Comedy of errors, or, my day so far

9am this morning I called the pharmacy, and told them of their error. The customer service representative said she'd speak to the pharmacist and call me right back about shipping replacement patches.

10 am rolls around and I then spoke to the nurse at Big Clinic, who had kindly called me back, and she confirmed that I did the right thing by putting all four teeny patches on at once. She was going to fax me a new prescription but given that it sounded like the pharmacy were going to send me a replacement, I said not to bother.

11am and I was still waiting for my right back phone call. Nothing. So I went to the dentist to get some dental work done. And the pharmacy called at 11.30 while I was sitting around waiting for the novocaine to fully work, so I answered it, and had a slurred conversation with the customer service rep, who told me that I'd have to pay full price for the repeat prescription, because I'd used the patches they sent me. Uh, well, see I had to use them, I said, because I needed the medication. And I had to use them all because YOU sent me the wrong dose. "No, no" she says "I mean, if you'd checked the prescription when it was sent to you, instead of waiting until you were about to use it, you would have noticed it was wrong, and could have sent the box back unopened". Umm, so, it was YOUR error, and you want me to pay? Is that what you're saying? We went back and forwards for a while, until I convinced her that I did check the prescription when I received it, but the prescription label and the patient information sheet being correct kind of threw me, and that I didn't realize I was expected to be a CSI-style investigator to spot an error that their double checking didn't pick up. She said she'd wait until the pharmacists changed shifts and ask the next guy.

Noon. Lunchtime. Spotting. Start freaking out that my period is going to show today, and everything is going to go to pieces after all.

We get to 3pm, and I realize my knickers have stuck to one of the patches, which I later discovered has rolled itself up into a little ball and is not giving me any estrogen at all. My knickers are presumably nicely estrogened up, but that's not exactly helpful. Obviously my butt is not as big as I thought it was, because who'd have thought there wasn't enough real estate for four patches to coexist happily? I unrolled the patch, which took forever, as that thing did not want to unravel, and taped it back onto my arse with bandaids. And who knows if it is now in fact providing any estrogen at all. But the good news is, no more spotting.

So, cut to 4pm. Next guy pharmacist has obviously shown up for work. The customer service rep calls me and says that next guy pharmacist agrees with me that I shouldn't have to pay for the estrogen patches. Finally, someone with some common sense! However, overnight shipping is going to be $15. What??? I pointed out that if they hadn't made the mistake, I wouldn't need overnight shipping, and that they normally don't charge for overnight shipping. But I guess they don't charge for overnight shipping when you're spending several hundred or thousand dollars, and ain't going to cut you any slack at all when it's their own dime. Gee, thanks guys. Thanks for the fabulous customer service and making me want to use you forever more. I sighed and agreed, as I just wanted the damn things to show up, and it was after all going to be cheaper than going to my local CVS for the patches. I am clearly lame and not good at arguing my case.

I wonder what else can go wrong? Oh, and my cheek has swollen up from the dental work, so now I look like half a chipmunk. Nice.

Surrounded by feckin' eejots

I swear, you gotta be on your game with IVF, otherwise things could go badly wrong.

So, I had a lovely therapy session. She really calmed me down and got me thinking positively. We discussed everything I'd done to get ready for this cycle, how I was going to be in the best place possible to get pregnant. Lovely, lovely. The best ever, in fact. We hugged, she wished me luck and I asked if she was sticking around for a bit so I could use the restroom (I'm often the last patient of the day and didn't want her to walk off while I had her restroom key). Off I went to the restroom, to shoot up.

Except there was someone in there, taking a dump. Groaning and taking a dump, actually. Making weird little grunting noises, in fact. I decided that there was no way on this earth that I was going to shoot up in a stall next to someone grunting and defecating. Just think of all the poop vapor that could infect my needle stick! So I peed, washed my hands and went back to the therapist's reception area.

Where I promptly opened my pants and shot up with Ganirelix, just as the therapist walked out to collect old magazines from the magazine rack. "Oh" she said "I didn't realize that's what you were doing, you could have stayed in the office, or used an empty room". I explained how I didn't really care where I shot up, just so long as people didn't think I was using heroin, and just so long as there was no-one doing their business in the next stall. But she stayed to watch, because I guess it's mildly fascinating watching someone stick a needle in their belly.

So then I needed to change the estrogen patch. I put the first one on on Sunday. It was leftover from the aborted "monster cyst" cycle. I undid the new packet which was from my new prescription and a teeny tiny eensy weensy little estrogen patch fell out onto my hand. Not the monster patch I'd just removed from my arse but an eensy weensy dainty patch. The petite lady-sized menopause patch and not the plus-sized super shrivelled ovaries menopause patch. I looked at the wrapper. It gave the dose as 0.025mg per day. I'm supposed to be using 0.1mg per day. It was a quarter the dose it should be.

I started panicking a bit. How on earth could I not have noticed? But then I thanked my lucky stars that I knew it was the wrong damn size and didn't just blindly assume that it was right. I stuck it on my arse anyway. I left the therapist's office and called the nurse on call number at Big Clinic. Except being after hours you have to speak to the answering service, who'll call the fellow on call. I got through after many many rings. Someone said "hello?", promptly dropped the phone at their end, and then didn't respond when I was saying "hello? hello? Is this the answering service for [Big Clinic]?" I hung up, thinking "eff this, I have a brain in my head, I can figure out what to do".

So while I drove home I figured out that I got patches which were one fourth of the normal dose (I'm good at math, clearly). Therefore, all I needed to do was put four patches on at once and I'd be golden. Except then I'd be out of patches. So that's what I did, and put a call in to the IVF nurse asking for a new prescription that I can take to a local pharmacy, being as menopause patches are covered by my insurance.

And then I looked at the box of patches, thinking "how on earth did I miss this?" And there, plain as day on the box was the prescription label saying "0.1mg", which is what I'd looked at. And there, right underneath was the box saying "0.025mg". Which I'd somehow overlooked. But the idiots at the pharmacy, who do this for a living, and who should effing know better and check these things had put the wrong label on the wrong box. Feckin' eejots. They shall be getting a piece of my mind over the phone in the morning.

I mean, can you imagine? If I hadn't used the damn patches before I'd be on a quarter of the dose, thinking everything was peachy, and ruining my cycle. Damn feckin' eejots. You gotta be on your game, people. Check everything twice!

Huh

I forgot how much ganirelix stings when you inject it. Huh. Funny how we wipe such memories from our minds. I shot up at work, intending to finish a project before going home, but ended up just sitting there rubbing my belly and moping because I couldn't concentrate. So I gave it up as a bad job, and went off to rub my belly at home.

I had some potential spotting this morning, so now I'm a bit worried about things happening too early, but hopefully the old witch will hold off for another couple of days. We'll see. Hey, at least it'll give me another thing to worry about, because obviously I didn't have enough things to stress over. I find I spend most of my time at the moment writing out lists of things I must do before I leave for NY. Or mentally making other lists. The lists are depressingly long on the work front, but hopefully I can pull some work concentration from somewhere and get through it all, rather than listlessly surfing for yet more IVF information that won't help me anyway. At least the house is slowly getting organized, and the laundry is slowly getting done so that's an improvement.

Mixed emotions

Well, here I am. Patch day 1. The start of it all.

And my healthy eating has gone completely to pieces. It's like I start too early and run out of steam. Or the stress of getting close to the cycle causes me to not be able to maintain focus. Sigh. I will try again next week. No more pastries or apple pies!! Or cheese. Oh, lovely cheese. At least I have kept off the alcohol and caffeine, so that's something.

I feel very unprepared. A lot of that is because my house is still in chaos. Let's face it, I am a slob. I am not good at picking up after myself so inbetween visits by the house cleaner, it degenerates. And I have to have it clean because I'm going away and will have friends coming by to feed the cat. And one of them is I think somewhat likely to snoop. So not only does it have to be tidy, all the fertility books and paraphenalia has to be hidden. I spent much of yesterday trimming hedges in the yard. Which gave me a sunburn and sore shoulders. Yes, being a good hippy I used manual shears, and the hedges had not been trimmed in, oh, forever, since I cut the yard guy down to once every 2 weeks. He is taking it out on me by basically doing nothing, and I would have fired him completely by now if I hadn't been stressed about being out of town and the grass potentially growing to a foot high or something if I didn't have him coming by at some point. As soon as I get back, his ass is gone, though. Anyhoo, the hedges took a LONG time to trim, and I was trying to tell myself that when I get back I'll be pregnant and won't want to stand in the heat doing yardwork so it better be in good shape now. Today I am tackling the chaos that is my desk, as it has piles of papers strewn about that should be gone, gone, gone.

I had my last acupuncture appointment yesterday. Not that I told them it would be my last, but I am done with acupuncture. I have given it 2 years and 3 months. A whole year with the current acu. And I don't feel that we really fixed everything. I mean, some things have got better. I have more energy than I used to. I get EWCM. I am ovulating later. All good. But I cannot afford to keep throwing money away like I have been doing over this fertility stuff. $75 a visit on acupuncture, and $175 on therapy add up VERY quickly. And it used to be $100 a visit for acupuncture when I was taking herbs, and when I saw my second acu. If this cycle doesn't work, and if I do another cycle, I will find some other way to destress. Well, I might go back to therapy for a bit, as if this cycle doesn't work, I'm sure I'll have issues. But, I am tired of handing over authority for my treatment to other people. To acupuncturists who don't even tell me what they think is stagnated or deficient. To therapists who ask me if I'm open to a relationship all the freakin' time. Hello? I said yes, what is this, the CIA where you ask me the same question repeatedly to see if you can catch me out? But of course, it seems very much to be end-of-an-era ish to be stopping acupuncture, as it has been so intimately connected with trying to conceive. I basically started it after 3 failed IUI's so I've pretty much been doing it all along. Just think of what I could have bought with all that money!! I need to stop hemorraging cash over this baby dream, so it is done. I may try to go back to yoga, as at least that will help with my general fitness level as well as destressing me.

