Yesterday, I got to learn to use the big shot drugs, Gonal F, so I drug my husband with me. Also, we were going to meet some friends for a picnic on their sailboat that afternoon, and the doctor is kind of on the way.
"Every time we go to the doctor, we go on the boat!" He even sounded happy about it.
"No. Every time you go go the doctor, we go on the boat. I go to the doctor all the fucking time."
The last time he came with me was a May 15 IUI, and then, yes, we went on the boat. Other than that, he also showed up for the March IUI. Missing from his list is five million scans, eight doctor appointments, blood draws, three different pharmacies, and the two canceled IUI schedules. I feel like I go to this awful place all the time, not the boat. Must be nice.
Wednesday, July 30, 2014
Monday, July 28, 2014
Conflicts of Interests and just Not Interested
Last cycle was full of hope. I went in for my second scan and the nurse said it all looked great. She gave me an $85 Ovidrel injection and scheduled an IUI for the next day, Saturday morning.
Then I got home and looked at the results. She didn't bother to actually show me, but the clinic has a website where you can log on and see all your lab results and your complicated medicine instructions, things like that. She had lied. It didn't look great.
I only have one tube, which should have been obvious to anyone looking at my chart, and I was ovulating on the wrong side. I called the nurse's line (no one ever answers the phone so I left a message) asking about the IUI on Saturday. No one bothered to call me back until 4PM. This was a different nurse I hadn't talked to before, and she seemed pretty pissed about all the after hours scheduling that was now screwed up. She made a joke that we could have sex now. Gee, thanks.
I don't expect anyone to actually know my name or give a shit about my treatment, but I do expect the bare minimum of reading my chart before giving me painful injections and getting my hopes up.
Eighteen hours later, doubled over the toilet with medically induced ovulation pain of six sacs bursting simultaneously, I realized for the first time that I did not have the same goals as the clinic. For the first time, I realized it was in their best financial interests to keep me going on these bullshit IUIs. It makes them more money the more scans this takes, the more cycles it takes. If it works, I'm no longer a customer.
Then I got home and looked at the results. She didn't bother to actually show me, but the clinic has a website where you can log on and see all your lab results and your complicated medicine instructions, things like that. She had lied. It didn't look great.
I only have one tube, which should have been obvious to anyone looking at my chart, and I was ovulating on the wrong side. I called the nurse's line (no one ever answers the phone so I left a message) asking about the IUI on Saturday. No one bothered to call me back until 4PM. This was a different nurse I hadn't talked to before, and she seemed pretty pissed about all the after hours scheduling that was now screwed up. She made a joke that we could have sex now. Gee, thanks.
I don't expect anyone to actually know my name or give a shit about my treatment, but I do expect the bare minimum of reading my chart before giving me painful injections and getting my hopes up.
Eighteen hours later, doubled over the toilet with medically induced ovulation pain of six sacs bursting simultaneously, I realized for the first time that I did not have the same goals as the clinic. For the first time, I realized it was in their best financial interests to keep me going on these bullshit IUIs. It makes them more money the more scans this takes, the more cycles it takes. If it works, I'm no longer a customer.
Sunday, July 27, 2014
A Family Wedding
This weekend was a family wedding. My husband's family is huge and gossipy. Everyone there was either pregnant, had two kids under two, or both.
Mercifully, I only got one question about my surely imminent pregnancy. Bittersweet. The fact that no one asked me leads me to think that maybe the word of sad, to be pitied, (did you hear?) situation has been spread.
A few months ago, I vaguely told one of the more gossipy members with the promise that she would keep it secret. I couldn't deal with the questions anymore, and the only way to keep any privacy was to completely lose all my privacy. So, now I guess the whole family knows my shame. Maybe they were gossiping about it all night. I'm not sure. But at least they weren't asking me about it.
Mercifully, I only got one question about my surely imminent pregnancy. Bittersweet. The fact that no one asked me leads me to think that maybe the word of sad, to be pitied, (did you hear?) situation has been spread.
A few months ago, I vaguely told one of the more gossipy members with the promise that she would keep it secret. I couldn't deal with the questions anymore, and the only way to keep any privacy was to completely lose all my privacy. So, now I guess the whole family knows my shame. Maybe they were gossiping about it all night. I'm not sure. But at least they weren't asking me about it.
Wednesday, July 23, 2014
Running Out of Time
Next month will be August, and then I will be turning 32. Thirty freaking two. I have been at this since I was 29. And now everyone else has blown past me.
Everyone has their two babies on Facebook, everyone has already done this when they were supposed to. Why did I wait so long? Why didn't I do this when I had the time and the money and was just too selfish to give up my lifestyle? I was so arrogant to think everything would go fine when I finally got around to it. And 29 is no big deal right?
I am running out of time. I will be 32. I feel like I have been at this forever. And I don't have forever.
Everyone has their two babies on Facebook, everyone has already done this when they were supposed to. Why did I wait so long? Why didn't I do this when I had the time and the money and was just too selfish to give up my lifestyle? I was so arrogant to think everything would go fine when I finally got around to it. And 29 is no big deal right?
I am running out of time. I will be 32. I feel like I have been at this forever. And I don't have forever.
Friday, July 18, 2014
I'm not OK
More shots. More scans. Another trip to the doctor. But mostly I just feel alone. I screamed in my car when I left. I don't have anyone to call. Nobody fucking gets it. Even my one friend who went through this just dropped off the planet.
What I want more than anything is someone just to call or text or email or something to ask me if I'm OK. Because I'm not OK. I'm not OK. I'm in so much pain, and it shows no sign of stopping. I keep fucking up all of the cycles, and I don't know if this is ever going to work. I feel like I'm in a constant state of grief. And no one even calls to see if I'm fucking OK.
I'm not OK. My own fucking sister called to get something from me and I tried to reach out to her. She wanted to talk about numbers and statistics about the science, oh and that thing she needs. I'm not OK.
A good friend didn't even respond to the text that I was having a rough time. I'm not OK. I'm doubled over in physical and emotional pain and no one gives a shit. I am so alone, and I'm not OK.
What I want more than anything is someone just to call or text or email or something to ask me if I'm OK. Because I'm not OK. I'm not OK. I'm in so much pain, and it shows no sign of stopping. I keep fucking up all of the cycles, and I don't know if this is ever going to work. I feel like I'm in a constant state of grief. And no one even calls to see if I'm fucking OK.
I'm not OK. My own fucking sister called to get something from me and I tried to reach out to her. She wanted to talk about numbers and statistics about the science, oh and that thing she needs. I'm not OK.
A good friend didn't even respond to the text that I was having a rough time. I'm not OK. I'm doubled over in physical and emotional pain and no one gives a shit. I am so alone, and I'm not OK.
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