The Gainesville Report, Part 3

I'm baaaack! Home safe with my kitty and my buggy car.

So, it's time to update you all on my adventures, and I'll try to answer some of the questions - sorry, couldn't check comments while I was away. But first (and most importantly!) let me just say that meeting Calliope was fabulous! She is one cool chick (as I always knew she'd be). And just as gorgeous in real life as she is in photos, and we all know she's pretty darn photogenic, so that's a lot to live up to. I had a blast meeting her, and hope that we'll be able to get together again soon. It's just so heart warming to finally meet someone that you've connected to, and to have so much in common. And yes, she's a dork for worrying if I'd like her. Duh! I was worried that there were so many cooler people in her internet fan club than me that I'd just seem very ho hum and boring. But hey, we talked about sperm and vaginas and RE's and IVFs and internet friends, so no worries about running out of things to discuss!

OK, so back to Gainesville. The clinic is set up kind of like a doctor's office, but with more "homey" touches so it doesn't have as much of a clinical feeling. There are 5 treatment rooms, with a fancy massage type bed, supplies and of course, tinkly music. You strip to your bra and knickers (or panties if I'm being American), and put on a robe. There is also a paper gown to wear if you want to, but I found it hot, crinkly and sweaty, so I stuck with the robe. Each patient also has a blankie - the blankie and robe are yours for the week, which they put in a big plastic bag with your name on after every session. When the therapist is working on you, they usually have you lying on your back, with the robe open at the waist, and they put a towel over your knickers for a bit more coverage. You can have the blankie on you too, if you want. Mine was usually over my toes which got a bit chilly.

Every day they worked on my abdomen. They would palpate it and move it around to find stuck spots, then would dig their fingers in and hold it. The first couple of days, it would feel like the skin was tearing when they were doing that. After that, it felt like a hot poker. I started thinking of it as the house of pain at those moments. But after it got really really hot, it would release and go back to normal. Then they would let go and palpate again, and you could totally tell that the restriction was either gone or completely lessened. I thought several times of asking them to stop, but usually just said "ah-ah-ah" like I'd put my hand on a hot stove or a pathetic "it buuuurns" and we kept going after they checked if I was OK. They also worked on my head, neck, jaw and thighs. I found the worst points to be my left hip flexor which hurt like a mo'fo', and this morning as they were working on it I had a memory pop up of falling down a metal slide as a kid and landing badly, and my jaw on the right, where I got an overwhelming feeling of sadness and ended up bawling my eyes out as they touched a sore spot. They say you can store memories of trauma in your tissues, which I totally believe. Didn't find out what was causing the jaw issue, but it may come up later I guess.

I had four therapists working on me over the course of the week - 3 women and a man. The man did 2 out of the 20 total hours, one woman did 4, the others more. At first I was worried about having different people see my flab, but it was actually good because each therapist was a little different in technique and personality so I felt like I was getting the best out of each of them.

And I got an internal session every day too. It usually lasted about 10-15 minutes out of the 4 hours total treatment I got every day. They'd have me take my knickers off, and while I was draped in a towel, they would glove up and stick their hand up my va-jay-jay. Usually lying on my back, though I did have to get in some pretty weird positions. Again, they'd find a stuck spot and push on it, until it "gave". Sometimes this hurt a lot, sometimes not. It was actually fine most of the time, except when they were moving my cervix to make my uterus move, which felt pretty damn odd. On Thursday, I got the internal treatment in the other area. Yes, a man stuck his finger up my arse. But apart from the unpleasant feeling of his finger when it first went in, and when he took it out, the actual treatment up there didn't hurt. He was pulling on two ligaments to move my tailbone. I think the thought of it was worse than actually going through it, but I definitely won't be volunteering for it again any time soon.

So, I'm sad that the week is over. Not that I like pain, but they were so nice and caring, and it gave me so much hope. It was a profound experience in so many ways, and I didn't want that to end. But also because I feel that there are still areas of my body that are stuck and restricted that I'd like more work done on, even though they said some of it will continue to heal based on this week's work. However, in my discharge evaluation, the therapist was able to move my cervix all around without pain, my uterus is much more mobile, my legs are the same length (one had actually shortened by an inch or two because the muscles were so tight) and I can open my jaw without pain. She measured me bending through different angles, and as an example, when she had me lean backwards, I could bend my spine back 10 degrees more than on Monday morning. 10 degrees! Just from loosening the muscles, tendons and ligaments.

Pretty remarkable stuff. I highly recommend it to anyone with adhesions, blocked tubes or other tightness, and a high pain tolerance. And five grand (though hopefully insurance will reimburse some of it). And a BMI less than 36. And a willingness to believe that it works.

In other words, it was a fucking fabulous week.

The pissed off report

I finally took time out of my busy schedule of being poked and prodded to call the embryo storage place. I asked them why the "single client depositor" form didn't let me donate embryos to scientific research in the event of my death. They told me it was because the sperm donor had not consented to the embryos being used for stem cell research.

Puh-lease. How ridiculous is that?  First of all, not all of the research is stem cell  research. Some of it is plain old IVF research. Second, I thought the point of using frozen sperm was so that I had 100 percent legal control over it. The sperm donor consented to the use of his sperm. The fact that he may or may not have consented to research should be completely irrelevant.  Third, I'm sure anybody, fundamentalist Christian or not, would rather the embryos were used for research if the only other alternative was the trash.  Well no, I'm sure they would want me to jump through all the donation hoops now in case I snuff it. Well, ignoring the fact that they would have preferred me not to conceive out of wedlock, of course.  But say I die tomorrow, before I get the donation paperwork done, there's an embryo there - would anyone honestly object to using it for research in preference to disposing of it?  I'm going to have to complain to my RE about this.

In happier news, today I get to meet Calliope. I bet you're all jealous of me!  So I'll tell her all about the Clear Passage stuff, and maybe I'll tell you guys more about it tomorrow. Today's interesting maneuver - having to sit on my heels in a kneeling position with a therapist's hand up my hoo-ha pushing on my cervix to move my uterus forward. Fun, fun, fun!
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The Gainesville Report, part 2

I really wasn't going to post today. I thought a nice little holiday from blogging would be cool. And here I am. Because, well, wow.