So. Then. Here we are. Patch day 1. Although I feel unprepared and have been putting bad things down my gullet, my eggs had better be prepared. I hope that they respond well to the meds, and I hope that they develop nicely and in unison. I hope that I have a good egg retrieval, a fantastic fertilization report, and a nice, easy transfer of great quality embryos. It is kind of out of my hands now, I feel. It's too late to change anything. Yes, I should have lost weight. Yes, I should have been more rigid with the healthy eating. Yes, I shoulda woulda coulda done many things. But it's not as if any of us really know if those things have an effect on cycle outcomes. So I will try not to stress too much. I will try to relax into the cycle, just breathe, and let the docs and magic lab of Big Clinic do their work. I wil try to believe that I have a good chance this cycle. I will try to hold on to that thought. Even when the knot of panic in my throat rises up and threatens to stop me from functioning at all. One day at a time, one hour at a time. I can and will get through this again.

Fashion challenged

I have a confession to make. I find going to NY highly intimidating. Fashion-wise, that is. I imagine the streets to be full of Carrie Bradshaws wearing their Jimmy Choos and their Manolos, and being all immaculate and wonderful.

I am not immaculate and wonderful. I especially won't be in hot and humid July/August, during an IVF cycle where I can be expected to bloat up horribly. And that's after I already feel fat because of the weight I've gained so far in TTC. And I have to go to work in my employer's NY office. And I'll have a bruised arm/back of hand from the blood draws and probably from the IV for egg retrieval but it'll be hot so I'll want to wear short sleeves and will be self-concious. Of course I also imagine the office to be populated with swank NY professional types, who will be dressed to the nines every day in sharp suits.

So I already bought a new tote bag, following on from the trend (which I hope is still going on) for women to have giant handbags. I figured a giant bag would be perfect for schlepping drugs, water bottles, needles and other paraphenalia around. And maybe a paperback or two for the waiting room at Big Clinic. And then yesterday I went shopping for some new t-shirts and possibly a work top or two that I can wear to pretend that I am somewhat fashionable. I'm just going to say that I thank God for the current blousy styles that are practically maternity-like in shape. Not that I want to be reminded that I'm not in maternity clothing for real, but it's nice to have plenty of give room for the swollen belly. I tried on a few tight T's as well, and they looked just awful so I am giving those a miss.

I guess the suitcase is slowly getting packed, mentally at least. I am figuring out what I want to take with me and slowly figuring out some of the logistics. I'm still fucking scared, though, but what was that supposed new motto? Oh yeah, que sera sera...

Return of da fear, part 6

Last night, I realized the fear had returned. I've been blaming my jitteriness of the past few days on work stress and the consumption of caffeine. Yes, I was bad, I fell off the caffeine abstinence wagon. But yesterday I was good, I crawled back on the wagon and really tried to de-stress when I got home.

But the jitteriness didn't go away. And I kept thinking "holy crap! I'm going to be travelling to NY in less than 2 weeks!". And then looking around the house, which has deteriorated into its usual chaotic state, and thinking "I'm not ready". I am calmer this time, somewhat, about the actual IVF. I am now determined not to ask for E2 levels so that I don't stress while stimming. "Que sera sera" is my new motto. Though I think Doris Day would turn in her grave at my bad singing every time I try to drown out the other thoughts with a spirited rendition. But being away from home is stressing me out. Being away from my kitty is stressing me out. And I'm nervous. What if Big Clinic isn't the answer to my prayers? What if it still doesn't work? And what if it does? I'm so used to failure that I'm not sure how I'll deal with success.

Feeling green

I'm feeling green. But not sick any longer - I'm all better now. The green I'm feeling is not nausea but environmentally friendly.

In honor of that little concert that went on yesterday, I decided to do some shopping and devote myself to being a little bit more green. I already do quite a few things (drive a Prius, have already switched all the bulbs in my house to CFLs, put the TV etc on a power strip so I can power it down overnight, run the a/c at 78, etc), but not enough. There's always more that can be done.

And besides, I've been lusting over a few products featured on Tree Hugger in the last few weeks. And I love me some shopping, so I thought, why not? Anyway, soon to be winging their way to me are: nylon shopping bags, a SIGG water bottle, and reusable silverware.

So, I resolve to say no to plastic forks, shopping bags and water bottles in future.

Sicky

Got my +OPK yesterday. Yay for LH surges. So I will be starting the estrogen patches on the 15th, and Ganirelix injections on the 16th.

In other news, I was as sick as a dog yesterday and had to leave work early to spend most of the afternoon lying on the sofa, moaning. The rest of the afternoon was spent in the bathroom. Oy. I'm pretty sure it was something I ate, but I have no idea what. I was going to post something funny that I thought up about how explosive diarrhea and OPK's don't go well together, just to get you all going "ewwwww" but really it was more about having to hold pee for a few hours but not being able to when everything else is coming out at once. And I'm too tired today to try to write in an inventive manner. So, that's all you get. The bare plot outline of the blog post that would have been the funniest ever. It was going to have you hooting and spitting out your coffee all over your monitor, I promise. But sadly for you, I'm too pooped to even try. Hah, pooped. Geddit?

Happy 4th!

I have no plans today, deliberately. Y'see, I'm trying to do that whole healthy eating, no booze thing, and it's so freakin' hard if you actually do anything social to stick to that. So I've dropped vague hints and lies that I have plans so as not to sign myself up for any barbecues. Pathetic, I know, and an infertile should try not to retreat into her shell but I'd rather keep myself on an even keel before my cycle. And besides, all barbecues have other people's kids at them, which probably would be a painful reminder of what I don't have. I'm sure my therapist would have a field day over this, but whatever. Self preservation is needed at the moment.

Things are looking good so far for this cycle. I had major omelet yesterday evening and this morning, so am hoping for a nice on time +OPK, which will mean that my travel plans won't need rearranging (hopefully). I have to say, though, that it is really nice that in the last six months I've had EWCM regularly and in good amounts. I used to be so jealous of the women that got omelet, as I could never tell, and hardly ever had real positive OPKs either, making IUI timing very difficult. In fact, I missed having an IUI two cycles because I misread the signs and ovulated early. So at least the acupuncture or something I've been doing has had an effect on that.

I'm even managing to keep the positive thinking going so far, although somewhat surprisingly to me, I've had a major shift in thinking over the past two days. It's quite weird. If I were a flaky spiritual type, I might say it's a "sign" but I'm just going to go with "painful realization". See, I always wanted twins. Ever since I was a kid. I had best friends at one point who were identical twins, and it was so fun being in on the jokes, fooling people about who was who (I could tell easily), and seeing that whole constant friend and companion thing. I wanted that for my kids. And then when I moved to IVF, I was secretly happy on one level, because I thought this would mean definite twins. Not identical probably, but twins nevertheless. And then after failing an IVF, and then failing another IVF and then another I started thinking that if I succeeded, I was not going to do another fresh IVF because I just could not face (or afford) going through this again. So I kept thinking that it'd better be twins, otherwise I'd end up with an "only" unless I was lucky enough to get frozen embryos and have a successful FET. Ha, right. So, twins, twins, twins. That's what I wanted. That's what I focused on. Sure, I knew that twin pregnancies were much higher risk, that it was damn expensive having twins, that it would be harder on me and them in so many respects. But I didn't care. Of course, I would have been thrilled to just get and stay pregnant. I told everyone I'd be thrilled with one OR two but I knew that inside I'd be disappointed if it was only one. Because then I couldn't just be DONE with trying to add to my family.

And then suddenly a few days ago, I started desperately wanting a singleton pregnancy. I just don't think I have the energy to deal with a twin pregnancy or parenting twins. I just don't think I have the money. I want a normal pregnancy and birth. I don't want complications - I've had enough damn complications with actually getting pregnant that I just want to be normal again. I don't want people staring all the time, and saying "look, twins!" and worse. I want to be able to focus on one baby at a time. I want that baby to have the best chance in life, and not risk their health with a higher chance of prematurity and other things going wrong.

And I'm at peace with it. All of a sudden. All of a sudden, a singleton is my goal and twins would be welcome but not the aim. Not that this means I'd transfer any fewer embryos. After all, I've transferred 3, 4 and 3 (had to go back down to 3 because that's all I had) and not had any stick. If Big Clinic allows me to transfer 4, which I think they will, and if I have 4, I'm going for it. But mentally I will be focusing on thinking "stick, baby, stick" rather than "stick two babies, or one baby that's OK too, stick". It will hopefully be easier to chant to myself and easier to maintain focus. It just seems weird to me now that I know that, and I don't even know what caused me to start thinking this way.

Because I know you need an update

Got a tiny bit of EWCM this morning, so I'm hopeful for a +OPK by maybe Thursday. Please, universe? Please? It would be so nice not to have to have the usual mad panicked rearrangement of my plans because my body does not cooperate and is tardy with reproductive-related functions.

Already bored

I've taken one OPK, and I'm already bored with this cycle. Monitoring for ovulation is so...well...dull. Pee on a stick once a day, having tried to hold enough pee in the hours preceding the test. That's it. Nothing else to do. Boooooring. It seems such an age away before I can get started, although I know that it'll fly by in certain respects.

And just in case anyone was in any doubt, it was a negative OPK. As it should have been on cycle day 10. Yawn.

My trip to buy OPKs

I've probably mentioned before that Big Clinic doesn't seem to use birth control pills with their IVF cycles much. Not quite sure why that is, but then Big Clinic marches to the beat of its own drum, and they are Big Clinic after all, so they must be doing something right. So, this is the cycle where I start the estrogen patches and ganirelix, and I have to monitor for ovulation so I know when to start everything. Which means I have to use ovulation predictor tests. And I've been putting off buying them, because I have started to hate the OPK/HPT aisle at my local CVS. I have bought so many things there over the years, initially with so much hope and then only sporadic hope, and then a sense of doom and futility. And I always feel like the idiot staff there are judging me, particularly one woman who I'm sure looks for the (lack of a) wedding ring each time.

