Archive for January, 2009

1.  Pussy willows.  I have a vase of them on our giant kitchen table.  Hoping some of them sprout so I can try to plant them.  I adore pussy willows.  Always have, even when I lived in the desert and had never actually SEEN them.  Here in NYC, they’re a rite of spring – everyone seems to buy them for the house in February or March.  I found some early this year & decided I needed an early spring.  Who doesn’t, every so often?

2  The Brooklyn Botanical Garden.   One of the coolest places in the city.  I go there a lot when I have the time.  I’m hoping – rather desperately – to bring a child there almost every day in the spring & summer of next year.  That place is the focus of most of my “when I am a mommy” daydreams.  Walking down the cherry promenade with a Sprog in a stroller.  That real-life snapshot is one that I covet desperately, but the great-big-gaping-hole that it leaves in my mental photo album doesn’t spoil the fact that I love the Gardens.

3.  The last day of the month.  I don’t know why, but the last day of the month always seems to be full of possibilities.  Well, that and bill-paying…

4.  Tricking a shy kid into talking to me.  Having been a shy kid at one time, and still feeling like a shy kid most of the time, I have a lot of sympathy for the toe-starers and lip-biters among us.  It’s a lot of fun when I can watch a kid realize that there’s nothing to worry about with me, that I won’t make fun of them, and that I just might be able to help them.  It’s the reason I became a librarian, and it’s a good day when it happens.

5.  I love watching bad tv & movies with my husband.  He’s fun to be snarky with, he doesn’t mind if I’m not in a mood to take anything seriously, and when we’re alone we can riff off of stupid movie for hours, getting progressively sillier as we go.  It’s a Samurai movie on the bill for tonight.  Woohoo!

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NOT having my ovaries checked for rampant runawaywithism.  *sigh*  Here’s hoping that things stay mellow in there today.  A bit of growth, but not too much.  I also realized that if he continues me on for a trigger shot on Monday, I won’t have enough Bravelle for my early AM shot.  If I’d gone in today, I could have raised this issue in a calm manner, but as it is, I’ll have to get all panicky on their asses.  Serve Dr. Bigshot right…


Let’s see, Hmmm, non “Sprogblogger is so pissed off” news…  Well, we went to my stepdaughter’s dance recital last night and, as always at these things, was more than a little impressed.  Realize that my husband habitually refers to me as the clumsiest woman alive, and I almost deserve the title.  Grace has never been a strong point.  But these young people were graceful.  And my stepdaughter was spectacular. 

Plus my in-laws took us out for dinner right before and I ordered the best Eggplant Parmagiano I’ve ever had.  Really yummy.  And we had a chance to bond when the boy had to run home looking for the tickets.  Mom was inclined to be irritated with him for “not thinking about anything but that book” and I felt compelled to step in and remind her gently that his real livelihood – ie: the stock market – is collapsing, along with any sort of financial stability he’s built up through his entire working life.  He’s distracted, yes, but it’s not because he’s trying to figure out what the talking seals are going to say next.

I think she was pleased to hear me defend him.  I really really like her, but I’m somewhat in awe of her, as well.  She is everything that I am not – elegant, the perfect hostess (think Martha Stewart’s mom & you’re just about there).  But even though she’s been living the life of a NY WASP for the last 50 years, she’s from West Virginia, and it’s those values and reactions that shaped her life.  She’s kind.  She’s hospitable.  She’s a lot of fun to be around.  

Which is good, because after my doctor appointment tomorrow, we’re going shopping for stainless flatware – a wedding gift from her to us (to me, actually, since the boy couldn’t care less.)  Plus another chance to bond.  *gulp*  I hope I don’t spill my soup or anything…

Now, I’m off to work, where I shall be helpful and accommodating to even our most unreasonable customers.  Oh yeah, and I’ll also be analyzing every lower abdominal twinge and gurgle.  Sort of like I’ll be doing in another week only with even less cause.  

Wish me – and my enthusiastic ovaries – luck.

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Have I mentioned before how much I hate Dr. Bigshot?  Excuse me while I rant.

I just got a call from the tech telling me that they want me to stay on the 6 vials of Bravelle and the 1/2 dose of Antagon, but they want to up my dose of Menopur to 3 vials.  Which tells me that perhaps even the half-dose of Antagon slowed things down a bit more than they’d thought it would.  Ok, fine, glad they’re on top of it, etc.  Only thing is, Dr. Bigshot doesn’t want to see me until Sunday.  (And it will be Dr. Bigshot, she warned me.)

So tomorrow, I’m flying blind and hoping that this cycle doesn’t get entirely cocked up because he’s too bloody arrogant to deal with one more Saturday appointment.  Nevermind that I haven’t responded the way they’ve thought to ANY of the meds.  Nevermind that my doc has been watching me like a bloody hawk because of this, keeping me on an every-day-schedule since Tuesday.  No, Dr. Bigshot is going to skip a day – on the day he changes my meds.

I swear to dog, if this cycle goes overboard because of him I’m going to raise a stink you should be able to smell all the way across the country.  

Only good thing is that even if my retrieval happens on Tuesday, which is my doc’s day off, he’ll still be in the building and the nurse was pretty positive he’d still be doing my retrieval.  

Assuming I get to have a retrieval.  Assuming everything didn’t just take a turn for the rotten.

