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Posts Tagged ‘WFC’

The boy’s on his way to Calgary.

My cycle started at about 10 this morning, just after the time I might have considered going into the clinic & claiming, “No, really, it started last night…”

Good news is, of course, that it DID arrive, because I’d be beyond pissed if it started on, say, Saturday, when I’d’ve been fine waiting til Monday to go in.  

So I’ll go in tomorrow, and probably start Lupron & the orals tomorrow night.  Glad to be moving forward on this, even though it’s a major inconvenience right now.

Goddamnit.

So I went to work today, and will go to work again on Friday and again on Saturday.  And I get to pull a Saturday shift NEXT weekend too, to pay for the privilege of having been away this weekend.

Goddamnit.

Nellie, on the other hand, is absolutely delighted that she won’t have to survive on her own wits for the rest of her life.  She’s been alone in the house since, 2:00 – an entire 4 hours – and she was quite sure that she was going to be eaten by wolves or something.  Interestingly enough, nothing seems to have been damaged.  However, it’s still early days since she is currently rushing around the house, thrilled not to be alone.  And that’s after her walk.  Wish I had so much energy.  

The kennel I was going to board her at charged me for a full day, which is a cancellation fee I can understand; but they also charged me an extra $5 that they charge for the inconvenience of having an unspayed female in the kennel.  Which I’d’ve been happy to pay if she’d been there, but to charge me the “extra inconvenience” fee for a dog who isn’t there struck me as venal in the extreme.  I’m not sure we’ll go there.  There are cheaper kennels, even in this outrageously expensive city.

On the grimmer side, an acquaintance at work warned all of us quietly that he heard from friends that the Bloods were planning a rampage tomorrow night.  A rampage against – guess who? – women.  31 random women.  His info has tended to be good in the past, and his connections are the real thing, so I’ll likely take him seriously and lay sort of low tomorrow night.  God I hate this city.  Hate the battle-mentality.  Hate even having to think of curtailing my activities because of this sort of fear.   

And now I’m off to console myself with an order of takeout PadThai, which is one of the reasons I love this city.  Good takeout just about on every street corner.  Yum.

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*sigh*  This is my life.  And the worst of it is that if I don’t get to go to Calgary, I’ll have to go to work.  So instead of flying to a foreign country, meeting up with interesting people I haven’t seen in a year or so, instead of being all dreamy and romantic with the boy (since this is, to all intents and purposes, the event where we first met,) I’ll be packing a pb&j & getting on the subway on Friday to put in another day at work.

Talk about a bummer.

Because it’s not like I can just stay home for my scheduled days off, (which opportunity I’d kind of jump at) because this was to be a work-sanctioned/sponsored conference, so I was being paid to attend.  So I’ll need to go in, if I don’t fly out.

Talk about a bummer.

On the happier side, the billing specialist at the clinic called to tell me that my insurance is covering this IVF attempt, which is good news, anyway.  Especially since I’m never going to see my fairly pricey plane fare again, damnit.

Come on innards – cooperate for a change!

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Argh.

Have I mentioned before how no matter how much I like my doctor, his receptionists aren’t the best or the brightest?  Received a phone message yesterday that my appointment today was getting pushed back because of all the transfers/retrievals, so could we reschedule?  Ok, that’s understandable; even I wouldn’t claim that my consultation appointment trumps anything that’s on a time-schedule.  But since I specifically scheduled it for today since I had the day off & my sick days aren’t cutting the IVF mustard anymore, I needed to reschedule for later on today.  So I called to tell them so.  Only their phones weren’t picking up, just the emergency service.  

An hour before my appointment I finally reached them, and they denied there had been a phone problem.  Ok.  Whatever.  So when should I come in?  “12:30.”  Fine.

Which I did.  And there I sat until 1:30, at which point I asked how much longer would it be?  “At least 45 minutes more.”  Um, what the fuck?  So I ranted, raved, generally acted like a bitch before sitting down to wait some more.  Wouldn’t you know it, not five minutes later, they found time to squeeze me in.  Sorry, I know my doctor is an important, busy guy, but either they need to learn how to schedule him better, or they need to hire him an assistant to deal with the consultation part of it, or they need to not take on so many new patients or something. I do, actually, have a life outside of this clinic, and I would really appreciate it if they wouldn’t assume that this is the only thing in my life.

(Well, ok, it sort of is – in my own brain at least, IVF/pregnancy/child-prospects are running a little hamster-loop about 23 out of every 24 hours).  But I’m busy and important too, damnit!

But I had my consultation.  He asked how I was feeling, healing, etc.  Still no pathology report back from the surgery, but he’s not really expecting anything bad, so I won’t worry.  He wants to do another HSN next week to make sure everything’s cleaned up in there.  Which makes sense.  He seemed to want to tell me that DHEA is good for me, and rehashed the oft-repeated comment regarding the remarkable number of women who conceive “spontaneously” whilst on DHEA, waiting for a new cycle to begin.  