Anyhoo, as further background, my next door neighbors are big partyers. They're not loud and raucous, you understand, it's more family parties and barbecues. Except they have a lot of family, who all seem to have a lot of SUVs. So every weekend, about 3 SUVs are parked in front of my house. And this is their big party week where they've got people staying from all over, and hired a dude with a special enormous barbecue for roasting slabs of meat, which was parked in front of their house. It's an annual event. I never say anything about this, or the regular weekend parking, as after all, it's a public road, but it bugs me. Why don't their guests park in front of the other neighbors? Why just my house? They do also park down a side street but usually not in front of other houses in our street. Am I so obviously lame that I am the easy target? Plus, earlier in the week the neighbors had pissed me off by putting garbage in front of my property (they do this all the time too) on the wrong day. I came home to a violation notice from the city that the garbage was out on the wrong day. I left a voicemail for the city worker that it was my neighbors' garbage, and left the violation notice on their front door with a polite note (they were out for dinner when I got home from work). They did move the garbage when they got home, so I was all prepared to forgive them when the city worker called me back early the next morning. Oh, she said, I was going to issue a violation notice to both houses, because it wasn't clear whose garbage it was, but your neighbors were in, and specifically told me it was YOUR garbage. Grrrrrr.

Cut to Friday night. I get in from work, make dinner, close the front blinds, read a bit, slump in front of the TV, and for some reason decide to peek outside at about 8.30. Not only were there cars and SUVs everywhere, one was actually parked right across my driveway. Blocking me in. I wondered if they were actively trying to piss me off, or whether they were just idiots. But at that moment decided that they had to know that this was unacceptable, coming on the heels of the garbage incident, as it did, and that I need to have access to my driveway. For which I needed an excuse to get out of the house, and decided that it was the perfect moment to go and buy those OPKs. So off I toodled, and rang the doorbell. After an age, the man of the house opened the door. I was quite rude, I admit, and said that I was blocked in. He said they'd cleared the garbage away. I said "I saw that, thank you, but I need to get out of my driveway". Various people spilled out of the house. Some woman who I've seen before (the wife's sister I think) tried to engage me in conversation, gushing about my lovely accent. It was probably a ploy to stop me from being a bitch. Eventually they figured out whose car it was - "oh honey, it can't be family, we'd never do that, it must be a friend", the guy emerged, and moved his car. I drove off, huffing.

Well, the local CVS is literally a 1 minute drive away. If that. So I thought I'd go to a further one just to pretend that I really had somewhere to go, and wasn't being petty and making them move the car for no good reason. As if they'd actually be checking on when I got back to my own house, but still, I was in a huff and not thinking straight. I don't like the next nearest CVS to me, as it's pretty skanky, but I remembered this big shiny one at the north end of downtown, right by the hospital. That'll do, I thought, and it's bound to be a 24hr one, so no worries about it being closed. Off I drove. I got there, and was a tad surprised to see a uniformed guard at the door, but OK, the north end of town is a bit ghetto, so not too surprised. But when I got to the "family planning" aisle, I was really pissed off to see all the condoms, pregnancy tests and OPKs behind locked doors. You have to ask for a staff member to get them for you. Eff that, I thought, I'll go back to my local CVS. But as I left, I just got angrier and angrier.

I mean, I used to work in a big store when I was at school/college. We knew that condoms were prime theft targets. After all, teenagers and young adults don't have much money and are embarrassed buying them. But they need them. So most places suck it up as the cost of doing business. I've also noticed when I go to Walmart to buy Equates that lots of young males use the self-service checkout buying condoms (makes me laugh, when I'm also in line buying pregnancy tests and they probably think I'm also embarrassed, but I'm really just impatient). Anyway, I thought, that's good for the guys, they can get their condoms without hassle. Cool. Things are moving on. But this CVS, in the part of town that has most need for access to condoms, locks them away. For fuck's sake. In this day and age, when we should be working to prevent the spread of HIV, and teen pregnancies, a rich company like CVS can't just deal with some condom thievery? Or can't put a vending machine there or something? I was put off my OPK purchase because of the hassle. How many young men and women walk out of there without buying condoms or pregnancy tests? How much heartache is caused by this? It made me want to scream.

Of course, if I had the courage of my convictions, I'd immediately boycott CVS and write them a letter explaining why. But I am pathetic, I don't like Walgreens and Target is a long way from my house. So I went to the local store, made my purchase and came home seething. At least I had full access to my driveway when I got back, but the lack of consideration for other people this world shows amazes me sometimes.

Please spare a thought

or a prayer for little Emily Claire, who was born and went to heaven yesterday. Emily's membranes never healed closed after a routine amnio at 15w4d, and her brave mommy battled her way through months of hospital bedrest with constant fluid leakage to get to very nearly 36w. Emily always had some fluid around her, albeit only a little, so there was always some hope, but sadly it was not to be.

Kim, my heart is breaking for you. I don't know why life has to suck so much sometimes.

Another random post

There's nothing like writing out a list of things you need to do to make you realize that you need to get on with it already. So I called the eye doctor and made an appointment, which I had this morning. And yup, my prescription got worse, as I suspected. So I need new glasses. I ended up getting new frames because they were going to have to send my glasses away for two effing weeks just to put new lenses in the frames I have. Another $300 down the drain - thank goodness I have vision insurance, otherwise it would have been $600. AND I picked the "cheap" frame deliberately trying to keep the cost down. But now I can't see because they dilated my pupils so much. Hate that. They never dilated my pupils this much in the UK - you still got the drops and were still dilated, but it didn't incapacitate you for hours afterwards. I guess the US has to do everything bigger and better. Including pupils.

I do find it funny though that they warned me against going home and cutting anything up or otherwise using knives or sharp instruments, but let me drive myself away in my own car. OK, yeah, worry about me slicing a finger, but allow me to be in charge of a very large blunt instrument that could kill a few people if I take a wrong turn with the steering wheel. Sheesh.

Random post

Hey, got my cholesterol down to 192, according to the handy-dandy home meter. Whoop! That's continuing the pace of a drop of about 10 a week, for 7 weeks now. I'm pretty happy about that.

Messed up the HDL reading, as I didn't put enough blood on the strip the first time, and then tried again with the same strip and of course you're not supposed to put two lots of blood on the same stip. Then I managed to drip all over the coffee table and the instruction book.

The list

Thanks for the comments, lovely commenters. You're making my allergies act up again, though, I warn you. My eyes are really quite watery these days.

But anyway, today there's a list brewing in my head somewhere. A list of things I must do before the IVF. Which, now that it looks like I am actually going to cycle have crept up from "oh yeah, I should have done that already" to "oh shit, I'm running out of time". Some of these are just mundane things that I really should do before I leave my house for 2-3 weeks and leave someone else in charge of the cat and putting up hurricane shutters. Some of them are things I should do before I get pregnant.

Bwahahahahaha.

Sorry, yes, I am still lame enough that I think "hey, maybe it'll work. Maybe I'll get knocked up." Lame, lame, lame. Been down this road before. But then again, I wouldn't do another cycle if I didn't have some hope of success. So sometimes I lean in to the lameness like it is an old friend offering support. And I give in to the siren call of planning for a real live baby to take home. And indulge my dreams just for a little bit. Just in case the gods smile on me this time. You just. never. know.

So, the current list goes a little something like:

Eat healthily.
Figure out just what "eat healthily" really means once and for all.
Stop boozing.
Stop drinking caffeine.
Start the darn prenatal vitamins again.
Exercise. Every day, or thereabouts.
Buy 6 million cans of cat food, extra kitty litter and several bags of dry food.
Buy all hurricane supplies (water, batteries, food, etc) that I should have bought at the start of June.
Whiten teeth.
Get eyes checked and new lenses in glasses.
Dye hair.
Call plumber and finally get the kitchen sink fixed.
Call electrician and finally get the dryer fixed.
Find cellphone charger as can't rely on car charger when I won't have a car.
Find hurricane shutter instructions so can put them in an obvious place just in case.
Find friend dumb enough to take on cat care and shutter duties for nearly 3 weeks.
Figure out who's going to cut the grass and clean the pool while I'm away.

I think that's enough to be going on with. But I'm sure I'll add more things to it later.

Look Ma, no cysts!

White pants. They work every time.

By yesterday evening, I had what I'll call "heavy spotting". Which kind of gushed a bit when I got home. Except it wasn't a red gush, it was a brown gush. Now, I have two types of period starts. The first is the early in the morning red gush. You know, aided by gravity when you first get out of bed. That sort of thing. And then there's the evening start, which is heavy brown spotting. That turns in to a red gush in the morning. I have always decided that the evening start is really spotting, because it's not red, because you read on these fertility sites that day 1 = first day of red flow. But often my brown spotting is also flow. And I have very light periods over all, so I often have one day of flow with only half a day of red. The rest is just brown light flow/spotting. So I often end up agonizing over what day is really day one of my cycle. And I have always figured it doesn't really matter, as long as I'm consistent.

So last night, I couldn't decide. I thought I'd set my alarm anyway, and see what happened overnight. There was not much action overnight, so after I got up to pee, I decided to say that it hadn't started, go back to bed and sleep until 9. And do the ultrasound tomorrow. And then I lay there, agonizing again. Not getting back to sleep. You see, I have this theory that I start recruiting follicles early in the cycle. So then what if what I've been calling day 2 is really day 3, AND I recruit follicles early? This could have a big difference in my response to the stim meds because I could be starting them too late. And then of course there's the self-ridicule that comes along with being 38 years old and not being able to figure out when my period starts. Pre-fertility meds I was always sure. The first sign of anything was the start. This was before I learned about spotting and flow. Red and brown being different. And started agonizing over what was really what. Did I gain anything by this agonizing, I wondered? Was it really serving anything by waiting until I had red flow when my cycles have been so effed up by years of birth control pills that there's very little of that anyway. And as for consistency? Well, what I have been consistent about is NOT getting pregnant. So why continue to follow the same old rules, when all they've got me is fatter, poorer and more bitter.

