I had big plans for this week in terms of blogging. I’d just gotten home from a relative’s wedding, which was a nice chance to get out of town for a few days and kick back with family. The wedding was gorgeous, the bride beautiful, the groom handsome, and both visibly happy and excited to get married. It was, in short, great. I was on a new stimulation cycle, hopeful, and I didn’t even mind that I had to do my Follistim injections in bathrooms at both the rehearsal dinner and wedding.
There were, however, a few clouds in the sky (both literal and metaphorical). Driving to the wedding, we had rain most of the way. Rain on twisting, turning mountain roads does not make driving easy. Also, Google maps told us a bit of a fib in terms of travel time: it turned out to be a 13 hour trip instead of an 11 hour one each way (for a total of four unplanned hours of drive time round trip).
When we finally got to the hotel, I pulled out my laptop. I planned during some downtime to do a post and participate in the GRABook club. Right about the time I booted up the laptop, I had reason to remember that my technology support family member had warned me that I was running on borrowed time. The fan had started to work strangely back last November, and after pulling apart the computer to look and blow the dust out, it was pronounced that the computer was going bad. It’s so old I probably couldn’t get parts to replace the dying ones.
The computer had a hard time booting up. Then things started to get messy. My shift keys wouldn’t function. The computer shut down abruptly from overheating. A number of other things made it very difficult to do any kind of word processing or internet browsing. I barely managed to get my GRABook post up, and after that, resigned myself to not having a working computer for the weekend. The laptop is well and truly unusable, so we found a reasonably priced replacement that I’m completely not ready for. I hate learning new operating systems.
When we got home, we had to continue to tackle a couple of situations I’m not going to get into in detail here, but suffice it to say, we are now looking for a new church. This is a very upsetting, difficult decision for both of us, and it’s hard making that kind of a transition to a new religious community especially during all the infertility problems.
I thought that we were done with major issues for the week. I was wrong. Last night, I woke up with a nasty stomach virus. During all the nausea and messiness, the evil, irrational part of my brain kept wondering if there was even the slightest infinitesimal chance that I was pregnant. The rational part of my brain knew that the symptoms were all wrong, and that I’d gone in for a follicle check ultrasound on Wednesday so there was positively 100% no way I could be pregnant. It makes me mad, though, that the thought even flitted across my mind. I’m still queasy, too.
To top it all off, we have today: another cycle cancelled. This cycle, Dr. D had put me on five days of Femara at 5 mg doses to try to keep my ovaries from exploding on the Follistim the way they did the last time. Then I had instructions to start Follistim at 75 units each evening. The first ultrasound, last Monday, went well. I had two 10 mm follicles, and they encouraged me that with the Femara, sometimes it takes longer to get mature follicles.
I went in Wednesday as well. My E2 level had dropped, and the follicles hadn’t grown. The doctor covering for Dr. D (who is out this week) put me on a higher dose of Follistim. I came back in today, and no dice. The follicles hadn’t grown, and while my E2 level had gone up a paltry bit, the doctor felt that I’d be wasting my time and my money to continue the cycle. He said I needed to talk with Dr. D next week to figure out where we go from here.
Out of now six medicated cycles, I have triggered once and cancelled every other time. Once, dammit. That’s not even counting another cancelled cycle I had because my ovaries got large cysts from the Follistim. This makes a total of six cancelled cycles out of seven attempted. I have words for that, but they’re the kind that cause paint to peel from the walls.
So I’m terrified. Completely bleeping terrified. I have a phone consult scheduled with Dr. D for next week, but I’m pretty sure where this goes next. It’s the letters I never wanted to hear: IVF. My ovaries do stimulate, but it seems as though we can’t find that 2-3 follicle happy place for IUI to be an option for us. It’s too many cancelled cycles, too many visits, too many drugs not to start seriously considering that IVF may be the best or only option now.
And I’m really, really, really scared of IVF and all that entails physically, financially, and mentally. What if we go through IVF and still come out with an empty womb? How much hell are my emotions and body going to go through with all this? What if that’s the end of the line for us? What about Arthur and his emotions?
In the weird, silly fears department, I’m afraid that Dr. D will say: “You’re a great candidate for IVF. I think we’ll be able to get you pregnant fairly quickly.” I’m afraid because that is what EVERY doctor has said to me before starting me on a new drug or treatment: “You look like you should respond, no problem, you’ll get pregnant.” That’s what was said about Clomid (flamed out), Femara (flamed out), and injectables (a little hope with the first cycle, and since then, disaster). What can I say, I do NOT want to hear that IVF ‘should’ work for me – let’s see it work, then I’ll be overjoyed if it does! Yes, I’m a little (okay, okay, more than a little) superstitious about this.
I’ll have to wait and see what Dr. D recommends come Tuesday…