Negative 24
W: huh?
Me: It’s been two years since I last…um…did it.
W: OK. (he makes a note)
Me: Why? Do you know anybody for me?
W: huh? No I was asking just as routine. I need to make sure that the tumors on your tubes aren’t scars from a healed STD infection.
Of course now is when Mom slides into the exam room having taken 20 minutes to park the car.
Me: Well I had all the STD tests done before I started ttc & I was never diagnosed previously. W: Yes. But have you had a lot of partners?
DUDE! MY MOM IS IN THE ROOM!!
Me: Actually I haven’t. I am quite chaste.
W: Good.
Me: So what is the plan, Stan?
W: We should go ahead & schedule the laparoscopy.
He went on to explain that they were actually able to unclog (unblock?) the right tube pretty well during the HSG. The lap will let them examine why the left tube is not allowing dye to drain properly. If they find any lesions or whatnot they will fix or remove them on the spot.
However, if they don’t find anything to explain the not draining issue then I will get sewn back up & we will move on to injectables.
If they do find stuff, after it has been removed, we will try two more clomid cycles.
Are you following this? Here is the breakdown:
1) Getting a lap (in ~ 3 weeks)
2) If there is crud in my tubes it will get removed & I will proceed with clomid
3) If they can’t figure out what’s is wrong I will start injectable cycles.
The really shitty thing is that Dr. W wants to do the lap between cycle day 6-12. Then he wants me to take a month off after the lap.
Bottom line- Looks like I won’t get to have an insemination cycle until the end of December or beginning of January. That just blows.
Oh well…At least I know there is a plan of action. There’s a bit of comfort in that.
Counting Down
It feels like I am counting down to everything:
2.5 months & it’s 2006
2 months & then I am 30 (!)
1 month & I start cooking massive Thanksgiving feast
1.5 weeks until I meet with new shrink
1 week until I can read the new Astrology Zone horoscope
1 day until I meet with R.E. to go over my HSG results
20 minutes until the recycling guys show up
Just goes to show that I am certainly not ‘living in the moment’. Not sure how to make that transition.
Yesterday I got a sweet e-mail from J thanking me for coming to the wedding, etc. In the note she says that she “really wants to find a way to visit me in ______, Alabama.” My response to her was that in no way would I allow her to visit me here. That ______, Alabama is my waiting room.
Now that I think of it, that is kind of a sad way of looking at the present. As if there was no there there. True I am not happy living here. True I have never felt less like myself. True I feel like God has forgotten to unpause me. But shit, what if I die tomorrow? What if THIS is really it. I kind of owe it to myself to be a bit more active & present.
Just…how do I get started with that?
Loving You
Things I have done today:
1) gotten weepy over all the support & love from you guys.
2) Scrubbed out my bathroom & Tallulah’s bathroom
3) Made an amazingly strong batch of coffee
4) worked the crossword with GM
5) Called RE’s office to see if I can go ahead & get the lap on the books
6) Called the shrink’s office
one) I honestly feel the love. It is a beautiful, palpable thing emanating from the glow of my laptop. I feel stronger because of it. I feel encouraged. I don’t feel so alone. Thank you to all who posted here, on FF or directly via e-mail. Seriously, women should rule the world. Thank you, thank you.
two) Talula had made it clear that she was offended by the stinky box she craps in. It was long over due. It may sound nuts, but there is a certain therapeutic element to getting rid of shit.
three) I will confess: I am a coffee snob. One of the issues I had grappled with was the long standing decaf debate while trying to conceive. I actually (shockingly) was able to get caffeine free several months ago. Those first two months I was trying I actually abstained from all caffeine and alcohol. It was hell. Not in the withdrawal sense, but in the missing an old friend sense. I grind my own beans, flown in from San Francisco or a great importer in Georgia. I use an expensive and scary looking high tech machine for brewing. My coffee doesn’t drip into a glass pitcher that sits on a burner scalding it. Oh no, my coffee is pressed into a silver thermal carafe. It is a work of art. & this morning I made a damn fine brew. (sorry for the bragging, but there are few things that I take pride in doing these days…)
four) This was brief as GM’s ride to the hairdresser was early. We had just 20 minutes together. I told her that I was having some female problems and that I may need to have surgery. I doubt she will remember the conversation later. But it felt good to have her show concern. She may have just been mirroring my face, but I don’t care.
five) Am I an overly pushy broad for calling the RE’s office? I just know that it can take time to get on the books for a lap & I want to go ahead & sign up. I am already saddened by the realization that I will most likely have to sit out & heal until January. It upsets me b/c getting pregnant was something I set out to do in 2005. January is so 2006. I know in the long run it is nothing, just a couple of months. But I am fucking impatient.
six) Leaving a message at a shrink’s office is weird. Especially if you don’t know the office staff or the shrink. I felt like I was using a d.j. voice. I wanted to project, “I’m not very crazy. Just your normal, basic kind of crazy.” Within two minutes of leaving the message my call was returned by a scheduler. He asked, “how are you today?” I am sure it is a standard type of question. But I immediately imagined the shrinks all listening in already assessing me. So what does my wise ass mouth say? ‘Well I’m not on the roof looking down or anything.” Crickets. Silence. Ah…these are the people that know that my humor (or attempts at it) are a facade. I then say that I am fine. The schedule guy (who must be wearing one of those plantronic head phones b/c his breathing is like RIGHT IN MY EAR) then asks why I need to make an appointment. I get shy. I don’t know this guy. I do not feel comfy sharing with him. So I say that I need some help dealing with some medical issues. He then asks what kind of medical issues. FUCK. I don’t wanna say! So I reply, “female stuff.” That usually shuts a guy up. But not mouth breather. Oh no. He wants to get ALL in my business. ‘What KIND of female stuff.” I snapped. I apologized later. But what flew out of my mouth was, “The female stuff that involves a vagina, uterus, SPERM!” Whatever, I’m sure he put a star next to my name & in big block letters wrote: LUNATIC
The 1st appointment I could get was November 3rd. Doesn’t that seem so very far away? But I guess it isn’t. Two weeks. It is the day I am due for my next period. I’m sure I’ll be in a fine and dandy emotional state. ha!
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