Archive for the ‘Random’ Category

Beeker on the Brain


   

It’s almost 1:00 on a Saturday. The day to get stuff done, buy stuff, clean stuff, and complete stuff. So far all I have done is show the unannounced roofer where the leaks were in my ceiling. In my pajamas. Lucky him.  

"My first job today, the girl answered the door in her pajamas! Doh!"

I have seriously wasted half of my day looking for a physical copy of a book on writing training materials. I want it NOW. I have a project that I am working on for work, and although I have a plan and have started research, I thought it would be nice to have a guide. With the exception of ordering online, I cannot find a book ANYWHERE on writing training manuals, writing course materials, etc? The books in the stores get as specific as how to negotiate buying a car at 2:34 in the afternoon on a Tuesday, but they snub the person trying to develop something as common as a textbook or course material. It makes about as much sense as Homer and his pal drinking beer while on a roof. ( I did that once, on my 21st birthday. It ended in injury.)  

I also turned my Lupron alarm off this morning and went back to bed, which means I missed my shot and ended up taking it a few hours late. Is this OK? I was in such a hurry then that I injected it cold, sans the time it usually takes to warm up to room temp out of the fridge. I waited for the possible seizure or anaphylactic shock, but thankfully nothing happened! I’m a mess today. I feel like between starting a new job (which I love) and trying to prepare my uterus for a new tenant, that I end up wasting any time in which I am not required to be working or in stirrups. Here are some ways in which I wasted my spare (not that there was an excess of it) time this week:  

  • I killed a few brain cells by actually watching Jerseylicious. If this is not the most monumental waste of a production crew then I am loath to see what comes out next.    

    Tacky is as Tacky Does

  •  I made homemade ice cream even though I did not have any heavy whipping cream. Beeker from The Muppets would have even been appalled.
  •  I spent an hour looking for a type of book at Barnes and Noble that I knew they did not have.
  •  I read the nasty comments that people wrote online about my past employer on www.jobvent.com. (No, I did not contribute, but it sure was fun!)
  •  I sat in my car outside my house to finish listening to an NPR interview
  •  I spent over an hour trying on clothes for my first day of work and ended up wearing the first thing I picked out

And then there is this post. See, I have been thinking about an interesting phenomenon that I discussed with my friends at their cafe the other day. WHY do we get so much done on the days when we have work, school, errands, etc, but then we do not get anything of merit accomplished when we actually have a day to ourselves? I had some really lofty plans set aside for today and instead I found myself searching Google Images  for a picture of Beeker. (I found a plethora, BTW)   

I am actually kind of miffed at myself because I cannot afford to do this. I can’t afford to miss my shot in the morning. I mean, this is important. Anyone who has gone through IVF knows that you have to stay organized and on top of your game. You can’t watch bitches in hooker shoes battling over whose jungle party was junglier, and you can’t have Beeker on the brain. Does this mean I am just getting used to being on a fertility regiment since it has been so long? I used to have my protocol taped to the fridge and emblazoned on my brain. And it has to be that way, because it is a time consumptive and precise process. What will I be like on the weekends once my baby is actually here? I have waited for him / her so long that I may end up just holding them and starting at them all day in pure bliss that they are finally here.  So, having expressed this sentiment, I now have to go organize my IVF binder, do some research for my course so it kicks ass, and stop wasting your time with a pointless blog post.  

Have a SAFE and PRODUCTIVE Labor Day weekend!  

Peace and Love,  

S  

  

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Zebra on 75 North


Wow. I really have neglected my little ongoing ramblings for a while. I started attending my own lecture in my mind tonight about how the longer I go without posting, the fewer people stop by. Even worse, the hits I have gotten in the past week have been from sites like “sex911,” “credit-score -something-or-other,” or really random ones like sites for mechanics, getting your taxes done, and the occasional X Rated site with a very uncreative moniker. All these automatic web hits to try and get me to go to their sites….um, HERE IS A TIP, Mr. “SEX911” –  You Are Hitting On A Boring Fertility Blog.  I am not intrigued by your futile attempts to draw me over to your racy, porno site. You know why? Because people that are trying to get pregnant are actively having sex. We’re not exactly lonely, and we are too busy shooting ourselves in the ass with incredibly large needles to have time to surf naughty web sites.  Sex is not new for us. You missed the mark. Maybe go try to hit on the mechanics site. Know your audience.