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1.  Saw a starling flying around, carrying a long string of spaghetti.  Don’t know why, but it made me smile.

2.  Even though I got wanded by Dr. Bigshot today (for which I am not grateful at all,) my doctor will be calling me later with the bloodwork results.  He caught me in the hallway to tell me that he’d been thinking of me.  “Well, yeah,” I did not say.  “That’s because I see more of you these days than I do my husband.”  

3.  My husband awakened me several times last night by elbowing me in the kidneys.  He claimed I was snoring, but I happen to know it was the dog since I was wide awake (from his last elbowing) a couple of times.  I’m rather grateful though that a) the dog – annoying though her new favorite throat-to-throat sleeping position is – was keeping me warm and mammal-happy last night.  b) the boy thinks it’s funny, rather than disgusting, when I do snore.  c) he didn’t elbow me a bit lower – say at ovary-level.  Because then I might have had to kill him.

4.  I realized today that I’m grateful that IVF has made me so much more aware of my body.  Meaning that I can really tell a difference when I’m pumped up on hormones – it affects my mood and my perception of the world something fierce.  It’s also made me more sympathetic to women I’ve known in the past who seem to spend all their time either dreading or dealing with PMS/menstrual cramps, etc.  I’m grateful that the girl-stuff doesn’t hit me that hard, but I’m also grateful to have a glimpse (a tiny glimpse only, please!) into what other women deal with on a monthly basis.  In my ongoing quest to not be quite such a bitch, it’s a helpful reminder.  

5.  The bluejays that frequent our teeny tiny backyard.  And the squirrel.  And the occasional cardinal who drops by for a snack.   Having grown up in the desert, I feel a certain affinity for critters who survive in inhospitable places.  And so – squirrels and birds making a living out of the measly backyard pickings in downtown Brooklyn, NY — I salute you!

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I had to submit to a wanding by Dr. Bigshot, who came into the room hollering at his nurse – who happens to be an exceedingly efficient woman – and generally making a nuisance of himself.  She apologized profusely for him, and I just felt badly for her.  

Nah, that’s not true – I felt badly for myself, too.  He’s rough with that damned wand, and he keeps my heels hiked up to my ass, and he doesn’t even turn the US screen so I can see.  He did grudgingly admit that I’m responding well to the stims, though, and said I’d be HCG’ing on Sunday or Monday for a Tuesday or Wednesday retrieval.  So that’s good.  I probably won’t even have to buy a few make-up doses of Bravelle.  

But, every time I go to the clinic, now, Dr. Bigshot is yelling at someone, or the receptionists are rolling their eyes and whispering about how Dr. Bigshot didn’t like their coffee mugs, for heavens’ sake.  

Now.  I’ve noticed that I’ve had the place all to myself recently.  When I asked, I was told that January is always a slow month at clinics, since people are recovering from the holidays, etc.  I wonder, though, if the economic downturn is more to blame.  I wonder if Dr. Bigshot is feeling a bit of economic stress – either personal or professional – and is taking it out on his staff (and on those of us patients who are not enamored of his reputation).  Whatever it is, I wish he’d get off it & go into his office and hide out for a while until he can be civil and calm.  Daily dildo-camming appointments suck hard enough that I’d rather not have to deal with a doctor’s angst on top of my own.  Not to mention the fact that all of my veins are now giving up the ghost and bruising when a tech so much as looks at them.  Ouch.  

My jeans are tight, despite having walked nearly 6 miles yesterday, and I’m bloating something terrible.  Not only that, but since we’ll be going to stepdaughter’s dance performance tonight, I’ll be administering my injection & a half in a public-restroom again.  Joy.  Maybe one of her classmates can glimpse me shooting up in the school potty & report back to her.  Oh blech.  

However, I’m feeling really good about this cycle.  I don’t want to have to deal with frozen embryos, but I really really want a chance to go to a 5 day transfer.  So, of course, I spent yesterday’s google-waste-of-time looking up success rate comparisons between 3 & 5 day transfers.  I’ve done the 8-celled embryo transfer – Baby, I want a blastocyst!  (Or two.  Or three.)

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Sure enough…

…I’m supposed to take 1/2 an antagon dose tonight, and see my RE in the morning.   *sigh*  Nice man, as I think I’ve mentioned, but I’m getting tired of starting every day off in the stirrups. 

But at least I have tomorrow off work, so I can concentrate on important stuff like googling ganerelix (or whatever my new med. is called) to find out what disgusting substance it’s made of. 

Maybe I’ll write a poem. 

Maybe I’ll read some poems.

Or maybe I’ll finally get inspired enough to finish messing with my header.  Or at least to make a few alternate headers.  Because I am a geek and it’s a shame to let all that computer schooling go to waste.

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But it looks like everything is progressing as it should.  My RE keeps muttering “five more days, just give us five more days”, so I guess we’re looking at a Monday or Tuesday retrieval date.  He doesn’t want to give me more than 3 antagon doses, but he said something about doing a half-dose today & then nothing tomorrow?  Much more exciting than my previous protocols! 

But he won’t be in over the weekend, so for the trickeist part of this protocol, Dr. Bigshot will be in charge of calling the shots.  I’m not excited about that.  Not at all. 

Though at least it means that my doc will likely be the doc-in-charge for retrieval and transfer, so that’s good. 

More info once they call with today’s results.

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