I don't know about other infertiles, but since reading Julia Indichova's book, Inconceivable, I've been waiting for that "aha" moment. The "so this is why I had to go through infertility" moment. Julia thought that her child was waiting for her to get healthy before conceiving. Me, I feel like I've tried everything, without success. Other women have amazing success with acupuncture, giving up coffee or alcohol, drinking concoctions of wheatgrass, doing yoga, whatever. I've tried it all, it seems and was getting nowhere.

And then I came here. Today has been painful physically. They have been freeing up areas of my body that have been tight for decades. Trust me, it tears and burns and stings when someone is forcing your fascia to stretch. But then I had this realization. I couldn't have gotten pregnant in that state. I would have been a mess. How would my body have coped with the rigors of pregnancy, with all that stretching and moving of organs?  All that extra weight and need for bloodflow.  Not to mention the potential for it to inflict more chronic pain and body changes on me. So then I had the "oh, I would never have done this therapy and been able to heal from these adhesions and restrictions without infertility" realization. I felt that something good had finally come out of it for me. And not only will this help me get pregnant (I hope), it will enable me to live in less pain for years to come (I hope).

I feel like this is what I was meant to do. And that is an awesome and humbling feeling that I'm profoundly grateful for. Even if I'm sore and tired right now.
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The Gainesville report, part 1

The drive to Gainesville was long and buggy.  I stopped at a service plaza and almost didn't recognize the car, it was so splattered with these big black mating bugs. They're everywhere up here - silly me thought north Florida would be less buggy than south Florida not MORE buggy!

Anyway, so far so good at Clear Passage. They are very nice and caring.    

The first 2 hour session was mostly taken up with my evaluation, although we did a little bit of treatment. It was so interesting. The therapist took one look at me standing in my underwear and said my belly button was pulled to one side. And it was!  She showed me in the mirror. I had never noticed before. I had lots of other asymmetries - I could tell as she was testing me. The right side of my abdomen is all tight (which is consistent with all the adhesions found in my surgery) and it is pulling on the left side. My legs are out of whack, I have a lot of neck, shoulder and jaw tightness, and my core and pelvis floor muscles are weak. She did an internal assessment vaginally, and again there was a lot of tightness and asymmetry.

Then she did a treatment while she had her hand up there. It honestly wasn't too bad. It felt like she was just pushing on a spot and holding it there. But when I said "so basically you just push on a spot and hold it?" she laughed. She was like, so my technique that I have carefully refined over 25 years has been boiled down to that?  And actually she did just push for a moment to demonstrate, and it felt totally different. So really, I have no idea what they do. 

The second 2 hour session this afternoon was more painful. It was with 2 different therapists. One concentrated on my right leg and abdomen, which were both sore and tight. The other did more abdomen work and some craniosacral therapy on my head and neck. But its a good pain because I know this is helping.

Its amazing how bunched up my muscles and organs are. I'm so glad I'm doing this so that I can have hope that my organs will be freed up so they can have good blood flow and work as they are supposed to!

OK, time for my prescribed Epsom salts bath. Then bed, because I am WIPED OUT.

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Boiling over the freezer people

OK, now I'm fuming mad.

I got a call on Thursday from the long term embryo storage place that my RE uses, saying my frozen embryo had been transferred to them, but as I was a single person I needed to fill in a different form from the one I signed when I started the IVFs.

Yes, I have a frozen embryo and am still doing fresh cycles. But my RE doesn't give good odds for having anything to transfer if we do a frozen cycle with just one embryo, because they don't always survive the thaw. And we both decided that it was best to keep trying with the fresh cycles while my eggs are under 40, in case I get lucky and end up with another frozen embryo that would give me a better chance later for a sibling. If we ever succeed at getting me pregnant with #1, that is!

First of all, I'm pretty annoyed that the embryo has been transferred without advanced notice, but I guess it was created in my April cycle so it's coming up to 6 months old and I probably signed some sort of agreement to that. Of course, they want a $400 annual fee for storing the embryo, which is payable NOW. And the amount is the same whether I have one lonely little frostie as I have, or 15.

But what is really ticking me off is the consent form for a "single client depositor" arrived in the mail today. It is totally different from the form for a couple. It has to be notarized for a start, which is pretty fucking annoying. Then, it says that to release the embryos back to my RE for placement into me, I have to have another fucking notarized form and I have to complete serology/virology tests required by the company. WTF? This is my embryo, I had to have HIV tests done before creating it, as did the sperm donor, my RE requires me to have annual HIV tests to keep on their books, and now another company can decide to make me have yet more fucking tests at their discretion to put my HIV-free embryo into my proven HIV-free body. Grrrr. Hopefully they'd take the RE's requirement as good enough, but what if they don't?

However, the worst thing is that there's now no option for donating the embryo to scientific research in the event of my death, or at my choosing. So, if I was in a couple my embryo would be worthy of research, but as I'm single it's the fucking trash for it or nothing? Actually, I lie here, there is an option for embryo donation, but there are so many hoops to jump through, including that me (magically prior to my death) and the donor both have to have gone through the company's required serology/virology tests too, in addition to completing medical histories and screening requested by the company, and the company, in its sole discretion, determines that the applicable standards for donation have been met. Yeah, like that is at all possible. I guess if they decide that the sperm donor's history is not good enough, that's the end of that, because there's no chance of contacting him for more info now, is there? Oh, and it looks like they choose the donor agency/recipient, so I'm not sure how I'd give them to a friend or family member if that was what I wanted to do.

It just seems unfair. I mean, probably none of this matters in the long run. I can't see me having any more than 2 or 3 frozen embryos in total, even if the next cycle is an amazing success. I have always figured I will do a frozen cycle at some point to use my little frostie(s), even if I end up with twins from my next cycle. [Hey, a girl can dream, right?] So if everything goes according to plan, I won't die, and there won't be leftovers that I will be agonizing about when my family is complete. But still, I want to be able to direct where my frozen offspring will end up. I don't want it/them just trashed, even if I'm dead. What an unnecessary waste that would be, when it/they could potentially help in some small way if it/they were used for research. And I'm sorry, but I don't want them to be donated to an agency. If they get donated at all, I want to have some control over that too - like I want to be able to specify that they go to a friend or family member, or a fellow SMC, or a lesbian or gay couple, or pretty much to anyone other than organizations like Snowflakes and their "religious" agenda.

Procrastination

So, what do you do when it's 6.30pm on a Friday night, you've got another 20-30 hours of work to get through before you go on vacation on Sunday afternoon, and your Saturday is already booked up?