And then I decided, what the hell. Let's go back to what I used to do. Call the first day of real spotting day 1. Let's see if starting early helps any. So I hauled my ass out of bed and into the shower, and schlepped off to the local RE's.

So I checked in, and sat in the waiting room. And sat. And waited. And waited some more. And I looked around, and didn't recognize any of the patients, and only two of the staff. And I felt old, and from another era. I looked around at this new batch of patients who did not start going there in 04 or 05 or earlier but instead in 06 or 07. And I wondered if any of my 04 contemporaries are still around, still trying for #1. Of course, just at this very point, two women near me struck up a conversation.

"Blah blah blah. Have you just started treatment?"
"Yes, well sort of."
"Are you doing IVF?"
"Oh no, we've done one IUI cycle and this is our second. We have a son already, and we'd never do IVF. It's just not worth going through all that when our insurance doesn't cover it. How about you?"
"Oh, I'm doing IVF. It's my first. But my insurance covers it, luckily, otherwise we wouldn't do it either."
"Oh, well, if your insurance covers it, then of course do IVF. Ours doesn't, as I said. Well, it covers diagnostic testing, but we've had to pay for the IUI out of pocket. It's sooo expensive."

It was at this point that my eye started watering. Must be the allergies, I guess. I sat there looking into space thinking about what a freak I would be to these people if they only knew what I'd done and was about to do. 5th IVF cycle, entirely out of pocket. Still trudging on. Moved on to an out-of-state cycle at Big Clinic. The drastic, big guns that only the desperate women do. I must be such a fucking alien freak to them. And I felt so sad and so alone. And so so freakish. So a tear rolled down my cheek. I wiped it away. And then another one came, and another one. And I did my best to pretend that it was just one eye that was watering, and tried to pull myself together.

But then it was my turn. And the ultrasound tech, who was one of the old hands, was so nice to me and so lovely, and so excited about Big Clinic and so hopeful that my cyst was gone, that I just wanted to hug her. But I didn't, because I'm far too British for that. So we stuck the dildocam where the sun don't shine to check up on monster cyst and she said in a very excited voice "IT'S GONE!!!" And we both said "hooray!" And I wanted to love the world. She counted 6 antral follicles on the right, and 2 on the left, which isn't all that many, but it's a respectable number. They were all lovely and evenly sized, and although not as many as I would like, they looked better than plenty of other "CD2" ultrasounds because of their evenness and suddenly I realized that my decision to go in a day earlier was vindicated.

So I left there feeling happy. But it's funny, that damn allergy kept coming back on the drive home. Every time I thought about those women in the waiting room, my eyes would water and a tear would roll down my cheek and I would feel like crap.

And then I started thinking of my internets. My wonderful also-barren friends that I would never have met if it wasn't for blogs and chat boards. The ones I have met in real life and the ones I haven't. The ones that are also multiple IVF failures who, yes, keep going, even when insurance doesn't pay and we have to scrimp and save and borrow and appear desperate to the rest of the world. Because we are desperate. And with good reason. The prize at the end of all this is worth the pain now. We all hope we will be the ones to finally succeed, but if we don't, we'll know we gave it our all. And I'm so thankful to have these women in my life. OK, they're scattered all over the world, and not able to sit in the waiting room with me telling me not to listen to the naive barbies, but they are there for me through my computer screen. And by the time I got home, I remembered that I wasn't alone.

So thank you, internets, for coming to my appointment with me. You may not have realized it, but you were there for me today. And I needed that.

Damn allergies. My eyes are watering again.

16 DPO and STILL nothing

I feel like I've done everything I can. Exercise, jumping up and down. And yes, today I am wearing my new knickers AND white pants.

I just want to get this show on the road so I can start cycling. I mean, not that I'm starting any meds until the end of this next cycle, but I want that ultrasound to see if the monster cyst has gone down. And of course, if there had been any actual sperm anywhere near me this cycle, I might be excited, not annoyed. But there wasn't, so unless this is the next immaculate conception, my body is just playing tricks on me.

And can I just say that when all these authorities confidently predict that luteal phase length is always the same - bullshit.

Here's the proof:

This lovely chart doesn't include this cycle. Now, granted, plenty of my cycles over the last few years have been medicated. I've played with clomid, progesterone, clomid + progesterone, injectables, IVF + progesterone injections. But then why does my luteal phase still vary, even on unmedicated cycles? And I don't think I am wildly off with my ovulation date - I'm still checking my temperature, use a predictor kit a lot of cycles, and have that lovely omelet stuff. I don't think I'm misreading all those things.

Oh well. Que sera sera.

Good gravy

Still nothing. 15DPO and counting.

Of course...

...every time I confidently predict that something will happen, it never does. Case in point, the arrival of my period. I've had four straight months of a 13-day luteal phase, and I had all the signs of its impending arrival yesterday, so I figured, hey, it's month number 5 of the new length post-IVF luteal phase. It'll definitely be here today. Nope. Nothing happening.

Not that it matters, except that this time I decided to travel to NY on July 22nd, as that's a Sunday, so I don't have to be stressing about whether it'll be cycle day 4 or 5, about maybe working on Monday and flying on Monday night, and all that extra stress. In my inital calculations, I figured July 22nd would be CD4 so that's cool. Now it's more likely to be CD3. Not a biggie at all, but the earlier I get there, the longer I have to stay in the hotel, and the more expensive it'll be.

Anyhoo, I ordered the replacement meds today, which will be arriving tomorrow. So I should be all set. If only things would actually happen. And if only the cyst has gone. And all that wishful thinking.

And....action!

After what seems like an eternity, things are finally slotting into place. The scheduler called me, and I am on the schedule. My place in line is booked. At my last clinic, I never had to worry about a "schedule" because they didn't have one. They weren't working to capacity, so didn't have to worry about slotting people in. You just cycled when you cycled. But Big Clinic is, well, big. And they strive to "only" have 10 egg retrievals a day. AND they have their funky lab closure schedule. So there's a whole jockeying for position thing that you have to book your place in line early enough so that you don't get bumped to the following month.

But, phew. I am in, providing no cyst or bloodwork mishaps.

I also have the prescription for the ultrasound in my grubby little mitts. OK, I lie, it's in my grubby little email account, but same difference. I have some forewarning that the crimson tide will arrive tomorrow (a.k.a. spotting) so I should get the ultrasound on Thursday, and then I will know what's going on. At least for now, that is, as we all know that things can change quickly.

In other news, I splurged yesterday on a home cholesterol monitor. My next cholesterol blood draw will be just after the IVF, and as I think the IVF meds affect cholesterol levels, and partly caused the spike in the first place, I'd really like to know what it is before I start taking anything. And I wanted to know what it is now, to see if what I'm doing is working. Although I could call the doc for that information but hey, that involves a phone call and it's all so much effort. I'm VERY pleased to say that, after 6 weeks of dietary modifications and exercise I've got my cholesterol down from 260 to 202. Whoop! Of course, that 202 isn't official, as that wasn't drawn at the doctor's office, but I'll take it. It's nearly good. Hopefully it will be good before I slap that first estrogen patch on my butt.

Will somebody please call me back? Pretty please?

Still waiting to speak to someone from Big Clinic.

Dr. S's secretary DID call me back on Friday, to tell me to call the scheduler and the IVF nurse, so it's not that nobody has called me back, but I'd like to do more than trade voicemails. I called the scheduler Friday, and the IVF nurse this morning. And nothing. I feel like I'm this teeny little person jumping up and down waving a flag and saying "Notice me! Notice me! I'm over here! OVER HERE!!!"

OK, so I'm not very patient. But I want to KNOW that I am on the schedule. I want to know that I can get that damn ultrasound done when I need it done. I want to know that the replacement meds are ordered. I want to know these things. I don't want to be left wondering if they're all getting together saying "hmmm, we have these voicemails from Solitaire and it's too late to get her on the schedule. Who's going to tell her she'll have to wait until September?"

ETA: 5.49pm. 5.49! Good thing I wasn't anxiously awaiting anything. Well, OK, I was, but you know what I mean - there were no important blood test results to be delivered. The IVF nurse called me back. The prescription for the ultrasounds and the meds will be winging their way to me tomorrow. The nurse said she'd spoken to Dr. S. who'd said that I needed to get that u/s done sooner rather than later to see if that big cyst was still there and needed aspirating or not. Uh, yeah. That's what I've been saying for two months. But whatever, things are finally moving at last.

TGIF

Bleh.

I'm still mad at the Government. But what can I do? Nothing, I know. I should quit whining. At least they are not deporting me.

I went this morning for my repeat bloodwork for the hep C and cholesterol. I'd managed to gain a pound, despite being supposed to be on a low fat diet. Um, OK. Well, actually I kind of forgot I was supposed to be on a low fat diet, and had been concentrating on having a low saturated fat diet. So I guess I need to be better about that so that I am not up again when I go back. Otherwise they will start telling me off.

I asked the doc if he'd fax a "clearance" letter to Dr. S. at Big Clinic. Sure thing, he said. Nooo problem. And then when I handed over the address details he asked if I'd like a recommendation to a local fertility doctor so I didn't have to keep flying up to NY for treatments. Yeah, well, I had to explain to him that that horse had already bolted. Elvis has left the building, and all that. Been there, done that, been fired already.

So I called Dr. S's secretary and left a message about getting back on the schedule, and whether I needed to talk to Dr. S. for his approval first. She left me a message telling me to call the IVF scheduler and the nurse, so I guess that means I don't have to speak to him but I'm not entirely sure. I have duly left a message for the scheduler so hopefully she will get me on the calendar. And I will call the nurse early next week. The crimson tide should appear on Wednesday (ish) so I should have plenty of time to get a prescription for an ultrasound if I call on Monday or Tuesday.

I guess therefore I am getting back into the swing of things. I'm not really excited about it or anything, though. It just is what it is. In fact, the fear of a bad response is already started to creep in, and I haven't even got approval to cycle yet. Sigh. Why can't this be easier?

Why am I here?

