Despite assurances to the contrary, my doctor wasn’t the one who saw me at the clinic this morning. Instead it was Dr. Bigshot. Who was his usual assholish self. And who couldn’t/wouldn’t answer any of my questions about results from the pathology work-up after my D&C almost 2 months ago. And who only bothered to measure one of the follicles that he found. (7mm.) I just feel very strongly that he couldn’t care less about me, about what I’m going through, and that he’s already given me up as a bad risk and so will take as little time/care with me as he can get away with. Have I mentioned that I dislike this man, and I’m pretty sure the feeling’s mutual?
I’ve got an appointment to speak with my doctor by phone this afternoon. So maybe I can at least get some straight talking, and some goddamned answers.
Having to deal with Dr. Bigshot was bad enough, but the really bad news is that he only found 3 or 4 follicles during the US. Granted, he doesn’t seem to be the best “wander” in the world, but since I’ve been on the strongest stim dosages possible for 5 days, if there were more follicles to be seen, I think he’d’ve glimpsed them. I asked if they were going to cancel this cycle, and he said that they don’t cancel cycles where the patient is already on maximum meds.
So I’m trying to steel myself for the disappointment of this being a complete bummer of a cycle. ie: not enough good eggs retrieved, or nothing that survives fertilization or culturing in vitro, or nothing that makes it to implantation.
Feeling very very hopeless and alone today. The boy cares that I am upset, of course, but he really doesn’t understand. He already has children – and a life he loves, doing what he loves, in the place that he loves. I’m lucky to have him in my life, I adore him. But the difference between us is that I’ve gambled everything in my professional and personal life in order to come to this horrid city, to work a job I never wanted, in order to try to have a family with him, and it’s just not happening for me. Too bad, I lose. And it feels like the ongoing disappointment is destroying the best part of me. There are days when the weight of all of this fucking useless grief and misery just seems unbearable, and I look around me and wonder how many other people are carrying this sort of despair around. I’m not sure I can do it. I don’t think I’m strong enough.
It’s my birthday this week, I’m turning 39. 6 months ago, on a lower dose of stims, I was able to produce 12 eggs pretty handily. More than half fertilized, and four made it to implantation. One pregnancy, one miscarriage, and one D&C later, my body can only produce 4 eggs. At this rate, I might get one embryo to transfer, but it’s pretty crappy chances, since only one of the four transfered last time made it to a positive beta test.
I need to start thinking in terms of donor eggs, and all of the advantages therein. I could choose a donor with curly hair! I could choose a donor in her early twenties so that we could make lots & lots of embryos to freeze in case the next time doesn’t work! Maybe we could find a donor who is prettier than I am and smarter too! All the genetic advantages for my sprog, and damn the cost! I really wanted to make my own baby, though. I wished to be able to see myself and my parents and grandparents and my brother and cousins in my child, selfish though I know that wish to be. I wanted to pass on some of my physical and genetic self as well as whatever of my beliefs and ways of dealing with the world that a child of mine is going to absorb. And it’s not the end of the world that it looks like that simply cannot happen for me, but I think I need a little bit of time to mourn this loss, on top of so many others.
Crappy day, and now I get to go in to work until 8.
Goddamnit, I miss my unadulterated DHEA high. I could use a boost of artificial happiness right now.