You go home and drink wine, is what you do. Fuck it all. Why should I torture myself when it's not all going to get done anyway. I'll get some of it done on Saturday night and Sunday morning, and the rest can just wait until I get back.

Playing tag

I've been tagged, by the very wonderful Calliope. Little old me! A real tag! Oooh, I feel all grown up in the blogger word now. Anyway, I'm supposed to use four words she selected and tell you something deep and meaningful about myself.

Magic
I actually believe in magic. Always have done, probably always will do. Maybe that's why I love Harry Potter so much, because there's a part of me that thinks that somewhere some people perhaps do have the ability to make things happen in that way. I know on a more down-to-earth level that changes in energy can be worked by people doing Wiccan rites, and that that can be called magic. But my belief in magic extends beyond that, to the feeling that maybe witches of old could do amazing things, and that maybe people who can do that are out there still. Anyway, it's nice to dream about riding on a broomstick, and pointing a magic wand to make something change in the world.

Elevator
There was a story on CNN a few years ago about a surgical intern who got decapitated as he stepped into an elevator in the hospital in which he worked. There was a woman trapped in the elevator for about 20 minutes. I now think of this story literally every time I get in an elevator. I mean, how on earth does it happen? The doors must have been closing super fast to trap him, or was he trying to rush into the elevator late? And was the woman trapped with the guy's head or his body? Can you imagine what that must have been like to have been in there with just his head, having just witnessed that? I'd have been in absolute hysterics. Not to mention that it must have hurt the poor guy terribly. So, not such a big elevator fan these days.

Humble
I really don't like when people use IMHO when posting on the internet. I mean, what's wrong with IMO? Why do we have to hear your humble opinion? What on earth is humble about it? It seems to me that what they're really saying is that their opinion is anything but humble so you'd better darn well listen, and it therefore strikes me as arrogant. People who are truly humble don't have to tell other people about the fact of their humbleness. [Is that a word?] They just quietly get on with it.

Perfect
I struggle with this one. I wish I was perfect in so many ways, and I struggle to try to make myself so. I try to be perfect about eating, about exercising, doing my job, having that work/life balance. Mostly, if I'm being honest, I think that perfection may lead to me getting knocked up somehow so that's why I strive for it. Like karma will give me payback if I rack up enough perfection points. I certainly could care less about perfection in other areas of my life. I am not a snappy dresser, I don't use much makeup, I don't wear anything uncomfortable, I don't try to make an effort to impress people. So why do I beat myself up if I don't take all the vitamins I think I should take in a day? Why do any of us strive for perfection, when it's pretty well unattainable?

OK, I'm supposed to be tagging four more people. But I don't know four bloggers who a) haven't already been tagged, and b) might actually stumble on this blog every now and then. I'm pretty sure most of the bloggers I read don't have a clue who I am. [Is that me being humble, or just annoyingly pathetic!]. So, I'll just say if you want to be tagged, leave me a comment and I'll be more than happy to think up some words I'd like you to write on.

I hate everyone (except you, of course)

I'm having one of those "I hate everyone" days. Is it just me that has them or is this normal? It's like I'm PMS'ing, but given that I am most definitely not PRE-menstrual, who knows why I'm so irritated? Well, actually, as I was writing that I just remembered that I had a very disturbing dream last night, so I'm probably suffering from lack of sleep which is what's causing the bad mood. It was just a stupid "everyone can see that I'm having my period and more embarrassingly, using a pad, which no-one over the age of 13 should use" type dreams, which somehow evolved into someone going postal and shooting me. Bizarre. Maybe I need to work on some issues there!

But seriously, ignoring the effects of the lack of restful sleep, I hate everyone. My friend K. came back to work (part-time) from maternity leave (yay!), and her and the boss have just had a meeting deciding how the work is going to be portioned out. Which is fine, except they don't feel a need to tell anyone else, so I have to force the boss to tell me so I know what the eff is going on. And, K. is going to be part time, so it just doesn't make sense to have her responsible for everything she was before, because she's just not going to be here every day. I wish they wouldn't concoct these little schemes between themselves because frankly there's not much logic going on between them.

I hate people on fertility message boards that are so wrapped up in themselves that they don't listen to what anyone says, and repeat the same damn questions over and over again. There's one in particular that is about to go on my "ignore" list that was previously reserved for the certifiably insane. Well, maybe she is certifiably insane, I don't know, but I am so tired of her. I wish she would just go to another RE so she doesn't have to keep complaining about how the RE doesn't do what she wants him to. Hello? He's the one with the MD and the years of specialization in this field. And you want to do what you want, based on information you haven't even properly understood from an internet message board?

I hate people that whine and moan for days on end about how their second IUI failed, and how god damned awful it is that it is taking sooo long to get pregnant. I'm sure I did the same when I was a naive newbie, and I hate myself for that, but I wish they would realize that while it IS god damned awful and they have every right to complain, there are others of us out here who have been trying for far longer and who might be ticked off by the fact that there's no recognition going on that it is god damned awful for all of us and that some of us might be feeling worse than they are.

I hate everyone that can start a diet like The Sonoma Diet and drop 10 pounds in 10 days. Seriously, were you living on Big Macs before? Because I'm doing this thing right and the scale is not budging. I am the Queen of healthy eating this week, and nothing is happening. Sigh.

I hate people that don't procrastinate and don't spend far too much of their day surfing. I wish I could concentrate so I could do the work I'm paid for and move on instead of having to work late to finish up.

In other words, I need a vacation, damn it, because I'm clearly stressed to all hell. Deep breath. I can do this. I can get through this crazy pile of files. Somehow. I will recharge my batteries, have my abdomen pulled and prodded and come back a new woman. I hope.

Anatomic anomaly

Thanks for the kind thoughts yesterday. That was sweet of you, and much appreciated. :)

Yesterday I got distracted pretty much all day because I got hold of the typed up report of my laparoscopic surgery that I had done a year ago, because the people at Clear Passage want to see it. I was a bit shocked to see that it described the layout of my tubes and ovaries as an "anatomic anomaly". I mean, the RE had told me that my tubes and ovaries were in the wrong place, but I just thought they'd moved a bit - I have a retroverted uterus, which after all is a perfectly normal alternative position for the uterus to be in, so I figured they'd just flopped over with the uterus, or were mis-placed because they were stuck to my abdomen. But no, the tubes are short, and stretched to their maximum length instead of being curved, and the ovaries are just plain in the wrong place. Even though the lefty was free to move about, apparently it just liked being in the wrong place. The righty was stuck to the abdomen wall. Maybe lefty just wanted to keep it company? The report makes mention of this possibly interfering with ovum pickup. Which was all a bit of a surprise, really, and even today I'm having difficulty getting my head around having a bit of me described as an anatomic anomaly. I guess it's a good thing that I'm doing IVF.