Every few months it seems, something happens that sets me back to wondering why on earth I am still in this country. It might be something as simple as wondering how on earth people managed to elect W twice. Twice! I mean, once is a simple enough mistake, but the country should have known better the second time around. More often, it is due to some bureaucratic nightmare that I am put in because I am not a citizen or green card holder. Not for want of trying, I'll have you know. I've been trying for more than 6 years. Nearly 7, actually. Only another 6-7 to go and then I might be able to get citizenship.

So today, I found out that the license I need to do my job was granted to me in the "immigrant" category and not the "non-immigrant" category as it should have been. So the government are proposing to yank my license number away from me. Not that it means any actual difference in practice. I can have a license number back again when I get the green card. I can still do my job, just maybe with not the same authority. But it is the sheer ridiculousness of it that is really upsetting me. I actually called this government department to ask a question about something else entirely. And the person on the phone proceeded to grill me about my license, and told me I'd been given the wrong one (over 5 years ago) and he'd have to do something about it.

It's just another indication that, because I'm not a citizen, the government can impose another set of rules on me, can impose limitations on me, can yank my security out from under me, and can require me to stay in a job as an indentured servant. All because. I thought America was supposed to be the land of immigrants. The melting pot. And frankly, I completely understand why people come here illegally. You've got to be rich, stubborn and flexible to be able to do it legally. You've got to put up with BS. You've got to knuckle down and take it all meekly because you were the one with the audacity to decide to move.

So, why not just go back? I have thought about it often enough, that's for sure. Well, first, there's the family connection. Then there's the whole trying-to-get-pregnant thing. It's going to be harder in the UK. I'd probably still have to fly over to this country to do IVF anyway. There's the inertia factor, the financial factor and the whole moving-across-the-atlantic-ocean-is-a-giant-pain-in-the-ass factor. Then there's the fact that maybe, just maybe, I like the weather, I like the size of my house (that is, it's not the approximate size of a shoebox), on the whole I like the people, I like the relative lack of sexism in the workplace, I like that you can more easily get ahead based on merit.

But man, my patience has worn very thin. Very thin indeed.

Some days I just don't know why I put up with it. And I don't need to get stressed out and spend several hours crying at my desk when I'm supposed to be growing good quality eggs.

Can we talk knickers?

I got new knickers yesterday. And no, I don't mean golfing trousers that come down to just below your knees.

But I'm not happy with them. You see, I wanted some boring beige-colored no see knickers that I can wear under trousers without any VPL. So, when the catalog appeared for that famous underwear company whose name may or may not begin with a V, advertising their semi-annual sale, I promptly sent off an order for what was advertised as no show panties. I got the microsmooths, thinking it would be the best option.

Now, OK, I'm wearing a skirt today so I can't attest to whether they are or aren't "no show" but dayum they're uncomfortable. The elastic digs in, the top rolls over underneath the ginormous belly, and they're uncomfortable on my inner thigh crease. I even checked the sizing chart before ordering, and I know I didn't order one that is too small. I guess I should have ordered the low rise version so that my belly could just flop all it wanted over the top of them, but still. I'm miffed.

So now I need help, internets. Clearly, ordering blind based on what a company says their knickers do isn't going to help. And it's not like you can test drive knickers before you buy them. So I'm looking for advice. What do you think are the best knickers? What should I be wearing? Most of my knickers are a combination of Ol.d Na/vy 3-packs, old Mar-ks & S-penc.er knickers from England that are falling apart and growing holes and that V place's cotton ones that have ridiculously big and tight elastic bands. My knicker selection needs an upgrade!

Fear and self-loathing in suburbia

I had a dinner party on Saturday. It had been planned for weeks. I only did it because I seriously owed several work colleagues a dinner, and my turn was way way overdue. Except of course I hate entertaining at home. I just hate it. Well, I should rephrase - some things are OK if they are low key. I did a breakfast last year when England were playing in the World Cup, and we had mimosas, coffee and croissants and watched the football. Easy. There was also only four of us in the house, which is a number I am pretty content with. Come to my place to watch a DVD and order pizza? Sure. As long as the house is tidy first, which it isn't always I admit, so I need some notice. But a dinner party for 6 just scares me. That whole providing food, making sure the timing works out, not killing any of your friends thing. Scary.

You see, I worry that I'm going to give my guests food poisoning - maybe my hygiene standards aren't what they should be, maybe I left some of the food sitting out too long, maybe there'll be rat droppings in the food and my friends will die. OK, the rat droppings thing is ridiculous, I know, but I have a fear of rodents and an even bigger fear of other people being the ones to find out I have rodents. As far as I know, there are no rodents at my house, and I have a pest control company come out every 2 months so I think they would notice. But still. I'm irrational. Then I worry that the food doesn't taste as good as it could do. And that people hate it and are only being polite when they say it's delicious. And I worry that I'm messing up too much as I go along - I forgot to refresh the ice in the ice maker, because I never use it in drinks, so it was probably stale in their glasses of water. I forgot to buy coffee, and while 5 of us said herbal tea was just fine, what about the other one? I forgot to buy fresh sliced almonds so they were probably a bit stale too. I forgot about the naan bread until the last minute, and by then it was cold and I didn't have time to warm it up. The rice was overcooked. One of the curry dishes was probably too hot for everyone. I didn't plan out my serving dishes in advance, so was rummaging in the kitchen cupboards. I don't know if other people are comfortable having appetizers in the living room, or serving themselves wine as I expect them to. I worry that people will think badly of me because I never did get the sink unclogged, and it takes two hours to empty so as people arrived there was disgusting water in there. I wonder how lacking my social skills really are.

And of course, when I'm nervous, I drink. So I was knocking back the wine like there was no tomorrow, and then started making social gaffes. I remember staring at my friend's cleavage for too long - I was actually trying to figure out if I could see her bra or if she was wearing a sleeveless top that was supposed to be visible. But I'm sure I stared way too long and was probably noticed. I made an inappropriate remark because I misunderstood what someone was saying about the color of Barack Obama's lips.

I know, this all sounds stupid stuff. I've been told this morning by one colleague that he and his wife had a great time, and a lot of fun. It was probably all just fine, and nobody cares about this stuff. But I spent much of yesterday (hungover) hating myself. Ugh. How on earth do people enjoy entertaining? Are they the ones with perfectly clean houses who are master chefs? Do they not spend the entire time worrying about their guests? I wish I was one of those people.

And now I feel really fat and poisoned. And I have my repeat bloodwork on Friday, so I really need to spend the week being perfect food-wise. Not to mention that I want to be off the booze in preparation for the IVF, but now have two open half bottles of wine just begging to be used up when I don't feel poisoned any more. Because of course I can't possibly just throw it away, can I?

I did a brave thing

I just booked a hotel room in NY for my anticipated IVF cycle! Ooh, I'm crazy wild!

But the place books up way early, and I hear it is much easier to change a reservation at the last minute than to make a new booking. And, as I found out when the cycle got cancelled in April, you can cancel without cost up to 24 hours in advance. So I did it, I booked a room. How's that for positive thinking!

Hurry up and wait

It's now 6 months since my last IVF egg retrieval. Six months. I think yesterday was 6 months to the day of my egg retrieval. Or transfer. Or something. Some big date that has now faded into memory. Did I get all thin and fit and toned in those six months? Ah, no. I lost 12 lbs, gained back 9, lost 3, gained back some. You know how it goes. I'm currently 5 lbs lighter than my heaviest. I am exercising most days, although it's often only walking. I am eating a healthy diet. In all, I'm not doing too bad. Apart from the being chunky part. And drinking too much wine, if I'm being honest, as I've got back on a wine kick since Memorial Day weekend.

But God, it's been a long wait. I never expected it to be anywhere near this long - I was ready to go in February, and could have cycled in February/March if it hadn't been for the coculture biopsy. I hope coculture is worth it after all this! Then I had to sit a month out due to the lab closure, then of course there was the cyst/hepatitis C debacle, and here I am. Ostensibly I'm sitting out another month waiting for the repeat negative hep C test, but I know as well as the RE knows that it's due to lab closure again. I mean, I know Big Clinic has one of the best labs anywhere, so I guess this whole cleaning/recalibrating/whatever they do thing works for them, but it is extremely frustrating sometimes.

AND it doesn't look like I've ovulated yet, so all my excitement on Sunday is coming to nothing again. EWCM on CD13 does not necessarily equal a nice CD14 or CD15 ovulation, sadly. So there's that. Not that it really matters in the grand scheme of things. Just so long as I DO ovulate, that's all that matters. And each additional day's delay means one less day of panicking over getting on the IVF schedule, as it becomes more likely that I'll have the repeat bloodwork results early next cycle. But still. A girl likes some things to go her way some of the time.

Sunday omelet

There's a post in here somewhere about how things keep breaking at home and how it must be a metaphor for my life or something. But that would be depressing. However, I just feel the need to mention that the following things need to be urgently fixed chez Sarah: the air conditioning, the clothes dryer, the dishwasher and the swimming pool pump. I do, at least, still have air conditioning. In half of the house, with some feeble cooling in the other half of the house. So that's something, but I was already told it'll be over $600 to fix it. Haven't even called about the others, and I only realized this morning that the pool pump is totally burned out which is probably a $1000+ repair. And I thought that not doing IVF would be easier on the budget. Sigh.

But, anyway, I wanted to post with good news. Good to me, that is. I have eggwhite! On CD13! Woo-hoo! If you have to ask "eggwhite what?" this is not the discussion for you. EWCM, silly. This is good news because since my last IVF I have had consistently late ovulation. I was beginning to get worried that I'd given myself PCOS or something from eating too much ice cream. Or if the four IVF cycles had permanently altered my cycles. But I was also getting these weird burning poky ovary pains at random times, seemingly unrelated to ovulation. I kind of ignored them because that's what I do with random pains. Ignorance is bliss, right? And then there was the cycle cancellation due to the 5cm ovarian cyst. Of course, I didn't equate burny poky pains with a cyst, because why would I? As far as I was concerned I didn't have any pain from the cyst, because I thought that that would involve constant pain.