After my self-berating, internal monologue died down, I realized it is kind of a good thing that I have not posted lately, kind of a great thing, actually. It means I have been focusing on other things besides pregnancy tests, giving blood, and spending 3 days in a week in stirrups. I have been too pre-occupied with keeping my mind on one track, so I decided to get away for a bit. I took a solo road trip at night from Orlando to Atlanta last weekend and ended up having a series of spiritual experiences. It is a whole blog post of its own, and after I enjoy the alone-ness I am still savoring with it, I will probably write it out all here, for those of you that are interested. The only thing I am going to say is that things happened on that trip that were so noticeable and grand, and their timing so surreal, that I really felt the tight coil inside me fall open in a sort of relief and peace. As a side note, I saw a zebra in a pasture on a random stretch of land on 75N. An actual zebra. Grazing with two horses. Like he did not even know he was a zebra. In Florida. It makes me smile.

We have also just been enjoying the few weeks in-between being re-introduced to our frozen blastocysts. I mean, the waiting still sucks, but we have had some good times. My husband also jumped out of an airplane at 14,000, and I think it was as much as a thrill for me (when he returned to Earth, of course) as it was for him. It reminded me that I don’t want to be so scared of living as I get older. Fear can really hold us back, and the ego will run away with it if you let it. Does that mean that I am going to strap myself to a stranger and throw myself out of a plane any time soon? Hell no. But it reminds me to re-coup some of my spontaneity and joy I had when I was younger. I did many things and went many places when I could have just stood still, so it served as a nice, swift kick in the rear for me. By the way, here is the video. Nice 1:45 intro as to give props to Skydive Deland in Florida, to get things started off. If someone you love is planning on jumping, this is the place to take them. They were awesome.

* Video to come, experiencing slight technical difficulties. 🙂

YoGabbaGabba and other oddities


 Is the picture on Monday the 1st supposed to be a condom? Ew.

Image courtesy of none other than..Marie Claire!

  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 This is dedication. If men had the babies and had to grasp what a chart like this really means, there would be no people.   

 

Disturbing.

 

 

 

 

 

If you think Overhyper Stimulation sounded scary, check this out:

 

Holy crap!:

 

Santa! I know him!


I need to laugh. I desperately need something or someone to light a firecracker on my funny bone and make me cry silent tears of hysteria. Before that, I am taking just one, guiltless moment to whine about being sick of having to force patience into my daily repertoire. I found out today that, after injecting myself with powders and saline and eye-of-newt, counting down the days of May with bated breath, and finally getting to the point where I believed the stick would turn – aha! One line to two! – I get postponed another month before we can finish this IVF cycle. Come on, now! I know a month is like the blink of an ant’s eye in the grand scheme, but I was not born with that patience virtue. Being on Earth and having to go about life I have tried to mimic it, but I don’t enjoy being patient. It’s like sitting in the hot sun waiting for a bus. Nodding off at your desk and its only 1:00. Waiting for Direct TV to show up between 10:00 am and when Hell freezes over. But I have had to be very patient – I was patient for two years recovering from a nasty illness. And I have been patient now, waiting for my baby. But I need for once to just be an indulgent girl and say that I don’t want to wait another four or five weeks to keep going. It’s more limbo. It’s not the end of the World, it’s just annoying.

So I really need to laugh. I need to share things with you that make me bust out laughing. Some things are just pretty much always amusing. Hmmm…..Will Farrell in Elf is just funny. The scene when Santa comes.Yes, it’s June, but please just watch his face. You might pee yourself a little. If you don’t think he is twisted and funny, you need to keep watching until you see it.

I am feeling so much better. Going to have to keep sharing the love. This next kid puts a massive smile on my face.