At least it said my va-jay-jay was normal. Which, while reassuring, is also not necessarily the sort of thing you want to see in writing. Because it means that the doc had a good look. I mean, I knew he did - he did a laparoscopy and hysteroscopy after all, but to read a typed up report of it is a tad disconcerting. I have decided I don't like seeing my medical records!

As far as today goes, nothing much going on. I keep writing impossibly long lists of all the things I need to finish at work before I leave for Gainesville, and then being given other urgent projects to work on. So I think a lot of it isn't going to get done. Oh well, if they fire me, at least that's the decision made as to whether I stay here or not.

The anniversary

First things first, lets get the Monday weigh-in out of the way. 175. Same as yesterday, but yeehaw, it is down! OK, so it's taken me 5 weeks to lose 3 pounds, which is not exactly great going, but I'd have given up by now if it wasn't for the self-inflicted public humiliation of the Monday weigh-in. And at least it's moving in the right direction. Slow and steady wins the race, and all that.

But, what's really on my mind today (apart from it being CD1, WTF is with the 12-day luteal phase?) is that today is the anniversary of my mom's death. It feels quite poignant to me this year, because I really really wanted to have a child by now, or to be pregnant by now. You see, this year I passed the age that she was when she died. I desperately wanted to have a child by the time I was that age, or to give birth at that age, or to be pregnant at that age, or to get knocked up at that age. Sadly, none of that came to pass. It's odd, because my brother was convinced he wasn't going to live beyond that age (and has, quite frankly, been living as if he has a death wish because of it, so I wouldn't be surprised if he did die young). I, on the other hand, wanted to celebrate that age with giving life to another human being. To complete the circle as it were. And it tears at my heart that it was not to be. No, I passed 37.5 without any of my little dreams and wishes on that score coming true. But now that I have passed that age, it also saddens me even more that she had to die so young. When you're a young child, your parents seem like they have lived forever, but dying younger than 40 is just tragic.

Anyway, happy anniversary mummy - 26 years today. The largeness of that number makes me catch my breath more and more every year. It's hard to believe it's really been that long. But I know that there's no more pain where she is, and that she's with me still, so that gives me comfort.

Holy cow, the leek soup really IS miraculous!

I actually managed to stick to the leek thing yesterday, because I wasn't ravenously hungry, which in itself is a miracle. And I lost 2.5 lbs in a day, so I'm at the weight I told Clear Passage I was. OK, I know it's mostly water weight, but hallelujah, internet, halle-freakin'-lujah! And I know the really hard part will be not to gain it back again immediately on Monday. But I'm game to try.

I guess the name "miracle leek soup" really was accurate after all. Who'd a thunk it?

Having a leeky day

I have a confession to make. I have not been good at dieting this week. I have eaten a little too much pasta, and not enough veggies. I've had a few too many bowls of cereal. I had a slice of apple pie yesterday. So, I decided that in order to not have a weight gain to post come Monday morning, I'd better do something drastic this weekend. That, and in my patient intake form for Clear Passage I put down a little white lie as to what my weight was. I thought I'd be well below that weight by the time I got there, but I'm above it, and well, I don't like to be caught in a lie!

I therefore decided that this would be miracle leek soup weekend. From the book French Women Don't Get Fat. You basically boil up some leeks and live on it until Sunday night, when you can have that old diet standby of a "sensible dinner". Except I decided to have one hard boiled egg for breakfast every day because I don't think I can just live on leeks and watery leek broth alone.

Anyway, so far so good, except I'm tired, as I always am every time I have tried to fast. But what's bugging me is that I've got a raging headache. Now, in England, most women it seems are into "detoxing" every now and then. It's a big thing. All the women's magazines recommend it. I don't see so much mention of it in America, but maybe they just call it something else. I think living on leek soup for a weekend would definitely count as detoxing though. I always used to get raging headaches when detoxing, which I put down firmly to caffeine withdrawal. But I don't drink caffeine any more, apart from maybe one hot chocolate a week and a very occasional Starbucks iced chai. I think since I kicked the post-IVF#1 (or #2 depending on how I'm counting) badness, I've had one iced chai. In the last two months. So where is this effing headache coming from? I thought it might be a dehydration headache, but I've been drinking plenty of water, and this just doesn't feel the way my dehydration headaches do. It feels exactly like a caffeine withdrawal headache. Which begs the question: what toxic substance am I ingesting on a regular basis that would cause this reaction? It can't be the milk, surely, as I've given up milk before and not had a problem. I've also given up wheat before and not had a problem. I eat a pretty varied diet, I think, and I can't think of any one thing I have every day. I have a lot of peppermint tea at work, but usually just drink water at the weekends, and don't normally have a weekend headache. And that's about it for something I have every day.

Hmmm, maybe we just aren't supposed to spend a day living on leeks? Must try not to use that as an excuse for kicking this crazy idea and pigging out on something scrumptious.

4WW and milksnot

Well, look at that, I'm turning all 21st century, blogging from my Blackberry! Aaaah, now I can spam the blog with random inconsequential thoughts at all hours of the day and night.

But anyway, just called Repromedix, who are doing my immune testing, and they told me that the longest turn around time on the tests I'm having done is 3-4 weeks! So the latest the doctor will have all my results is October 11th. That's an age away! And of course, my doc is bound not to call every time a new test result comes in, but will no doubt wait until they are all back before wanting to discuss it with me. In fact, what am I thinking, he won't call at all, will he? He's a busy, important RE, and I'm not pregnant yet, so why would he call me? Looks like I'll be asking the nurse for my test results when I go in for my CD2 appointment sometime around October 16th-18th (ish). Gah. That's a long time to wait.

