Thursday, December 3, 2009

Diagnosis: Hmmmm

Sorry about the bummer post from the other day. I've noticed that pain tends to make me all emo-tastic in my writing. I'm really not sure if anyone is still reading this, but I will go ahead and update whoever on the doctors appointment. If nothing else, it gives me a record of what happened.

I tend to make less of my symptoms when talking to medical professionals. I try not to show any pain I am feeling and try to be happy and pleasant. You can imagine the confused looks I have gotten when describing my pain levels and symptoms while smiling like nothing is wrong. Because of that, I was determined to not sugar-coat this appointment. I didn't make more of it than it was, but based on the nurse's reactions she could tell I was in pain. Um...good? I've decided that doctors are like hairdressers. If you are always complaining about how you can never find one who does what you ask, you have to look at the common denominator: you. During my appointment I asked all the questions I could think of, made it clear that the pain was interfering with my daily activities and work, and repeatedly told the doctor that having kids was so far on the back burner right now that we shouldn't be talking about it.

After all these cold and lonely months apart, my sweet ultrasound probe and I were reunited. The ultrasound showed no progression of the endo (which it wouldn't because endo doesn't show up on ultrasound) and no cysts. What it did reveal was a "moderate" amount of pelvic fluid. The doctor was certain it was from ruptured cysts and would clear up on its own. Here's the weird thing though, I have had the same thing happen at least 3 other times (no cysts, just fluid). Nearly every ultrasound I've had over the last 2 years has shown fluid. I brought this up and he seemed puzzled, but not overly concerned. I for one am proud of my cysts who would rather destroy themselves than show up on that black and white screen of justice. Has anyone out there had this happen?

He wrote me a prescription for some pain meds to get me through the rough patch and sent me on my way. I thought it would be no problem to get it filled. Funny, I thought all my naievete was gone by now. When I handed the scrip to the pharmacist she frowned and said there was a mistake and she didn't have this dosage. After a minute she said the 5 was supposed to be a 3 and that she couldn't fill it. I assured her that he certainly meant to write a 3, but I was told that, sorry, she can't fill it. Can I call the doctor and have him talk to her? No. They would need a re-written scrip in order to fill my pain meds. Typically this would be merely annoying, but the doctor's office is roughly a half hour drive one way from the pharmacist and driving is particularly painful right now. I walked out in a huff (I know it wasn't her fault, but it also wasn't mine and I was now going to be driving for another hour in severe pain because of one freaking number) and called the office. I managed to get there about 10 minutes before they were closing and got the new fancy piece of paper, drove back, proceeded to wait 15 minutes, then finally got home and took a pill. Only an hour and a half extra spent driving and waiting. Sheesh! I guess my bad luck with the pharmacy continues.

That night, when the pills had kicked in and were making me dizzy and loopy, I had to sing a duet in church with The Boy. Do you know how hard it is to sing Oh Holy Night when all you can picture is the Southpark where Cartman is singing it? YouTube it if you've never seen it. The last 15 seconds are magical. It probably goes without saying that my giggles beforehand were louder than I thought they were, and my singing was not so hot.

So, I guess it's good to have gotten a bit of a reason for the pain increase lately. It's great to have some strong meds (though they made me pretty nauseated last night). Apparently, my body just decided to have it's own holiday celebration, causing my ovaries to explode with delight! It's a Thanksgiving/Christmas miracle!!

Monday, November 30, 2009

Round and round we go.

I feel like my life is a mobius strip, slowly spiraling lower and lower (I know, technically this would just be a spiral and not a mobius strip, but go with me). My endometriosis pain increases, I eventually go to the doctor for treatment, I am given an ultrasound that shows nothing conclusive, I am given the "next step" for endometriosis management, I'm ok for a few months or weeks or days, and then the cycle begins again. Lather, rinse, repeat.

Tomorrow I am going back to the doctor for a no-doubt normal looking ultrasound and to be told of my dwindling options. This last week has been one of the most painful in the last 5 years, and that is saying something. It has become more difficult to wave it off or stay silent so that my sweet husband is left holding me while I cry and scream in pain. Much as he hates to see me like this, it is the only thing he can do and he would never shirk what he feels is part of being a good husband.

The pain is still primarily centered around my right ovary, but has evolved into a deep gnawing pain that stabs and burns and knocks the wind out of me and knocks me to the ground. It has also spread to my left side and throughout my abdomen, but only sporadically and not with the same intensity. I can only imagine what my shriveled little raisin of an ovary looks like now. If I knew it would rid me of the pain and give me back my life, I wouldn't hesitate to have surgery. As it is, I still have vivid memories of how quickly my pain returned after my first laparoscopy as well as the new pain that also came. Oh, and I suppose money is an ever-present issue, too.