This cycle, though, since overhauling my diet and mostly giving up dairy, I have definitely noticed the absence of poky burning ovary pains. And I suddenly went "Oh! I wonder if it means the cyst has gone down?" Of course, I don't know because of the lack of an ultrasound, but I have been hoping. And then today I had EWCM. At a more normal time of my cycle. In other words, not a week late. So that's made me hope even more that the cyst has gone, and maybe it was the cyst that was delaying my ovulation and not PCOS or something. So I hope things are good now for the IVF that I hope to get on the schedule for. But as we all know, things can easily change in the blink of an ultraound wand so I'm not going to hold my breath.

Enough about me - I also want to spare a thought for everyone facing bad news in this crappy IF world that we live in. To my dear Stephanie, my heart breaks for you, and Cindy I am thinking of you and hoping you are surviving. I hope you can both pick yourselves up and keep moving forward somehow.

Word to the Wise

If you decide to spend an obscene amount of money on fancy cellulite busting shoes, do NOT, I repeat, do NOT take a "before" cellulite photo unless you are a size 2 or less. It will just depress you. It is far better to live in ignorance as to the exact amount of cottage cheese you have in place of skin on your thighs.

Just saying.

Humdrum

Well, so I'm settling back into life at home. I know, I was only gone for a weekend but it seemed longer because we did so much. And of course I mucked up my nice healthy vegan diet and swapped it for my old, unhealthy "fried eggs and ice cream are OK" diet. So it takes me a while to get back to healthy eating after giving in to temptation and having fun.

And of course there's always the reflection on the time away. Cali makes me feel inadequate because she's so smart and witty and full of amusing anecdotes. And me? Not so much. I'm the quiet mellow type that doesn't have all that much to say. So of course I'm all in awe of how Ms. Cali keeps everything together, what with looking after GM and all. But she has motivated me more on working on the "when I grow up" plan of figuring out where I want to live and what I want to do once my green card comes through/I have babies/my aunt's husband dies. You know, all that stuff. But there's plenty of time to get it all sorted out. And besides, I need to actually visit some of these cities that are on my short list of potential good places to live.

I went to therapy last night. I hadn't been for 4 weeks because the therapist had been out of town, although she swore she was only away for 2 weeks. Whatever. I felt like I'd accomplished a lot in the time she was away. I'd read a lot of books, I'd changed some of my thinking, I'd done lots of mind/body work. In fact, I probably don't need to go to therapy again. So why did I cave when she suggested another appointment? I'm not quite sure, except that I will say that it was good to have yesterday's appointment hanging over my head in order to keep me focused on changing things, as I knew I'd have to report back on what I'd done. And she wanted me to keep focused with the IVF coming up, hopefully, so that I go to NY really in the best frame of mind. Well, of course I know she also wants to get paid but I'm ignoring that aspect for the moment.

I still didn't really get into a lot of what I'm really feeling. Although I did own up to wanting to strangle the new RE when he did the old "you need to get clearance" thing. Hopefully she knew that I wasn't speaking literally! And I owned up to feeling jealous at being left behind yet again, and about being lapped twice by women who I started TTC#1 with and are now pregnant with #2, or are trying for #2. That hurts, and it's not their fault, but it makes it hard to want to have anything to do with them. So I tried pushing myself to reveal more of the darker thoughts that I have, and I did fairly well although was definitely aware that I was still doing too much of the "see how normal and well adjusted I am" type chatter.

The next appointment is in 2 weeks so I'll make a decision then as to whether it's time to move on or not.

What I did on my summer holiday

OK, so I've only been gone for a 3-day weekend, but it feels like it was my summer holiday. Especially as this year's vacation is (hopefully) going to be taken up with an IVF trip to NY. But I went away, people! I forced the lovely Cali to put up with me for a whole weekend, which she did most graciously, even when I was being an obnoxious brat and complaining about having to watch "Because I Said So" on DVD. In my defense, it is pretty darn bad and I was, ahem, tipsy, due to the quantities of red wine I had consumed. Well, OK, there is no defense. I was just obnoxious and one should never say "this movie is really crap" every 90 seconds when someone else is trying to watch it.

But! We went out to dinner and lunch and breakfast. We did touristy things, and looked at fancy houses and took a little river trip and went to a museum. Culture! Big City stuff! We had fancy beverages. We rode around in a turquoise convertible with all the guys checking out the foxy ladies (OK, maybe that part was just in my imagination although surely some of them were checking us out). And we tried to go to a movie in a real cinema but failed due to a technical mishap with the car. But even sitting in a parking lot for 3 hours or so while waiting for the tow truck guy is quite bearable when you can talk about the important things in life, such as poop and the quality of the dining clientele at the Golden C.orral buffet restaurant, with someone as witty as Cali.

So, thanks for putting up with me, my dear. I had a lot of fun, and am sad to be back at work today. Boo hiss. And, being the bad blogger that I am, I forgot to take my camera, so I have no photos to delight anyone with. I am bad, I know. But it's probably for the best for my ego, because Cali is way more photogenic than I, so I'd probably just cringe at the photos anyway. But maybe I can discuss those insecurities in my therapy session tonight, so I'll see if that's of any use whatsoever or if I've already got past my need for her.

Back to the grind...

TGIF

TGIF blogosphere, TGIF. I am dragging today. I haven't been sleeping well all week. Normally I'd look forward to snoozing a lot at the weekend, but this weekend I am going away for some FUN so there will not be enough snoozing to catch up on the deficit I have created.

I had a weird dream last night which involved a public bathroom and getting someone else's shit all over the hems of my jeans. And then much cleaning up. And then weirdly a hot guy who came to take me away from the frantic shit cleaning, and we were walking along blissfully hand in hand. But were we smelling of shit I wonder? Anyway, I haven't quite figured out the dream yet, but I guess it'll come to me at some point.

Have a great weekend, one and all.

Well, that didn't work

No ultrasound. They refused to do it, because as I'm now an "outside monitoring" patient, I must provide them with a prescription before they'll do anything. I felt like saying I wanted to be their patient again and do an IUI this month just so they'd do the ultrasound for me, but I didn't because what would have been the point? They were already refusing me everything. So I drove there for nothing. Made the appointment for nothing (and, may I say, it would have been nice if the scheduler had mentioned the need for a prescription). All for nothing.

So, my 5cm cyst could have shrunk, or could now be a 7cm cyst. Who knows? Certainly not me. Fuckers.

Sooo, here we are. My next hep C test is in 3 and a half weeks. It's been taking 2 weeks to get the results, so unless I have a 5 and a half week cycle this time, I'm not going to have that magic "clearance" letter from the internist, and hence have a prescription from Big New Clinic in time for next CD2. Which means no ultrasound again, presumably. Which would put a dampener on me starting estrogen and ganirelix that cycle. Oh, of course I shall call and beg and plead for early Hep C results, an early "clearance" letter and an early placement on the IVF schedule for Big New Clinic. I shall certainly try. But given how the beauracracy seems to go around here, I am beginning to think I might be cycling in August/September. And that's IF the cyst has shrunk on its own. If it hasn't, there'll be another couple of months wasted while I get the cyst operated on. Which is getting to be just plain ridiculous. I'm wasting fertility here, you wankers!

In better news, I had a physical exam this morning for my g.reen c.ard. The doctor was very nice, and agreed with the absurdity of testing me now for infectious diseases when I've already been in the country for six years and could have infected a whole bunch of people. He smiled and said "ahh, that's the American way!" with a twinkle in his eye. In fact, once we got to the questions he had to ask me and he had to ask if I was curently or ever had been insane, we had quite a chuckle over me saying "no, but wouldn't I say that even if I was insane?". So he ended up giving me the form, and asking me to tell him if I'd ever had any of the diseases listed, and that was that. I had to have a booster vaccine for tetanus and diptheria, and a skin test for tuberculosis that they will check on Friday. And if I pass that (and the HIV and syphillis tests, which I've only just had done for IVF and passed), I'll be all set.

The lost art of written communication

Why is it that there are a very large number of otherwise well-educated men in this world who think that it is perfectly acceptable for them never to have learned to type, and that short, terse emails with no capitalization is a perfectly proper means of communication?

I'm talking about my RE at Big New Clinic, Dr. S., in particular at this moment. Now, I should say first of all that it is wonderful that he responds to emails, and responds quickly. My last RE didn't do that at all. He didn't like being at the beck and call of the computer, so his nurses would return emails sporadically on his behalf. If at all. So, actually getting a quick response from the actual doctor is great, and lovely, and all that.

But the quality of said emails is rather lacking.

I emailed him to let him know that my hep C tests were totally clear. Foolishly I mentioned that we were retesting in a month, just to be doubly sure. I asked what to do about the cyst. He emailed back a short, pithy reply which essentially said that we won't do anything until my doctor clears me.

There he goes with the "clearance" obsession. I'm sorry, what about "I do not have hepatitis C" do you not understand? Isn't that clearance enough? His emails just leave me screaming for more. For more understanding, more clarification, more punctuation, for eff's sake. Just more.

Of course, in actuality, I can't cycle until July/August anyway because of Big New Clinic's annoying lab closures, so I have to sit out a month. Again. I had to sit out March for the same reason. So it doesn't matter if we decide on cycling again after my next hep C test. And I will ask my internist to fax Dr. S. something with the magic words in it. But I would like to keep an eye on that cyst, because I don't want to finally get the approval to cycle again and then find out that the cyst has swelled even more. And then have to sit out yet more time for a cyst removal or something. Because at that rate, it's going to rapidly get towards a year since my last cycle, and that's frankly ridiculous.

So I'm going to march down to my local RE's office and just get the darn ultrasound done at next cycle day 2. And screw Dr. S. and his "clearance" obsession. The u/s could be tomorrow or Wednesday, depending if today's spotting turns into anything more meaningful.

So there. I'm taking charge. If I want someone to stick a dildocam where the sun don't shine, by gum I'm going to get them to do it.