In other news, I have been very snotty lately. All sinusy and post-nasal drippy. Not very cool. But I have been drinking more milk recently, because of the wheat cereal thing on The Sonoma Diet. Yes, I know I said I wasn't going to keep eating it, but it is yummy and I'm weak, so there. But the real point to this is that I think that the sinusy stuff may be related to the milk intake (either that, or I'll be posting tomorrow that I'm laid low with a cold). I've never really made the link before, and I wonder if this could actually help. I mean, the acu has always said to give up dairy, and I never did. In fact, before this last IVF cycle which had the very sucky embryo quality, I ate a LOT of ice cream. Maybe it's all connected. So, I'm going to give up dairy, at least until I go to this conference in Sweden (yes, I am still going, though I want to cry every time I think about it). I'm sure as a veggie in Sweden, it'll be hard to get lots of food that isn't dairy, so I'll have to go back on it agan. But looking on the bright side, that'll give me an opportunity to see if I get snotty again, and see if this really is linked, and then I can give it up for the IVF cycle after I get back. So, grand experiment #549 in "maybe this will get me pregnant"-ology will be offiically underway tomorrow!

Blackberry jam

Hey there, just testing the whole posting by email thing so I can keep all 3 of my loyal readers (including me) updated while I'm out of town. Just think! Drunken typing from Sweden! Blow-by-blow accounts of anal massage from Gainesville! Bet ya can't wait...
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e flipping harmony

So, the last time I actually tried seriously to find a man, just before I started TTC'ing, I joined eharmony. I couldn't seem to connect with anyone, got one of my coworkers as a match (who I knew I did NOT want to date), and generally gave it up after a few feeble efforts at communicating with inappropriate guys. Since then they've sent me a few "matches" at random intervals over the years, as an enticement to join back up again. This time, just after my IVF BFN, I started getting matches again. In fact, I got about eight matches over the space of two days. I ignored them. Apart from heaving a little sigh at the rotten timing of it all - just when I have my spirits ground down by another IVF failure, why not send me emails reminding me that I don't have anyone to share my sorrow with? Great timing, universe.

Then I get an email today saying that Russ from a town near me wanted to communicate. Just for shits and giggles I logged on, to see if it would let me see his details without paying. I couldn't see the photo without paying, but hey. And nothing he put in the profile that I was able to see matched up with anything I would have gone for had I been a picky husband-hunter looking for lifelong companionship and good genetic stock for her babies, as I used to be. But then, I'm doing IVF now with donor sperm, I'm not that desperate any more for good genes, or what seems to be more rare, a single guy in his 40's who actually wants kids. So I thought I'd answer Russ' questions to me. And it let me fill in my answers before the site closed down on me and demanded payment. And if you pay month-by-month it is $59.95!! Holy crap!

Bah humbug. I mean, I am desperate for some sex, I would still like to meet a husband at some point, but honestly I don't know if it's worth forking over $60 just to see if this guy wants to meet up. I could probably do just as good hanging out at the bar in my hotel in Gainesville. Except that I'm not very good at flirting, so that'll probably get me nowhere fast.

But what really gets me is that I wonder if these guys know that I'm not even a member any more. Does this site get their hopes up that they have a match, and then leave them hanging when the person doesn't respond? I would think that would not be good for your ego, because you'd think it was something about you that the person didn't like. I know I felt deflated on that site if someone didn't respond to me. Is this how they inflate their numbers of matches? That if you cancel your membership you can still be in the database years later with your details sent out to any random guy in the area? It just doesn't seem to be a very honest, or kind, way of dealing with your members. And definitely does not give me the warm fuzzies about joining again.

Oh, and the coworker I got matched up with initially? He got married on Saturday to a girl he met on the same site, just after our ill-fated match was emailed to both of us. Thankfully they've both moved to a different city now, but I used to meet up with them for Sunday breakfast, and they'd be all smug about how it worked for them, and tell me I should give it another go. Bah humbug indeed. I bet she'll get knocked up on honeymoon, just to really rub salt in my wounds.

Blood draw

It was the best blood draw ever. Except it hurt, but hey.

The guy turned up at 6.55am, sat in the car for five minutes, came in a 7am and was gone at 7.08am. He drew six vials of blood for the immune/clotting tests, and will FedEx them off to the lab today. I'd managed to get dressed in my walking clothes, clean my teeth and comb my hair. I looked fairly presentable for 7am, I think. Of course, I didn't actually go walking after the guy left, as I thought it wouldn't be very good to faint while out of the house so I slumped on the sofa and read a book while munching toast and marmite. Not that I was in danger of fainting, as I've had way more than 6 vials drawn without a problem, but it seemed like a plausible excuse for toast-munching at the time. I have no idea when I will get the results. Presumably sometime in the next two months. I'm sure someone will tell me if things are bad.

It was so so nice to have this all done at my house (apart from the cleaning I ended up doing last night, but at least I have a nice sparkly house now). So much easier than traipsing to the RE's, hanging about in the waiting room forever, getting the blood drawn, hanging out to check out just in case you have to pay, schlepping back through rush hour traffic, being stressed because you're late to work.

Of course, now I'm secretly worried that the glass of red wine I had last night will make my blood all thin and make the clotting tests inaccurate, because I won't be drinking red wine at embryo implantation time. And I was secretly worried about that yesterday, and still couldn't resist pouring myself a glass. I did limit myself to one glass though, but sometimes I seriously wonder if I have an alcohol problem. Why couldn't I just have not had any? Sure, I can give it up with no difficulty. I've gone months without drinking (when I thought that little things like that would actually get me pregnant). But if I'm in a drinking phase, sometimes looking forward to that glass is what gets me through the day. So I drank some. So there. Oh well, if I have a real clotting problem I'm sure the revasterol in one measly glass won't turn it into an "all clear" result. I hope.

Little white haired old lady

I may be imagining it, but I seem to have a lot more white hair than I did this time last year. I looked in the mirror yesterday and it seemed like they were just jumping out all over the place. I can't help but think that this is what IVF has done to me - aged me prematurely.

Dagnammit.

I mean, I saw my first white hair when I was 28, and for basically nine years of the last 10, nobody else has been able to spot them. I'd get maybe one or two more a year. And then this last year? They've been multiplying like rabbits. It's now obvious to everyone that I have plenty of the little buggers, especially around my hairline around my face. Just of course the spot you don't want them in - I wouldn't mind so much if they were all clustered on the nape of my neck, for example.

All right, OK, I am exaggerating a tad. Of course, it doesn't help that the bathroom at work is lit just so, with the light shining down on top of your head, so it picks them up better than any other bathroom I regularly stand in. Mostly my hair is still its natural color. It's probably only me for whom the white hairs shine out really brightly. Most people probably don't see every single white hair the way I do. They probably only notice a few strands, if I'm being really honest. But to me, I look in the mirror, and I look old.