It’s a shame that YouTube does not have any good clips of SNL Jeopardy – especially with Sean Connery. I now find myself having wasted well over an hour watching YouTube and Hulu, and I feel much better. It can just be frustrating to realize that you have not been living in the moment, which is so important yet so difficult to maintain. I think the best that we can do is to just stop and try to enjoy what’s going on now as often as we can remember – even if what’s going on now is being able to sleep in late on the weekends, read an outstanding book, or just trying to find ways to laugh. There really are so many things that I have been rushing, or sometimes even just avoiding, because I am almost living from one appointment at my RE (Reproductive Endocrinologist for those of you not trying to reproduce) to the next. It always feels one scan or one shot away from The Beginning of The End.  If you follow this blog because you are in this process, or getting ready to start it, stay hopeful and remember it’s a journey before a destination. If you can write about it, laugh about it, or try to learn from it while your on the hike, you might be doing yourself a really huge service. I guess sometimes it’s easier to give stellar advice than to follow it. But if it gets too huge and the waiting is just too much, take a day off work and off the hamster wheel and try to just enjoy a moment of relaxation – even it’s just a moment.

There Are No Headphones in the Wards of Hell


I had an odd feeling when, posting my last blog, I realized I was making this whole IVF thing sound like a routine oil change or unloading the dishwasher. Not pleasant, but far from a root canal or a bad bout with the flu. It felt kind of wrong, and I think it was because I was tempting fate.

Last Thursday we went in for our egg retrieval. If you remember my pictures of the hippos, I was the happy one. Here I am – waiting and ready for the next step. (I am not sure why patients have to wear the cafeteria lady caps, but so be it.) My husband was then sent to a room where he was going to be able to watch the retrieval on a monitor, and I was put under. I woke up just about 20 minutes later, and except for some mild pain and moderate bloating, I felt fine. Eating my Captain’s Wafers and drinking my apple juice, all was right with the World. Especially because, when I awoke, I was told that the doctor had retrieved 26 eggs!!!!  This is a crazy good response, even for a girl who has not had the hormonal challenges I have, and I was elated! When I found out, I clutched my little Captains Wafer so hard it crumbled in my palm. The tears just slid down my face and I was awash with joy. In fact, the nurse told me that the girl in the bed next to me – also in for a retrieval – began to cry when she heard my response because she was happy for me. (Say what you want about girls being catty, those of us in fertility treatment feel joy for our sisters in the same boat.)

So, now my adrenaline was pumping. I am not sure why, but I was HUNGRY. And, as I laid on the sofa that day resting my ovaries, I really did forget that I just had fairly invasive surgery. In fact, you can see by looking at the pictures below that my husband took of the monitor during retrieval: (The black circles are follicles, and the white “pencil” like line is the needle, withdrawing the eggs from the follicle.)

So, being happy and hungry I ate like I had not just had surgery. And over the course of the day, I was taking 3 does of a new antibiotic – Tetracycline, which I will never again touch with a ten foot pole – and also some steroids. Add that to 2 Darvocet, 2 Tylenol, a host of fertility drugs, a thirsty man’s share of Gatorade, and OHSS (Ovarian Hyperstimulation Syndrome) and you get one sick girl. Fast. By 7:00 PM I was as sick as I have ever been. I am going to leave a lot of that out, because 1) I do not want to scare anyone out of IVF, as this is rare, and 2) I feel deathly ill if I think about it for more than 6 seconds.

By the time I got to the hospital I was that crazy person you see in the ER and think they must be suffering some unimaginable fate unbeknownst to you. Like Plague. I went in public without a bra, and I have not done that since the 7th grade. I was in pajamas with no shoes, getting sick in public while screaming that I needed immediate help or I would ask that they put me to sleep. (I did ask for this by the way, like how you would put Rover out of his misery.) My stomach was so distended I have put my pregnant friends to shame. Now, please know – I do have OHSS, but this severe illness is thought to have been caused by the Tetracycline and other meds, so do not think this is normal. But I have to tell you that I have not been in misery like that since I had my brain operated on. You know that nausea that creeps up your esophagus to your neck like a humid cloud, leaving pure dread in your heart until you want to give up? And there is no relief? The shot they gave me to relieve it worked for about an hour, but after that I was in Hell again. After 4 shots of 3 different naseau meds, they finally knocked me out with some calming shots in my buttocks and I fell asleep.