And thank you all so much for your comments, by the way! I'm so happy that you're happy for me! Gives me the warm fuzzies all over. However, it pains me that other internets got bad news when I got such good news and I never usually acknowledge that pain here because it always makes me uneasy to do so, especially as most of said internets don't know me from Adam. But I'm thinking of you all - people with bad news, people with good news, and people just waiting for something to happen, damn it.

Oh My Fucking Gawd

I am one of those people. I made the 5%. Satistics were my friend for once.

The blood tests were negative!!!!!

No virus, no antibodies, normal liver tests. It was a false positive. I do not have hepatitis C. All that worry and angst over the damn positive test for nothing.

I am SO relieved. Can't even begin to tell you how relieved. More than fucking relieved. I am utterly dumbstruck and amazed. My cholesterol was sky high, though, so he wants me to try dietary/exercise modifications and go back in a month when we will retest the hep C just to make sure and retest the cholesterol again to decide whether I need treatment.

Thank you God.

Things you don't know about me

I've been tagged by Cali !

7 things you may not know about me, but then again, knowing me, I'm probably repeating myself.

1) I didn't get my first car until I was 26. I just didn't need it in most of the places I lived up to then, and I can't say I was really keen to start driving. But once I did, I actually loved the freedom it provides. Even if I still would take trains everywhere if I could.

2) I secretly love opera.

3) I distinctly remember my first taste of avocado. It was at my friend Rachel's house - I'd stayed for dinner after elementary school one night and they had salad. With this alien substance called avocado. It cracked my world open thinking that there were these exotic, sophisticated people who had avocado for dinner. In my town. Who knew? I'd never even heard of such a thing before. At my house, salad was limp lettuce, a bit of tomato, some cucumber, green onions (that I didn't like) and maybe some pickled beets (ditto on not liking them). With salad cream that I didn't like either. I did not get a good start in life with salad!

4) I shave my toes every now and then. Yup, hairy toes. Ewwww.

5) I often don't shower at the weekend. Even if I go out and do yard work or something. Sometimes I just like to sit around stinking. It seems like an honest smell. Not that I'd go out in public smelling the place up, you understand. Well, maybe to Winn Dixie where I know I'll be in good company, but nowhere else.

6) I cannot let a day go by without cleaning out my ears with Q-tips. Even though you're not supposed to do that, but I just can't not do it. It gets all nasty feeling if I don't.

7) I was a competitive swimmer when I was a kid. I was a pretty mean backstroker (backstrokist?) if I do say so myself. But laziness won out, and I didn't want to practice twice a day or get up at 5am so I gave it up.

OK, as far as tagging goes, as usual everyone I want to tag has either done this already or probably doesn't read my blog (hmm, maybe I should have posted about my insecurities??). So, consider yourself tagged if you read this and feel like doing it.

In immigration news, I have made my appointment for my medical exam, which is set for next Wednesday. I also dug out old vaccination proofs last night, and of course I don't have them all, so I guess for some things we'll have to test to see if I am immune. Or maybe the doctor will just give me some shots right there and then. I was also horrified to find I had the wrong type of birth certificate, as I only have a short form, and don't have a copy showing my parents names, which apparently I need. I imagined this would involve a lengthy delay, but luckily in the internet age you can order the darn things on line and they'll even try to mail them the next day for an extra fee. Score! So I've ordered a copy from England, and paid the premium processing fee in the hopes that this won't delay things too much. Should be OK, I think.

Aaaand, in hep C news, tomorrow is the day. The day I will know. It was hard to fall asleep last night thinking about everything, so I imagine that tonight will be even worse. Gack. This is it, people. The truth, plain and unvarnished. No more hoping for false positives. A potential IVF delay of over 6 months. Eeeek. I'm pretty nervous now, I have to admit. I feel my heart racing every time I think about it, and have to work to calm myself down. It will all be OK in the end, though. I hope.

ETA: Just in case the fact that this post is dated "Wednesday" and I'm saying "tomorrow is the day" could cause confusion, my appointment is not today. I started the post yesterday, got caught up in work and finished it today. In my defense, it takes a while to think up 7 things! But it looks like it's kept yesterday's date. Just to confirm - the appointment is tomorrow, Friday, and this is Thursday, despite evidence to the contrary. Or I'm in Groundhog Day or something.

Um, so, wow. Big news!

OK, 3 more days, yadda yadda yadda.

But here's the big news of the day:

The US government has been working away diligently, and all of a sudden they've cleared some immigration backlogs. Meaning that I am cleared to file my ad.justment of st.atus to get my g.reen card! Whoop!! Yes, to eagle-eyed readers, this is the very thing that I was told in January would take another 3 years for me to be able to do.

Umm, like, wow. I have to have a physical to prove that I am healthy. Bwahahaha! Luckily, hep C is not on the list of prohibited diseases. Phew, phew and double phew. But I will have to get a hep B vaccination, so I'll have to ask the internist if that's safe for me to do right now.

Now, obviously it'll take a while to get all the reams of paperwork together, book the physical, take the tests, find my old vaccination records, have new vaccinations, etc, etc. And when I say reams of paperwork, I mean the forms together pretty much make up a small book. But lordy! Here I have sat, annoyed at my job, seething that I couldn't go anywhere else, and this week I've actually been having a good week at it, working away diligently, and bam, here's my opportunity to change jobs if I really want to. And I don't think I'm ready! How ridiculous is that? But I just haven't figured out that old second career thing, or where in the country I might move to, or how on earth I'd tell my aunt that I'm ditching Florida. So I actually have to start thinking about what I really want, and figuring out what I'm going to do. Not that I'd do anything until after the next IVF is over, of course. I guess it gives me a great opportunity for if the IVF fails, of completely changing my life. And if it works, I'll be staying put anyway because I finally reached maximum benefit entitlement so I'll want as much maternity benefit as possible.

But ooh, I'm all giddy! This week is turning out to be a trip so far. Still hoping it doesn't all come crashing down on Friday.

4 more days

4 more days until I know the Hep C situation.

Not that anyone's counting, of course. Me? Obsess? Never!

In food/healthy living news, though, I lost 2lbs last week! Score!

And my aunt loved her M-day flowers, so that worked out well. In fact, she positively gushed about them, so that made me feel better, and I managed to avoid pretty much all mention of the day by not turning the TV on, and not socializing, so I didn't dwell too much on things.

All in all, apart from the 4 more days thing, it's been a pretty good start to the week.

Taking charge

I am still loving The Fertile Female by Julia Indichova. The link is two or three posts down. I have read it twice now, and I really feel energized by it. My therapist was telling me that I have to see this delay in the IVF as a positive thing, to think about the benefits and blessings. And so I'm trying to jump in with both feet and think that what I really need to do is go at this IVF with everything I've got. Oh sure, I said for previous IVFs I was really giving them everything, but I wasn't. Not everything.

You see, I was still giving the power for my own health and fertility to other people. To the doctors and acupuncturists and manufacturers of herbal preparations. I was looking for healing to come from the outside in, whereas I need to look for healing from the inside out. I need to figure out what it is that's holding me back, that's blocking me, that's preventing me living in the moment and potentially conceiving. While of course availing myself of the best that modern medicine has to offer, but in a partnership, not a giving-over of power.

So I cancelled this week's acupuncture session. And every alternate session thereafter. I'm not ready to give it up entirely, but I'm going down to once every two weeks. I figure I've got all the healing out of acupuncture that I'm going to get, but I can keep going as a prop. Routine maintenance, as it were. I may switch down to once every month if I get brave. And I gotta say, it felt like such a rush. Like I was finally taking charge. Just because Randine Lewis says that acupuncture is the Infertility Cure doesn't mean that it's MY infertility cure. So even though it may seem on the outside to be such a small thing - after all, I'm still going to be going, albeit less often, on the inside it feels much bigger than that. Much much bigger.

I've also been experimenting with foods, and I made a kick-ass miso soup yesterday, even if I do say so myself. I've never made "real" miso soup before, just always used a packet mix. But I made a kombu broth, and then mixed in fresh miso paste. Oh the heavenly smells that wafted up! It was like my body was saying "yes, yes, yes!" Seaweed and miso! Gimme, gimme, gimme. Who knew? When I thought my body craved ice cream and dark chocolate, eating this stuff felt like manna from heaven. And it was so deeply satisfying to eat it. I felt that finally I was nourishing myself. I mean, don't get me wrong, I try to eat healthily anyway, but I feel that Julia has shown me which foods really deeply nourish me and which foods I should avoid.

So, there we are. I'm putting a positive spin on the delay. And, hell yes, I'm going to avoid church tomorrow. But next week I intend to start going again. Of course, by next weekend, I will know the score with the Hep C. I have to say, it's going to be so much easier to keep up the positive thinking if I have no viral load and am cleared to cycle again. If I have to have interferon treatment, I'm sure it'll be very easy to crumble and fall. But I'm determined to cross that bridge only if I get to it. I very easily fall into worrying about things that may never happen and basing such worries on imaginings (like imagining that a positive Hep C means no more IVF ever and no adoption - not true). So, here's hoping. Here's hoping that I can maintain the momentum, and not fall into the pit of despair if the test results don't go according to plan.

So, the Mother's Day post

Mother's Day, oh Mother's Day, why are you always such a kick in the teeth?

If there's one holiday that I dislike more than Mother's Day, I can't think of it right now. Valentine's Day comes a close second, but mostly I just find it kind of stupid. Mother's Day makes me downright sad.

First there's the fact that my own mother has died. Every year I have to watch commercials trying to lure people to buy stupid trinkets for their moms, or advertising some Sunday brunch special that I'm not going to go to. Then there's the fact that I'm infertile, and may never be a mom. Sure, I try to hold out hope, but sometimes it is hard. No mother + not being a mother is a double whammy for an infertile, I think. Then there's the fact that I'm still single, so have no mother-in-law or husband to put some of my emotional energy on to. Then there's the fact that my aunt, who is more of a mom to me than anyone else, has a child that refuses contact with the family so she has her own sadness over Mother's Day and every time I get her flowers or something I worry that I'm just making her remember that I'm not the true daughter who should be doing that for her.