I always thought I would go gray (well, white, I don't seem to have any gray ones) gracefully. That I wouldn't dye my hair. That I'd be one of those cool ladies with elegant white hair in my fifties. Not that anything else about me is elegant, but I have this vision of looking somewhat like Meryl Streep in that fabulous wig she wore for The Devil Wears Prada, so bear with me here. But now it's getting to the point where I really need to take a firm decision on this.

To dye or not to dye, that is the question?

If I actually manage to get pregnant, do I want to be the white-haired mom picking up my kids from elementary school? Well, presumably the salt-and-pepper haired mom, because I doubt it's all going to get to elegant white that quickly. But then, with the number of "advanced maternal age" moms who ARE successful these days, maybe I won't be so out of place. Do I want to totally embarrass my teenagers by being the fusty older mom? Assuming that is, that my visions of hip elegance don't come to pass, and I just end up fat and middle aged. I never wanted to be the fat middle aged white-haired mom.

If I actually want to meet a guy, do I want them to dismiss me instantly because I'm going white, or will I only attract men in their sixties who think I'm older than I am? I mean, I think men with gray hair can look very attractive, but there's that old sexism thing going on that women need to try to look younger. Especially in the silicone-enhanced fake-tanned blonde mecca of South Florida.

But then again, there's that old stubborn streak that thinks that after feminism I should be perfectly entitled to go white haired if I want to. That I should stand firm to my beliefs. That I should give full reign to my lazy side that just doesn't want to be bothered with dyeing my damn hair. That this is the way I am made, and if I'm supposed to be going white haired, so be it.

Knowing me, I'll probably put off making a decision for a while yet, and then I'll get to the point where everyone will know that I'm dyeing my hair to cover the white ones, rather than to just introduce a nice auburn highlight, and I'll feel all shameful about doing that so it'll never happen. But, hey, delaying has always worked for me in the past, so why change now?

On reading and other things

Monday weigh-in: 176.5

Down a bit, finally! Clearly I'm not going to be dropping anywhere near as much weight as I wanted to, but oh well. At least I'm eating healthily, and that's the main thing.

I spent most of Sunday reading, after a stocking-up trip to Barnes & Noble. Going there really makes me miss Waterstones, though, as Waterstones (in England) used to always entice me with lots of nice book selections. At B&N I always seem to have to wade through piles and shelves of crap to find something I want to read. Why is it that the most they can imagine is a table full of "beach reading"? What about those of us that want thought-provoking new books?

Anyway, it brought to mind something that happened on Friday, which made me laugh. We are having a new software upgrade at work, so there were mandatory training sessions at the end of last week. But as we were setting up for the training session I was in, one of the guys made a comment about the trainer's email inbox being visible on the large display screen, and how we were all busy reading her stuff. She said it was all pretty boring, though there was one from a friend of hers in Iraq that was probably a joke. So we begged to read the joke. She put it on screen. It was one of those jokes that was a lengthy paragraph. We all started to read. I laughed first. Then a buddy of mine laughed. Then it kind of went around the room as everyone got to the bottom of the screen. The trainer also finished reading, and closed it down. And then the very guy who insulted me by email asked her to open it again because he hadn't finished. I'm not kidding, he took at least 3 times as long as me to read one paragraph.

Now, I read fucking fast, I know this. People seem to be in awe of just how fast I can read. I don't usually notice it, because, well, that's just how I read. I'm not trying to impress anyone - it comes of being a voracious reader all through my childhood and teens. I'm still a voracious reader, though often I only read at the weekends because my brain is fried at the end of the work day. But it definitely made me chuckle that the idiot who likes to send out sarcastic emails can't even begin to keep up.

And on to more serious stuff. Today is, of course, the 5-year anniversary of 9/11. I have no idea how to post on that, apart from to say that it is just heart-wrenchingly sad that we lost so many lives on that day. But also I wish to say that all victims of all atrocities should be remembered, and not just the American ones. Darfur, Iraq, Chechnya, Lebanon, Israel, to name a few, are ongoing humanitarian crises brought about because one side thinks it's OK to kill people on the other side. I just wish people would stop inflicting violence on one another in the name of religion and freedom. Last time I looked, all the major religions teach peacefulness, and yet we routinely kill and maim one another regardless.

I was kind of numb on 9/11, partly because it was so hard to believe what happened, and partly because I had just moved house and didn't have TV at home. So I felt isolated and disconnected. It took me a long time to take in the enormity of what happened. I also felt disconnected from my American friends sense of the loss of security, which really seemed to bond them together. That realization that terrorism could happen on home soil. As someone growing up during the time of the IRA attacks, and now with family in Northern Ireland, as someone who has heard 2 terrorist bombs go off, and been evacuated from a city where a massacre that I narrowly missed took place, I never had that sense of safety. So, it was as much of a shock to me to find out that, yes, most people here had never even contemplated that they could be a target, as it was to be sad that now they had lost that innocence.

So, anyway, let's just all give a thought to the people who died. And hope that it never happens again. Ever. Anywhere.

A light trim

My "patient companion" book arrived yesterday from Clear Passage Therapies. They have sent me so much stuff over the last couple of weeks that I'm kind of drowning in information. I was contemplating not looking through the book. But, as I know that some of the work they do involves "internal" work, I was intriged by the "what to expect" sections in case it gave some hints as to what this actually involves. And it did.

But as I was browsing further there was a "preparing yourself before treatment" section. And there at the bottom of a page it said that for internal work, it is easier for the therapist and more comfortable for the patient if the patient's pubic hair is "lightly trimmed" before attending.

My first thought was "what the fucking fuck?" Ahem, not too eloquent I'll admit, but as a Friday night treat I'd had too much vino so the old synapses probably weren't firing as well as they could have. Anyway, I couldn't quite figure out what a light trim could possibly mean in relation to your pubic hair. Did they mean to take a bit of length off, or did they mean that I should trim the edges so to speak. In other words, was a Brazilian in my future? Eek. I don't think I'm quite ready for that. But then I figured that they must mean the length because if they've got a couple of fingers up your hoo-ha and they're pushing on your hip at the same time, you wouldn't want some hair to get caught and pulled. Ouch! But then, how much length? A light trim in relation to the hair on my head doesn't equal very much percentage of the length. Was I to apply the same rule? What if I got to the clinic and they said it wasn't trimmed enough? What if I completely butchered the job? What if my RE did a double-take if I turned up at my next appointment completely bald? Should I call the poor receptionist and demand that she explain how much pubic hair exactly did that mean I needed to remove? And why did I have to do one more annoying/degrading thing just to get knocked up?