A) Excuse me while I snort derisively.  Which is to say, “Hah.  Funny one, Doc.”

B) Really ready to not be on DHEA any longer than necessary – certainly not based on anecdotal evidence regarding a slightly increased chance of what amounts to a miracle at this rate.  Zits and thinning hair, not to mention the increased risk for just about everything deadly.  Coming back to the teen-look, at this rate, I’m going to have to use artificial tech to get pregnant, simply because my husband won’t want to touch me.  Ok.  Exaggerating, but it’s still annoying.  And can’t be good for me, long-term.

Nevertheless, my doctor said he did want to wait another cycle, not jump on this next one.  *sigh*  Which would make my upcoming a beginning of December cycle.  Which would mean that traveling for Thanksgiving would be out of the question.  I expressed some disappointment about canceling (nonexistent as of yet) travel plans, and he said he’d see what he could do.  

When the nurse came to talk to me, she seemed to think that as long as next week’s HSN comes out normal, that we’ll start a cycle this month (well, beginning of November).  Making me think that in the weird world that is Manhattan, travel plans are more important than a deep and abiding urge to start trying for the one-thing-that-I-want-more-than-anything-in-the-world obsession.  Am I really unusually impatient, or is that strange?  Or did he just take pity on my upcoming birthday-angst?  Or did his receptionist beg him subliminally to get me the hell out of there as soon as he can, one way or another?  Needless to say, I’m happy that it looks like we’re back to the original schedule.  Also, it sounds like the nurse is the one who is going to be dealing with my insurance co. re: the injectables next time, not me, so a big “Woohoo” for that.  It sounds like he’s upping my meds this time, though.  Yikes.  I thought I was already on the outside edge, what with the 6 vials of Bravelle at a time & all.  

Of course, with my luck, the reward for my stubbornness will just mean that I have to bail on the WFC trip over Halloween.  Because it’s just that sort of thing that happens to me.  You know what, though?  I’d rather get started a month earlier on this next round than go to Calgary and see old friends and schmooze with editors, if it comes to that.  

If I were truly lucky, I’d manage to make a baby the old-fashioned way this month.  I hear that if you really want it, if you just relax &/or keep your hips elevated, it’s possible to get pregnant without medical intervention.  It helps if you happen to be a Republican, Evangelical high-schooler hooking up with someone who publicly states that he doesn’t want to be a father.  *sigh*  I guess I’m out of the running on all of those counts, too.  I guess God just doesn’t want me to be a mother.  

Sorry.  That was bitter.  It’s why I’m trying not to think too much about my sitch these days.  It makes me feel bitter. Bitter as soon-to-be-proscribed coffee grounds.  Bitter as bile from the nausea-inducing hormonal cocktail.  Bitter as a pint o’Guinness, drunk warm and foamy.

Hmmm.  Guinness sounds good right now.  Going to go take advantage of my non-pregnant state of being and bring one home for tonight.  Maybe with an espresso chaser.  Vomiting can’t be far off.  And on that happy note…

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Hey hey hey…

…and it looks like my cycle is back on track, which is a relief.  I’m planning on (listen up, Universe, and have yourself a good laugh) going to the World Fantasy Convention at the end of October, but I still wanted to start a new IVF cycle at the beginning of my next menstrual cycle.  So the timing, what with being out of the country for four days near the beginning of my cycle, would have been tricky.  

Still might be, but I tend to be pretty regular, even with all the weirdness in my innards lately.  Hell, even my miscarriage happened on a day my period would have started if I hadn’t been, um, pregnant.  I have a consultation appointment with the good doctor tomorrow, to get going on cycle #2, and I’m hoping he is pleased with my recovery & gives me the go-ahead for a new cycle.  Have to admit, I’m also eager to be done with the DHEA.  Hair loss is noticeable in the shower but, (I hope) not noticeable on my scalp.  Bad skin is definitely noticeable, though seriously aggressive cleaning (we’re talking rubdowns with rubbing alcohol) is keeping the worst of it in check.  My mood’s been good – yay for testosterone? – and my energy level’s been great.  I like that bit.  But if this cycle doesn’t work out, I’ll be going the DE route next time, so won’t need the egg-drugs next time.  Personally though, I’m hoping for a DHEA spontaneous this month.  

Though that might just be an excuse to have lots & lots of newlywed sex.

Like I need that excuse.

So we’re back home, and husband (!) is watching the market situation; I’m trying to avoid watching the market situation.  We’re both getting some writing done.  Dog is catching up on some much-needed sleep.  (Hah.  She’s not a dog, she’s an amoeba.  A sleepy amoeba.)  And I might make enchiladas for the youngest child.  And clean my desk.  Maybe do a bit of cross-stitch and/or looking for fabric for the new quilt that will be husband’s belated wedding gift.  It’s a day filled with possibilities.

Seriously.

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