Posts Tagged ‘PIO’

Self-administered PIO

I figured I should do it tonight, even though the boy will be home in another few minutes, since he’ll be up in Boston for the next couple of nights.  Figured if I was going to need to go to an emergency room in the middle of the night with my shot in hand, or go, syringe in one hand & dog leash in the other, to beg a friend to take me in for the night and stab me in the ass at bedtime, I should know now so I could plan for the unbelievable hassle.  So I gritted my teeth, preparing for humiliating failure.  

And, um, administered the shot just like I’ve been self-administering shots for the last year.  Yeah, so the needle was a little longer.  It’s not like there’s not ample butt, these days, for it to go into.  Hell, it was a lot easier than my stupid Lovenox, which comes pre-filled with bubble-filled meds delivered via a dull needle and hurts like a sonovabitch while it’s oozing into me.

I’m almost embarrassed by having made such a ginormous fuss about the PIO.  Hell, I think I’m embarrassed by having made a fuss at all.

It was easy.

Didn’t hurt. 

Didn’t make me faint.  Or bleed.  Or fall over shrieking and foaming at the mouth.  (All of which, I more or less expected.)

Um, I can really be a big baby sometimes.

But I’m still going to make the boy help me when he’s at home.

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No news

In this case, I am assuming it’s good news.  My doctor was going to call if anything changed today, so I’m going to assume that all 4 little proto-sprogs are still alive.

First PIO shot tonight, and I started the pessaries last night.  Blech.  However, today also began my “pineapple for breakfast” week, so that’s a good thing.  And this is my last day on the massive dose of prednisone.  Which is good.  I’m feeling bloated enough as it is.  Almost all the post-retrieval crampiness/kidney soreness is mostly gone, just a bit in the morning that goes away once I’m up and in the shower. 

And I took an HPT this morning so I can track the trigger shot leaving my system.  I did that last time so I could verify when I was back to zero according to the internet-cheap tests.  That way, I can start obsessively testing in another 10 days or so without worrying that I’m reading the trigger shot.  It’s still a faint positive, so I’ll test again in another 3 days or so just to make sure it’s gone before it – I hope – goes up again.

And thank you to everyone who’s been commenting.  It makes me feel not nearly so alone, and not nearly so hopeless. 

New mantra:

It only takes one.
It only takes one.
It only takes one.

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Back from a wonderful long weekend at the boy’s parents’ country house in Connecticut. They were interested and supportive of pregnancy, I got a couple of sincere compliments from his mother, who told me that I’m looking ‘radiant’ these days. Since she’s not the type to mince words, I took it as a compliment indeed. Especially since I can really tell a difference around my belly.

Especially after the weekend, though most of the weekend’s change was food, not sprog.

We ate lobster. We ate a lot of lobster. Like 2 pounds, each. (20 hours later, I’m still nearly comatose with gastronomic bliss/protein overload) And butterflied leg o’ lamb (one of my faves.) And lots of cheese and crackers, and lots of yummy yummy things like BLTs and eggsalad. And now I’m eating lots and lots of dried apricots in an attempt to convince my poor progesterone-inflicted bowels that digestion is actually in their best interests.


And yes, I’ve pretty much decided that given my food preferences, my risk factor for listeria/salmonella/e.coli is pretty high, but then, so is the standard working level of my immune system, so I’m going to trust it’ll all work out in the end. I’m one of those people who never gets food poisoning at the company picnic, or has to worry if those leftovers in the fridge are slightly off, because my stomach of iron won’t react. So I’m having a hard time getting worked up about what I can & can’t eat. Actually, I’m being really good about avoiding mercury-fish like tuna or swordfish or other top of the foodchain critters. But the way I figure it is that if I’m going to get paranoid about everything I eat on the off chance I might get sick, I’m not going to be able to eat a thing. I mean, they just put cilantro on the don’t eat list, and a girl’s got to draw the line somewhere. So I’m officially not worrying too much.

Oh, and I went to the grocery store specifically so I could buy a pickle from the barrel they keep at the deli. Stereotypical, and probably not the most hygenic, but oh so satisfying!

I’m going to start photographically recording my expanding belly this week. Because I am a glutton for punishment. I also just bought a prenatal workout dvd on Amazon. Will report back on results of both the recording torture and the workout torture, even if the only results apparent are that the boy has a great opportunity to laugh at me every morning.

Let’s see, other things to report? The massive bruise/welt/blood blister from the PIO vein-nick of the other night is still pretty horrific – both in looks and in feels. Not sure if I’ll be brave enough to direct boy to use that injection site again tonight or not. I’m already nervous about Thursday & Friday, since boy will be out of the country and I will have to inject myself. I am a wimp, and not particularly limber, and I just have a feeling that it’s going to be awful. I’m dreading another bleeder. Can’t wait to be done with these.