But then I decided to stop being so stupid and just cut the effing stuff. I mean, how badly could I really misinterpret "lightly trimmed"? But, thinking that I could very well make a hatchet job of it, with uneven bits and bald spots, I figured that there was no time like the present and I may as well just get down to it right now because I've still got a couple of weeks before treatment so it could grow out a little and I could re-trim it if necessary. Kind of like topiary.

No, I didn't trim my pubic hair while drunk. Who do you think I am? Tsk tsk to you for even thinking it.

This morning before my shower I therefore sat down with a comb and a pair of scissors. Yes, a comb. And I set about performing a good trim. I'm rather proud of the job, even if I do say so myself. It doesn't even look uneven. Thanks to the comb. I might even keep it this way if I wasn't so damn lazy. But I have to say that this is one time where you guys wouldn't be getting a pic even if I did have a digital camera.

The vampires are coming!

I have my blood draw appointment for the immunology testing. It's going to happen next Wednesday at 7am. Yup, 7am. At my house.

The nice lady on the phone initially said they could do appointments between 8am and 11.30am, but then came back and said they could fit me in early if I did a 7am. I was like, huh? 7am at my house? Will the person expect me to have showered and to be properly dressed? Because let's face it internet, that's not likely to have happened by 7am. And she assured me that showering was not necessary. I guess I can drag a comb through the frizzy nightmare that is my hair when I first wake up, and clean my teeth. Maybe I can throw on some sweats so that I am somewhat decently attired.

It's such an alien concept that some guy is going to be drawing my blood at my dining table. At 7am. Wouldn't it be nice if RE's offered this service? If they could turn up with a mobile ultrasound, do the quick blood draw for the E2 and voila! Although I suppose ultrasound machines are pretty big, so it'd probably have to be a mobile ultrasound van, and I'm not sure I want a dildocam experience in the driveway, so maybe we should just scratch that idea.

Still here

I wish I had some deep thoughts or interesting happenings to talk about, but not much is going on with me. Yesterday I had another busy day at work and didn't leave till 8.45. Much better than 11pm, but still not exactly what I enjoy doing. Today is a bit calmer, so I have spent time opening up the 90 or so unopened emails and faxes that accumulated while I was in crazy mode for the last two days (and yes, I was opening some emails while I was working). It's quite ridiculous how much stuff comes in and out of this place every day, AND quite ridiculous that we are expected to keep up with it all.

I have called the immune testing place to try to set up an appointment for my blood draws, but they haven't called back with a time yet. They actually come to your house, which will be nice - no racing off at 7am to Quest to sit in a huge line with the usual weirdos you meet in those places.

The fibro is doing well today, so I'm hoping it's due to the enzymes I've now been taking for a week and a half. Obviously, there's a way to go yet, but I'm not in terrible pain, and have managed to stay up late the last two nights in a row, so that's a good thing.

I can't figure out if I've ovulated yet or not. Probably not. Which could seriously create havoc for the Clear Passage trip. Oh well, if I have to reschedule until the end of October, c'est la vie. I've decided to try not to stress about it too much.

I also spoke to the RE's office, and was told I need to schedule the saline sonogram for the time between my period and ovulation. Which is just when I'm planning to go to Clear Passage, but given that I may have to reschedule that, maybe I can still fit the SIS in before I go to Sweden. I expect they don't want to wash out any potential embryos, so maybe they'll let me do it after ovulation when I come back from my trip if I explain that there ain't no sex going on around here, so there definitely won't be any potential embryos, but they usually refuse to stray from their rules on these things.

So that's it. All very ho-hum and boring. That's the trouble with break months, you just have to tick along and bide your time until it's all systems go again.

My job sucks

I really hate my job sometimes. Well, pretty much most of the time. But I stick it out because I want to stay in the U.S. and I can't change jobs now until I get my green card. Which could still be a couple of years away.

Today I had to take sarcastic abuse from one of the bigwigs in an email that was copied to several people. Fucker. I'm so mad. It was about this conference in Sweden that I'm attending for the firm, which I get no personal benefit from, and for which, I might add, my employer is NOT PAYING. Even though I got my budget request in well ahead of time, I found out after my boss had whined at me to book early on the promise that the money would be coming that in fact it had NOT been approved, because I submitted it to the person in charge of the office budget, and not my department's budget. Even though my head of department told me to submit it to the person in charge of the office budget. Even though any one of them could have told me earlier that I needed to resubmit it. And of course now it is near the end of the fiscal year and I'm told that there's no money left.

I complained to the big boss department head, who told me that that the abuse was just this guy's personality, and I just had to "take it". At least he didn't add "like a man". Grrreat. And he said he'd see about getting me some money because the department didn't have a budget so it should have gone in the office budget. Uh, yeah, like hell the department doesn't have a budget. But then he waffled on for some time about my status in the company and basically tried to change the subject.

I am seriously thinking of canceling the trip, but my boss has canceled because of his personal "stuff" and is pleading with me to still go because someone needs to meet with our team's clients. Frankly I'm at the point where if he wants me to go I think he needs to not only pay my way but also pay me danger money for having to hang out with the sarcastic arsehole who is going.

And now I'm in a lot more fibromyalgia pain because I let it get me stressed. Stress is not good for me! Plus, I have so much to do that I'm going to be here reeeeally late tonight, meaning that I'll miss the season premiere of House.

*Sigh*

I guess I could always go back to England, but then I can't get IVF done as easily. I just feel so trapped here, and so miserable sometimes.

Ain't life grand?

***ETA: 9.46pm and still at work with no sign of going home yet. Ain't life grand?***

***ETA: 11.09pm, and finally going home, although I'm leaving a large stack of work that must be done tomorrow, so tomorrow is going to be just as busy. And I'm starving, as I haven't had dinner. Oh well, at least it helps that I have a caring employer who will thank me for putting in extra hours. Sigh. ***

Monday weigh in

Hahahahaha, I SUCK really badly at dieting! I weighed 178.5 this morning. So, it was up again! But then again, I haven't been dieting over the past week, as there's been the fibromyalgia fatigue problem preventing me from exercising, and the storm, meaning I was eating bad food. Yes, my office bribed us with free pizza which I was too weak to resist and that set off a cascade of poor choices. But, I am back at it today, and in fact ate pretty healthily over the weekend. So I have been walking, albeit not for as far as I would normally go, but the important thing is that I got out of bed and did it.