Now, I want to let you know that what ensued next was torture, by all means, but the humor was apparent and I knew my husband and I would get many laughs out of it in better days. After 12 hours I could open my eyes, and I was in a ward of six people because the hospital was over capacity. I suspect that 5 of these 6 people had their personal TVs on, and they were having a pissing contest on who could get theirs the loudest and on the most obnoxious shows. Why are blasting TVs allowed where people are ill, suffering, and need some peace? Now, below you will see a lovely man that I randomly found on the internet, watching his TV. He looks pretty happy, so I am going to assume he is just in for some hair plugs or something. But notice he is wearing HEADPHONES while he watches. There are no headphones in the wards in Hell, and there were none in mine. 

I also want to take a moment to discuss the man that was to my left, who I never saw but sure enough heard. No words can describe him, so I will let some of his own quotes speak for themselves (some to nurses, some while on the phone, some to his evil guide who must have stood at the foot of his bed urging him on to be an asshole):

  • “I didn’t want to see no G$damned Shutter Island! Man, that movie was Sh#t! Leonardo DiCaprio, that Mother Fu&$cker is an elf!” (I still do not understand this one)
  • “Avatar was the bomb, baby! Yo, there are these fuc&#ing Avator aliens, and they live on Pandora under a big ass tree, and man, you can bring the kids because they don’t go around saying ‘Mother Fu%#er this’ and ‘Mother Fu&*er that’.”
  • “Where’s my private room, where is my penthouse? I am paying top dollar, I am not on Medicaid!”
  • “I don’t feel like like going to the bathroom, I am just going to do it here.”

He also ate 5 meals and 2 sandwiches in one day. Drifting in and out of broken sleep (for a lack of a better term), I think I also heard the doctor tell him they found lice in his shoes. And no, I do not think he was homeless.

The guy to my right was pretty bad, but he had an excuse because he was old. Still, his daughter was a talker and described to him 3 times how when her husband (Mark) got home, they made frozen pizzas (Pepperoni.) She had two slices. My husband was about to go postal and he was not even sick. There was also the crazed old lady who I felt really bad for, because she kept yelping in Spanish, and then there was the snorer. He was rough. I had drug induced fantasies of praying upon him with a Breathe Right strip. Instead, I prayed my thanks to sweet Jesus and all the good folks on the other side when I was released from the bowels of the beast and into my own bed.

Needless to say, there is good news. Although breathing and walking are still chores, 22 of our 26 eggs fertilized! Exactly when we put one of the embryos back is up in the air and will probably be kept private, but it makes it all worth it. Even the parts I excluded, such as sharing a bathroom with a man that, I thought I had heard, may have had a really bad, really catching infection.

Here’s to getting over obstacles and getting on to good news!

                                               
       

 

 

 

 

 
                                    

It’s Personal


Through me and my husband’s fertility journey, I have often searched online for information about what is going on with other people and how it might apply to me. I found chat room discussions, and even personal blogs, where women shared REALLY personal information about their bodies, their husband’s sperm analysis, their bedroom routines, their addiction to home pregnancy tests, their financial strain, and on and on and on and on. And I thought to myself, “I am a pretty open person, but who wants to read a blog about a stranger’s menstrual cycle or polycystic ovaries?”  Then, of course, I realized that I did. I was reading, searching, laughing, yet still surfing.  Because it is really BIG trying to conceive – or not trying to conceive, or trying to maintain a healthy pregnancy, or trying to prepare for birth, or adjusting to breastfeeding, or post- pardem whatever-you-develop, and so on and so forth. Most of my friends are somewhere in that last sentence, and not only do I find these to be extraordinary moments in a gal’s life – but some of them are just shamelessly funny. I mean funny in a horrific, no pride, no-way-am-I-ever-telling this to anyone way. Only, here’s the thing:  Fertility is a private matter. Which does not bode well with me, because I am not a private person. I just have to talk about most of what I am going through – it makes the sweet parts sweeter, and the tough times a little bit easier to smile at. Sometimes, even laugh. So I am going to write it, and post it, and hope I do not regret it. Because there may talk about self injections, swollen boobs, embarrassing OBGYN stories, etc. But I also want to share the real parts of this – so that if you find this link on my FaceBook page and you are or have secretly been through any of this, you can read for amusement and camaraderie. Just as I have done for the past two years. So…more to come.

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