And despite (or maybe because of) sleeping for almost 10 hours a night both Friday and Saturday night, I managed to have a couple of hellacious pg related dreams. Well, last night’s was more of a PIO related dream. Just a pure anxiety dream about getting to the pharmacy in time to refill my prescription, before they closed but after work, and whether I’d be able to, and what the supposed equivalent of pessaries would be if I couldn’t get there in time on Tuesday, would I be stuffing, like 35 of those damned little blue pills up inside me, is that even possible? and maybe I could get to the pharmacy tomorrow morning instead, and what if I shatter the vial I’m finishing up right now – I don’t even have a pharmacy that’s open on Sunday to get an emergency dose for tonight, and maybe…


Hoping for no dreams tonight. And a clear shot to the pharmacy in the morning, so I can put that fear to rest.

The main reason I’m looking forward to my last RE appointment is that I’ll be able to bring in my gigantic shopping bag full of needles, empty ampules, and other drug paraphrenalia and hand it over to the safe-disposal gals in the lab. Looking forward to having my bathroom back!

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So I had my first truly unpleasant PIO experience tonight. I’ve been coping with a bit of a bad reaction anyway – developing allergic reaction, I think – that’s merely annoying. Red, itchy welts around the injection sites, but no big deal. So we’ve been religiously switching sides to keep the irritation to a minimum.

Tonight, when the best man-nurse in the world started to give me my nightly jab, it felt like fire being injected into me (or the damned anesthetic they used during my retrieval, come to that). So I shrieked, “Stop! Stop! Something’s wrong! Take it out!” And he did, and blood went everywhere. Ew.

(I’ll confess here – and only here – that my first, horribly unworthy thought was to wonder if eldest daughter found my meds stash and added something, like you know, Drano, to the vial. But I digress.)

So, after I reassured the boy that I would survive, and we cleaned up the just-changed sheets that got soiled, and after I grabbed a bite of dinner after my late night at work, I went into the bathroom to perform my nightly ablutions, thinking about nothing more complicated than what I was going to read before bed tonight. And there, with my panties around my ankles, I nearly died of a heart attack. Blood. Blood filling up the pantyliner I’ve been wearing to help contain the pessary-leakage. and my brain hollering: Ohmygodi’mhavingamiscarriage. Ohmygodohmygodohmygod.

Until the, um, obvious answer finally dawned on my dim brain. This was from the stab wound, not anything more dire than that. I just bled way more than I thought I did, and something about the way I was lying when he gave me the shot just sort of funneled the blood into the most absorbent thing nearby. And yes, I immediately wiped frantically and confirmed that this was blood from the outside, not the inside.

But my heart’s still beating way too damned hard.

And my ass still hurts from whatever caused that track of fire feeling. Sciatic nerve or blood vessel? I’m taking bets here! Off to research!

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…that not a damned thing is going on with me.

Still floating on the “perfectly normal pregnancy” news from Tuesday. I even went to a grotesquely overpriced baby boutique in the neighborhood to inquire about the adorable onesie in the window.

Yes, it was way overpriced. No I didn’t buy it anyway. Yes, I’m still thinking about it.

No real symptoms, not even any weight gain, despite my indulgence in sweets yesterday (damn the bowl of chocolate some evil co-worker left in the break room!) Not complaining, mind you. It would have been upsetting if I were the only one in my family to suffer from morning sickness. I’m just as happy to be avoiding that. Tired all the time, but that’s sort of my normal state of being in a coffee-free world. Hungry all the time, too, but again, that’s just sort of me. Not sure the raspberry-sized sprog can claim credit for that one either.

And starting to get eager about getting past another milestone or two. Looking forward to that 12-week-mark like nobody’s business. End of PIO shots (which are really starting to irritate my poor abused sit-upon, both the injection site itself, and the bandaids I’ve been using. Must go find some latex-free ones…), not to mention, the end of nasty vaginal suppositories that make me feel like a leaky Easter Egg. The first day I am not required to put anything sharp or pastel-colored anywhere near my nether region is going to be a very very good day in my world.

And I guess one of these days, I’ll have to start hunting around for a midwife or OB/GYN. My RE is likely to discharge me one of these days, I’d think. I’ll have another US on Tuesday, which might be fun. I’ll even see if the boyfriend wants to come along & see a heartbeat.

As far as eventual delivery-plans go, I’d prefer a midwife, but am not sure if they’d welcome an AMA-patient like me. God – when did 38 get to feeling so old? Um, when I decided to have a baby at 38, I suppose.

39, actually, by the time Sprog is born. Dang.

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