Mother's Day itself, as a concept, is not so bad. Yes, we should honor the mothers in our society, and our own mothers in particular. They are worthy of thanks, and at least one day a year of being treated as special people. That's all fine and dandy. It's the TV ads that get me. That make you feel that you are only normal if you are out buying your mom a camcorder or something. And seriously, who does that? I've never met a mom who would like a camcorder for Mother's Day over a nice meal, a hug and maybe some flowers. And then of course, there's the whole church thing. I'd like to maybe start going to church again, and had thought of going this Sunday. Until I remembered it was Mother's Day, so that's what the service is bound to be about. Which will probably make me cry. What's a girl to do?

Oh well, come Monday it'll be over again for another year. I will, as I do with everything, endure.

Fertile female

Read this book if you're dealing with infertility.

Awesome.

Much better than her first book. Much better.

And that's all I'm going to say on the subject. But this is giving me hope again. I feel peaceful and calm and centered. Even though I'm going through this trauma of the hepatitis C diagnosis, it's helping me to believe that it's still possible to have a child.

Public Service Announcement

Wow, thanks to Marie Baguette. She found a site that I didn't find, and I've been googling fairly obsessively. It is here. Thank you, thank you blogosphere, for your support and information. First of all, it is a more recent study than those I found, and while I was finding things that said "as many as 10% of patients with hepatitis C have no known risk factors", or "10-15% of patients have no known risk factors", this one says that 20-40% of patients have no known risk factors. 20-40%! And look at all those things that people did in the year they got infected - surgery, intravenous drips, intramuscular injections, acupuncture, manicures and pedicures. Wow. It recommends that this information is made more widely available.

Uh, yeah. That would have been nice. Who knew? I certainly didn't. I thought that Hep C was like HIV. That you'd have to pretty much know where you got it from - intravenous drug use, sex, etc. Not that you could have a small puncture wound with a presumably sterile needle and then somehow pick it up. Would it have stopped me doing IVF? No, probably not. It may have given me pause before doing acupuncture, I guess, given that that was really an unnecessary addition. Can't say I've had any manis/pedis in the last couple of years (pedis always made me a bit squeamish) but I can say I'm not going back again for a pedicure at least.

I wish they would make this information more available. It makes me want to start telling everyone to be careful out there. That, you know, infertility treatment isn't just hard on your wallet, your hormones and your emotions. It could open you up to other problems. Injectable medications aren't a no-brainer. Acupuncture may not be entirely safe. An IV drip for egg retrieval? Is it worth it all?

So, anyway, I am moving more towards acceptance. I am moving on from denial. I figure I have it, that this was not a false positive test. And strangely, the need to know where I got it from is abating. Could be the donor sperm, could be the IVF itself, could be the acupuncture. Could be something unrelated. I'll never know. Or at least, never be able to prove anything for certain. I can live with that uncertainty. It just means that life has dealt me a shit hand. Before infertility I'd probably have been more angry and more needy about figuring out where the infection came from. But now that I've been dealt the shit infertility hand, I've already gone through the "why me?" angst and I don't have the strength to go through it all again. Why me is just because sometimes shit happens. There's no rhyme or reason. Life just sucks major ass sometimes. Of course, maybe I just haven't hit the anger stage, or whatever the stages of grief are that you have to go through.

But, whatever, in two weeks I will know. I had my appointment with the internist yesterday, and he seemed like a nice guy. He is running a shit load of tests on me, some of which I'm sure have no bearing on hepatitis but he seems to be running them because he can. Or maybe he just wants every tiny piece of information possible before deciding on what treatment to give me, and wants to know if I am healthy enough to cope with the treatment, which is pretty nasty, let's face it.

So I have a different type of two week wait now. Not the two week wait for pregnancy test results but nasty disease test results. I'm sure I'll be every bit as anxious and distracted as I am before a beta test. I've already been mentally rehearsing the conversation with the big boss at work where I ask for reduced hours for interferon treatment, but let's hope it doesn't come to that, eh. I'd much rather do another IVF than waste more than 6 months injecting myself with really nasty drugs. At least I have the injection techniques down pat though, so that will help I suppose.

58.9

58.9

That's the number that is going around in my head today. That is the number that will spell doom and gloom for at least the next few weeks, possibly for the rest of my life.

58.9

I got a copy of my lab report sent by Big New Clinic, and it arrived in the mail yesterday. This is the value for my hep C test. Less than 1 is negative. I'd been reading how less than 3.5 is very often a false positive, whereas over 9.9 is 95% certain to be a true positive. So of course, I assumed that my result would be 3.4, or heck, maybe 5.6 or something. You know, something nice and low that would reassure me that this would just be a silly false positive. Because how can I have hep C? I have done NOTHING risky since the last two negative tests. NOTHING. N.O.T.H.I.N.G.

But it came back at 58.9. There go all my hopes of it being a false positive. Well, I can hope to be in that 5% but really, since when have statistics gone my way lately?

Fuck.

Tomorrow, tomorrow, I wuv ya tomorrow

OK, so exactly how long do your liver enzymes stay affected after drinking too much alcohol?

I decided last night that a glass of wine with dinner would be very nice. After all, if I'm about to get a diagnosis of a chronic liver disease, I may as well make hay while the sun shines. Of course, of course, I have a little self-restraint issue when it comes to red wine so one glass turned into three. And I am not stingy on the pour, so I am feeling a little worse for wear this morning.

And wouldn't you know it, the internist's office called to say they needed to reschedule Monday's appointment. My heart sank when they said that, because I was imagining another three weeks delay. But no, they are going to fit me in tomorrrow at 3pm. So there go all my plans of having a non-alcoholic weekend so that my liver is in tip-top condition for the tests just in case. And the secretary casually mentioned that I need to fast for 4 hours before coming in, so there also go my plans for a nice Friday lunch.

But, eek! I'm going to see the doctor tomorrow!

On a related note, I did a pubmed search for hep c and ivf, and found this:

Impaired ovarian stimulation during in vitro fertilization in women who are seropositive for hepatitis C virus and seronegative for human immunodeficiency virus.

OBJECTIVE: To analyze the impact of seropositivity with hepatitis C virus (HCV) on in vitro fertilization (IVF) outcomes. DESIGN: Retrospective, case-controlled study. SETTING: Fertility clinic of academic hospital. PATIENT(S): 42 IVF/intracytoplasmic sperm injection cycles in HCV-seropositive women and 84 matched control cycles. INTERVENTION(S): IVF/intracytoplasmic sperm injection treatment for infertility. MAIN OUTCOME MEASURE(S): Ovarian response to stimulation, laboratory findings, and implantation and pregnancy rates. RESULT(S): Absence of ovarian response was statistically significantly higher for HCV-seropositive women compared with controls (10/42 vs 5/84 cycles, respectively). For cycles with oocyte retrieval, HCV-seropositive women required more gonadotropin units compared with controls. The maximum estradiol levels and number of collected oocytes were similar, but HCV-seropositive women had statistically significantly fewer embryos available compared with controls. Embryo morphologic features, number of transferred embryos, and rates of implantation and pregnancy were similar for HCV-seropositive women and controls. CONCLUSION(S): When compared with matched uninfected controls, HCV-seropositive women display a decreased ovarian response.

Doesn't that just put the icing on the cake? I know, I should be grateful that they do IVF on hep C positive people. I know that. But as someone who is already diagnosed as a poor responder this kind of ratchets up the fear a bit - what if I go through all this, do the IVF and then have no response at all? And given that my last negative hep C test was the same month as my first IVF, I don't think that I could blame the previous poor responses on hep C.

Chitchats on the sofa

I had my second therapy session last night, and won't have another one for four whole weeks! Four weeks! The therapist is going to be away for 3 weeks, and I guess next week she's saving appointments for the really needy people. Not that she said that, but why else wouldn't she offer me a time slot? Aren't I needy enough?

Anyway, I have lots of homework, books to read, journals to write, thoughts to process, so it will actually give me an opportunity to see how well I do on this on my own, and whether I will need to go back for many more sessions after she is back in town.

As for whether I liked it any more, I don't know. I do feel a bit more positive about things, but is that due to the stuff I am doing, or due to her? Again, we didn't really get into any deep stuff. I wonder if part of that is my tendency to fill the time with any old fluff that comes out of my mouth so I can just prattle away any silent bits, or if she is waiting to pounce. Or maybe we'll never get into the really deep stuff? Not sure.

As for the relationship stuff, I said I was open to one, but that it was not my focus at the present time, and I think we successfully moved on from that. We talked about positive thinking, and seeing blessings in things, like trying to see that this is only a delay and the delay may bring me benefits such as giving me longer to get my body in good shape for the cycle, and get my mind in a more positive place.

She wants me to be doing positive affirmations and visualizations. She wants me to forgive myself for judging myself over past actions, to accept that we are where we are today and there's no point blaming myself for not starting trying to conceive earlier and various other things that I tend to blame myself for.

I also am going to try to start seeing the next cycle as my last one. But not in the way of saying to myself that it is the last one and that's it, finito, done, no more, but more in the sense of giving myself permission to stop after the next cycle. That I think I've done enough and tried hard enough with my own eggs, and that after the next cycle I will be at the stage where I won't be having any regrets of "if only I'd tried this or that". The therapist said I should also think about it being the last one because maybe it'll work. Well, duh. But I suppose with my incessant need to always have the next step planned out in my head, maybe I have not been allowing myself to believe that the cycle may actually work.

So, I dunno, I'm still sort of trying this because it's the one thing I haven't tried. You know, seeing if all that mind stuff really does make a difference. And maybe she'll keep me on the straight and narrow as far as not giving up on the relaxation and visualization exercises. But it's a very expensive pastime if I'm just going to have a genial chat once a week. Aren't I supposed to be feeling more like I need it? Or maybe I'm still in the phase of trying to impress her with my normalcy and am still hiding the bitterness. Oh well, we shall see what happens at the next appointment. In four weeks.