slapstick

A few years ago I was in very early to work and, being the only one around, I allowed myself to sing along to my MP3 player.

Well, I say "sing", it was rather less tuneful than that. Anyway, I droned along as I sorted paper on my desk and added the odd interpretive dance move for good measure. And then I turned and saw Professor Brainiac leaning against the doorframe for support as he shook with laughter, tears streaming down his face.

Because I wasn't just singing tunelessly and dancing. No, I was singing "Isl@nds in the Stream". And if this wasn't quite naff enough, I was singing Dolly's part with my version of a Southern accent.

I learnt my lesson and have never burst into song or busted a move in the office since.

And then this morning I was once again the only person in at 7.30 and history repeated itself, only this time it was Dr Old-School who was observing the show. And I wasn't singing, I was playing air drums to this song and not doing as good a job as the drummer in this clip...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J8gvIscsMkg

box of tricks

Lor' love a duck, it's huge...

This is what £1163 buys you...


Hmm, what tasty supper treat can I make with hummus, a dried-up lemon, some G0nal-F and healthy dollop of Pregny.l...?

stormy weather

Thank you so much to those who commented on my last post, wishing me luck and giving me encouragement. I am a lot calmer now, thanks in no small part to those good wishes.

But it has been quite a week since that last post. I was recommended an online pharmacy by a friend who has already used them for IVF drugs. They are £700 cheaper than our clinic, and throw in extra needles, swabs, plasters and a sharps bin in for free. But a national postal strike meant that we had to have the prescription sent by courier and somehow, that small extra step threw poor Significant Other into a bit of a tailspin.

Suddenly it was of the utmost importance that he book himself into several work meetings and conferences that would take him out of London, the first starting on what looks likely to be the first day of injections and one, rather more worryingly, taking him to the other end of the country on what may potentially be retrieval day. I took a deep breath and agreed that of course he should go to all of the meetings, including the one that would keep him away for a week around and after potential transfer day BUT it was pretty important that he was in London for the day of collection. I think that my calm response calmed him a little, as he admitted that none of the meetings were mandatory and so of course he will wait until we know for sure before he books himself into the one which we think will fall on collection day.

Peace reigned for a day or so and then another wave of panic washed over him, this time about what would we do if I got pregnant and we lost the baby again. I wasn't able to answer this one any better than to say cope the best we can. That's the only thing to do, isn't it? It's what we've been doing after Starchild and Bean died, some days better than others, but coping nonetheless.

But the waves of panic kept rolling and this time washed him - and so me - on the shores of "and what if the IVF fails?" But this question Significant Other sort of answered himself (though I hope against hope that he didn't mean what it seems like he meant). He wants children so desperately. And he can have them, the problem here is mine and not his. He has super swimmers - billions of them, apparently, and all of Olympic gold standard. And he said that he wasn't sure if he could envision a life without children and for him, adopting is not an option.

So...

So...? I don't know. I don't know what is going to happen, and I can't really think about it right now or it all gets too overwhelming.

All I can do is to break everything down into bite-sized chunks and the mouthful for today is waiting in for the courier company to deliver the drugs.

protocol

I have my protocol in my suddenly clammy and trembling hands.

Cl0mid / Cetr0tide / Men0pur are my drugs of...well, not choice.

Men0pur 75iu - inject 3 ampoules daily for 9 days.
Cl0mid 50mgs twice daily for 5 days
Cetr0tide 0.25mg - inject 1 daily for 8 days
Pr0gynova 2mg - 1 tablet 3 times a day for 18 days
G0nal F 450iu - inject 225iu daily for 9 days

And of course, the garnish of Pr£gnyl 5000iu injection and Vibr@mycin 100mg for 8 days.

I'm scared.

Er...ouch?

This post is going to contain rather too much information, please feel free to avert your eyes.

Yesterday was D9 of my "preparation cycle" so, as instructed by Hawkeye (my consultant looks like Al@n Ald@), I took myself off to the clinic to have my dummy embryo transfer and HyCoSy.

The first, obviously, requires a full bladder so I duly drank a vat of water and hopped around the waiting room in agony until I was called.

"This won't take long," Calm Nurse said as I assumed the position and awkwardly exchanged handshakes with a new doctor who was already inspecting my lady-bits. The speculum went in, jiggled around a bit because it wasn't quite in the right position, jiggled around a bit more and then was extracted again.
"Sorry," muttered new doctor. "I will need to try it again."
This time she meant business and practically slammed it into position. Reeling from the pain, I was almost completely unaware of the catheter being placed, or the swabs being taken or even the probe pressing on my protesting bladder.

It truly didn't take very long and before I knew it, I was tottering off the table. I made a less-than-dignified sight hot-footing it down to the loo in my socks, sheet gathered around my bare nether half with the "NHS Property" stamp positioned comically over my rump.

Back then for the HyCoSy. I had been told that, while not something you would do for fun, the procedure was nowhere near as bad as an HSG. As I had sailed through that ordeal without too much trauma, I was rather arrogantly supposing that this one would be a piece of cake.

Not so much. Slam! The speculum went in. Eyes watering, I turned to the monitor to watch the show as the balloon followed the speculum. Out came the speculum to be replaced by the magic libido-reducing wand but nothing appeared on the monitor. New doctor moved the wand around with determination but still nothing. With a sigh she warned me that she would have to do the whole thing again.

By this time I think she had a grudge against my cervix as the speculum went in with such vigour I was concerned it might never come back out again. But apparently brute force does work because my innards filled with saline to new doctor's satisfaction and pretty soon I was tottering off the table again and inserting myself gratefully back into my clothing.

Last night and today I feel pretty grim, but anyone about to have an HyCoSy for the first time - don't be alarmed. You get given antibiotics afterwards, wherein lies the rub for me as antibiotics and I have a hate-hate relationship. They give me dreadful GI upset and all I am fit to do is sip ginger tea and lie on the sofa in a Camille-stylee.

So there we are. Nothing more to do until D14 when I start the Primolut again and head off down to The Cycle.

Crikey...

IVF's little ironies

Popping into the chemist at lunch-time to buy folic acid and a box of c0nd0ms...

A fairy story (pg mentioned)

Hey, did you hear the one about the couple who met, fell in love, got married, moved out of the city and bought a big house in the country, decided that they wanted a baby, 2 months later were expecting a baby, told all their friends almost before the stick was dry, had a healthy and care-free pregnancy followed by a beautiful, healthy baby?

True story, it happened to friends of mine. That's the Hans Christian Anderson part.

Here's the Brothers Grimm bit.

Same friend - who knows about the loss of Starchild and Bean and the TTC struggles - emailed baby photos with the message: "Motherhood is the best thing ever. You should try it."

A full day later and I still have no idea how to respond to that.