We have family that would willingly help us pay for hospital bills if we asked them for help. I am unwilling. I'm sure most of it is displaced pride, but I feel like my insides have been the business of so many people of late that getting donations would be like selling shares of myself. I worry that it would give away all my rights of privacy about my broken insides. Bad enough that word has spread in our families and everyone seems to know we are barren and adopting, even those we haven't spoken to since last Thanksgiving. I would rather not have the exact condition of my uterus, or my need for a hysterectomy discussed over dinners of which I am not present like it's the newest episode of The O.ffice.

So I'll steel myself for another adventure with The Wand, not knowing if I would rather it showed a reason for this new pain or not.

Wednesday, October 21, 2009

That old familiar feeling.

Today can suck it. Yesterday too.
Last night I found out through effing F@cebook that the guy I dated for a while right before The Boy is having a kid. Well, technically his wife is.
"But hey, everyone else is pregnant too or just had a baby, why should this bug you?"
The reasons don't entirely make sense, and certainly don't cast me in the most flattering light, but allow me to explain.

This guy and I dated on and off for about 8 months. He was The Boy's roommate (I know, I totally pulled the Seinfeld roommate switch!) and when we were together he talked about us being serious, but when I was gone he talked about how he was basically using me and felt kind of bad...but not bad enough to stop. Fast forward to me finally getting sick of it and being ready to be done with the whole farce. I went on a road trip with The Boy and some friends and The Boy's Roommate (TBR from now on) couldn't come. I come home ready to make a clean break (TBR had ended things about 2 months prior, but I still maintained hope of us getting back together because I am sad and pathetic) and suddenly TBR realizes how much he missed me and is being all wishy-washy about things. I tell him we're done, he makes sad faces, I hang out with The Boy much more, we end up getting engaged, TBR is all pissy pants and "needs some time" to get over things. Well tough nipples planet, I wasted enough of my time on you.

Eventually, we are able to become friends and he gets married about a year and a half ago. She is nice enough, but I hate that it's just expected for me to be friends with her. I also hate that TBR acts all offended if she's around and someone says something scandalous, but when she's gone he says some pretty filthy things. I guess I didn't really like her tons before and her properly working reproductive system just cinched it for me.

Before you judge me too harshly, these are friends that we would hear nothing from for months, but would call out of the blue to ask for a ride to/from the airport...the day before! Yup, the day before they came home from their honeymoon TBR called The Boy because he "forgot" to arrange a way home. Get a loving cab!!! TBR is also the one who when The Boy told him a bit about our struggles with infertility responded by saying, "So you had to spooge in a cup? Ha ha!" with all the class of your average frat boy. People, don't make jokes about infertility, especially to the guys involved. It's not funny and you come off as a total ass.

So yeah, reading an oh so coy update that included her using the term "preggers" *skin crawl* was not exactly the highlight of my week. I ended up being pretty silent all night until we went to bed, when I lost it and just started sobbing. Deep, wracking sobs of self pity. She is due in April and it kept hitting me that by the time she has the kid we will still have over two years before we can even turn our paperwork into China. I don't envy her being pregnant, not really. I envy the quick progression that pregnant women have to deal with. I envy the money they won't have to spend on travel and fees. I envy the lack of home checks, physicals, and all the other endless hoops adoptive parents have to jump through. I envy her, and every other mother like her, the lack of pain both emotional and physical from infertility.

It's a hard thing to go through the months and years of struggle constantly trying to come to terms with the cards I've been dealt and realize that in spite of all the progress we've made, I will probably always feel that sinking emptiness every time someone announces a pregnancy. How many times will I have to go hide in that cold lonely space in my head wondering what I did to end up here.

Tuesday, September 22, 2009

Some actual China adoption stuff

We've been asked a bit lately about how the adoption process is going. Honestly, all we can do right now is make improvements on our home and work on our Mandarin. Not terribly exciting, I'm afraid.
I have, of course, been doing a bunch of research and reading up on other people's experiences. In the process of which I came across two very interesting websites:
No Hands But Ours
Love Without Boundaries
If you are interested in some heartwarming stories of how people have helped Chinese orphans, check them out.

Sunday, August 30, 2009

Anger, my old friend

Ah...there it is. That oh so common sinking feeling of dread, anger, disbelief, and nausea in the pit of my stomach that happens when someone else I know announces a pregnancy. The person in question is the husband of the pregnant one and a guy I used to hang out with fairly regularly. We're friends, as we have always been, and I don't begrudge him an ounce of happiness. I just don't know how to respond to the inevitable question of when it will be my turn. We're enough alike that I could, no doubt, use the sarcasm that I only threaten to use on people. I'll probably do that.

