…in fact, it’s not all that exciting anymore. No, that’s not true. I’m getting the jitters when it’s almost time to do it, just because it’s fun to be doing SOMETHING active instead of sitting around and moping that I’m alone and childless. But this sub-q injection thing? Easy-peasy. Even at four a day. My mother thinks I’m some kind of long-suffering heroine. That’s not it, though. I’m just desperate, next mother’s day, to have something to celebrate besides my own, wonderful mother.
So my first four-shot day is over, and the boyfriend is on the other side of the country at a writing workshop. I’m missing him rather a lot. It was totally my decision to go ahead with IVF this month, even knowing he’d be away for a good bit of it. I don’t regret that, and I certainly wouldn’t have wanted him to give up going to this. But I miss him. I’d rather he was here; even though he doesn’t like to watch or even think about what I’m doing in the bathroom morning and night, it’s still good to know he’s up for dispensing a bit of sympathy if I need it.
Walked around a lot today, in search of Galapagos clothing. My leg really seems to have recovered almost entirely, which is amazing to me. This time last week I was in serious pain when I tried to walk on it, it just wouldn’t respond but seized up. I was honestly certain I’d be hobbling for weeks at least. But it’s better. My body is my own again, and I’m having a hard time remembering to be gentle to it. No jogging across the street. No super-shaking stretches as I lie in bed in the morning. (which I miss). But it was good to be reminded that no matter how much I occaisionally feel that my body has betrayed me, it’s still a pretty amazing little animal I live within.
And, optimist that I am, I ordered a swim suit online. Of course, I spent far more on the cover-up than I will on the suit, but that’s only right since I fully intend to cover up my bruised, lumpy IVF body when I’m around anyone who isn’t Sam. Unless of course I’m boogie boarding. Which I suppose is a game that’s probably not happening this summer. If I catch this egg.
Tried to eat a focaccia at a Williamsburg bakery, but it was nasty and dry – I threw it out. Got out of Macy’s at about 4 & tried a pretzel, which was stale – threw it out. Got home, ate chicken pot pie and brownies. The more brownies. Argh. Brownies are my nemesis. Or at least the nemesis of my diet. Same thing, sort of.
Injection site bled today, and the lupron spot I picked hurt more than it has before. I did, however, use the mixing-tips that the pharm. company included, to good effect. I’ll certainly do that tomorrow as well to simplify the 6-amp brazelle mixing protocol that took well over 10 minutes this morning. I’m going to have to get up earlier in the morning for this on work days, though, since I’m working late tomorrow and Thursday, and going in at 10 on Tuesday and Wednesday, it’s not as dire as I’m making it sound.
And I called my mother and got to talk to my grandma, and my Aunt Mary, who apparently know all about what I’m going through. I knew when I told my mom that she’d immediately tell her family, but I didn’t realize she’d tell them so quickly. But my aunt was remarkably kind, nearly brought me to tears. Grandma sounded a little confused, but also offered her best wishes and prayers. Hell, I’m even accepting prayers from the crazy dude at work who claims to have a direct line to god’s ear at 9:30 each night. “Watch for something good to happen to you, health-wise,” he says. “You’re a good person, my friend. A good worker. God wants you to be happy.”
From his crazy-talkin’ mouth to G-d’s ear, I guess.
Off to watch Buffy.
Here’s hoping for a more celebratory Mother’s Day next year.