I feel I have a bit more energy over the past two days, and the fibro pain seems a bit less too. I hope it's these enzymes I started taking on Friday night, but it'll be pretty obvious soon if it's the enzymes or just a relaxing weekend.

I gardened!

I did it, I actually got off my butt and did something. Quite an achievement for a Sunday these days. I ripped out some more of the disgusting bushes that the previous owners of my house surrounded it with. I have no idea what they're called, though someone said to me they were elephant ears. Anyway, they send out roots from every 2 inches of the stem of the plant, so after a few years there's just this jungle of fibrous roots spreading out in every direction, and they're very tough to remove. I've now just got one left, having ripped out a good 40 feet worth of these damn things since I moved in. It's been slow going. And they don't even flower or smell nice, so there are no redeeming features as far as I can see. Except perhaps that you don't need to do any weeding, because they choke all other plants out.

So, in their place, I put Ruellia, Cuban buttercups, Golden shrimp plants, some lavender colored lillies, marigolds, and a few other things I have now forgotten the names of. But they were all classed as "Florida friendly plants" meaning that the butterflies and hummingbirds like them, and they don't suck up gallons and gallons of water just to stay alive in the heat. If I was being really good I'd put in native plants only, but they're pretty hard to find, and I've always been a sucker for flowers and butterflies. I'm going for a purple and yellow/orange flower scheme at the front of the house, because purple is my favorite color, and the house is yellow/orange, so it seems to match. I have already put in some Ruellia, a golden colored Ixora, a blue Porterweed, some scarlet Milkweed (for Monarch butterfly caterpillers to eat) and a couple of ginger plants. I want lots and lots of flowers. I hope they don't all die or that my idiot yard guys rip them out, which does sadly happen sometimes. They are only supposed to mow the lawn and trim the hedges, but plants do have a tendency to disappear around here!

Sigh, if I only I weren't such a cheapskate, and had a digital camera, I'd give you pics. Maybe you'll get some later, when the plants have grown a bit. But don't hold your breath.

The consultation

I am back from my post-IVF meeting with my RE. Had to have a little cry on the way back, but that's just because I'm a sap, as we all know. It just seems so hard sometimes to hold on to hope when you're staring down IVF cycle #4 (or #3, depending on if we are counting the cancelled cycle).

The upshot of it all is that he thinks all my problems are due to aging crappy eggs. He mentioned donor eggs, though said he wasn't ready to give up on me yet but it was an option to think about. I said I'm not doing DE, as at that point, I'm done. I told him I'd do one more fresh cycle with them, maybe the frozen embryo transfer (although he said with only one frozen embryo there's only a 1 in 3 chance of making it to transfer), and then I'd go somewhere out of state with really good success rates. He looked a bit shocked at that, and said their success rates are really good. I said they were OK, as they're pretty average if you ask me. To which he countered that I was looking at the 2004 statistics, and the 2006 statistics are much much better. I asked why the change, and he said it is because of their new lab, which has all new equipment, better and more stable culture medium, the staff are more used to the procedures, etc. So that made me feel a bit better about them, but I'd still like to see these fab statistics written down! We joked that I wasn't exactly helping his stats any, but hey. Anyway, he said he didn't mind me seeking a second opinion or trying somewhere else at all, if that's what I wanted.

Sooo, onto the plan. We discussed my dominant follicle problems, and how I often have a 16mm follie on CD6, which is not good, and how my fast stimming and early egg retrievals could be contributing to the poor quality embryos. Because of all that we're going to try the long lupron protocol to try to get slower and more even follicle development. I asked about the studies that say microdose lupron worked better with poor responders. He said yes, but long lupron is their preferred "recipe" for everyone else, and it depended on what he was most worried about - the cycle I got 14 eggs I could hardly be classed as a poor responder, so maybe we should switch focus to the dominant follicles rather than thinking about the poor response. Besides, we've done 3 cycles of microdose lupron and I'm not pregnant. And on my two bad cycles I had early dominant follicles, so he said why not see if the long lupron would help with that. He even said we could ditch the lupron mid-cycle if I was oversuppressed and move to an antagon (Ganirelix) if we felt like it.

I will be doing a 3+3 protocol, so the same overall amount of stims as the last two cycles, but equal repronex to follistim, meaning slightly more LH. Or in other words, I will be shooting up with 3 vials of follistim and 3 vials of repronex a day. Plus lupron.

He wants me to do a saline infusion sonogram, to see if the recent midcycle bleeding is due to the polyps coming back. So, I'll do that next cycle. What fun. Another fun procedure of someone sticking something unpleasant up my cooter.

Then I said I should bring up the usual question of immune issues, though I felt a bit stupid talking about implantation when he'd just more or less said my eggs were crap (but in a nice way). He said he didn't mind running tests if I was worried, and the fact that I keep bringing it up obviously showed it was on my mind, but the thing he disagreed with was some of the treatments, which have not been shown to do any good. Like IVIg, which he said doesn't help. But, we decided we'd see if my insurance would cover it and/or if I could bear the costs on my own, and if I still wanted to do the tests, we'd do them and discuss further once the results are back. In fact, he had details of a lab that is new to them where you can pay a "safeguard price" that is a 75% discount on the full price if you pay up front, and if they get reimbursement you get the lot back. And they will go to your house for no extra charge to draw the blood. So I'm going to do the following tests for $706 and hope to get reimbursed:

Anti-coagulation antibodies
Anti-phospholipid antibodies
Lupus anti-coagulant
Anti-beta2Glycoprotein antibodies
Activated Partial Thromboplastin time
Embryo Toxic Factor assay
Natural Killer cell assay

So that's the big plan. I'll go on BCP in October after the period after next, or in other words, 2 full cycles break.

I'm a bit conflicted about the immune stuff. I mean, what's the point of testing if he doesn't want to do any treatment? I suppose if something did come back bad, he'd have to treat it, otherwise I'd complain a lot, and if miraculously everything is normal I can quit worrying about that. So I should be happy that he agreed to it. But still. I have this nagging doubt because he seems so adamant that it's not the answer.