It's been a summer of babies for most of the people I know. One sister, two cousins, two friends, and several acquaintances all within 2 months of each other.
I don't feel as much rage and bitterness as I once did. In fact, the idea of not being pregnant or going through labor is appealing enough to me that I'm quite excited about adopting. I don't regret having a genetic link to my future child at all. She'll be much better off not having to deal with the rotten genes on both sides, if you ask me. What I do mind is the wait. And the questions (i.e. "So when are you going to have kids?"). And the people sending me IMs on facebook saying "I heard you were pregnant!" yeah...not so much. Oh, and the waiting. People all around us are having first, second, even third babies as we wait to even start the long, even more wait-filled process.

In other news, it looks like my quest for relief from the endo pain is at an end for now. The doctor wanted to put me on Lupron to see if it helped any more. After the supply company informed me that one injection would be over $1300 I told them thanks but no thanks. I can think of a hell of a lot more things I'd rather do with that sort of money than get a shot in the ass. Sheesh, I can get some seriously entertaining shots of illegal substances for less than that. Not that I would, of course. Hey, what's that on your shoulder? *runs away*

Friday, June 26, 2009

Taking some time off

So, I realize it's been a while since I posted. Frankly, work has been extremely hectic and I don't have many amusing anecdotes lately. The baby influx continues as my cousin had her baby last week (on my birthday no less! How rude!) and my other cousin is due to pop any time.
Then endo continues to be a struggle and I don't know that my meds are doing much to help it. Guess I should make another appointment soon. Bah to my messed up insides!
An interesting thing has happened with our study of Mandarin. We have learned enough that The Boy can ask me if I'm ok and if I want to go home while we are at a family gathering. It may not sound like much, but it's nice to be able to talk "openly" about not being able to handle staying around the happy parents any longer. I'm sure it will be nicer still when we can have full conversations where we talk crap about people while they stand right there. I'm sure this makes me a horrible person, but I have to take what victories I can, right?
Aside from being busy, I'm not really sure what to do with this blog anymore. It's not really in "infertile" blog in the traditional sense. We are adopting, but not any time soon. It just seems we've slipped through the cracks of relevancy with all that has happened this last year. I'll still post occasionally about anything that seems interesting/amusing/horrible, but not as often as I once did, I guess.
Last interesting anecdote:
The night of my birthday I dreamed that The Boy and I were watching a cute little Chinese girl who wasn't ours, but sort of was. I can't remember what her name was (I'm sure it was random Chinese sounds my brain tossed together to invent a name) but she was roughly 13 months old and was completely and utterly gorgeous, as well as being a bit of a goofball. Course, then I woke up realizing how long we have before we will ever be picking up our daughter and was all bummed out for the rest of the week.

Saturday, June 6, 2009

Highlights of a baby shower

Well, I survived the baby shower, but not without some damage to my fine shiny exterior. I really didn't want to go, but figured if I didn't I could kiss my already rocky relationship with my sister goodbye. I was in the middle of deciding which would be the lesser evil when my mom called and told me I basically had to come.

Anyway, without boring you too much, here are the highlights from the blessed event.

-Standing around, waiting for sis to show up and being surrounded by friends and family, all but 2 of whom had/brought their kids to the event (the other two who have no kids are neither married, nor old enough to drink). Talk about being the misfit elf!

-My cousin who is ,most definitely NOT old enough to drink carrying her one year old around, while 2 weeks shy of birthing the second child. Good holy hell!

-Sister's husband being at the otherwise all-woman shower. Since when is this allowed? Bah, he just annoys me anyway, shower attending or not.

-And of course, priceless gems from a crazy aunt including the hits "My boss doesn't think it's funny that I tell him he bought a baby" (he recently adopted), "Could a make a onesie that says 'My mom was a crack head, but I'm not being raised by her anymore'?", and "I guess I shouldn't say this stuff out loud, huh?"

Between the cooing, the awwing over the baby, the endless sea of pink clothes (let no other color touch the precious one lest she be "turned gay"), and my crazy aunt deciding that I was the one who wanted to hear the madness that springs forth from her mind, it was a bit much. So anyone out there have some amusing stories of baby showers? I could use a laugh at someone else's expense for once.

Edit:In deleting a spam comment about alternative treatments, I accidentally got rid of a genuine comment. Oops! Yes, my aunt is crazy.