In Peace

I am finally at peace with Deirdre - my forgotten ovary.  Last Friday she gave me a much needed dominant follicle and we had a lift-off at LH=42.  Deirdre started off as my nasty bitch from endometriosis hell, and then reduced to nothing, only to grow back six months later to give me minor pain and suffering.  She's now back on my follicle production line and I suspect she will stay there for as long as I need her because it is nature intended. 

If everything goes according to plan (yeah right, what plan?), we are looking at a transfer on thursday.

Eternal optimism and inner-calm dissipates.  Panic sets in.

Welcome to cycle numero 11.

Snail Trail

Its slowly happening.

Today is Day 345 into my FET cycle (or in realistic days, Day fucking 16).

Kath - if you are reading this I want you to know that they pumped me up with drugs again since my non-response after the first blood test on Day 7 - and I did what was told and didn't think much of it. You are right dude, nothing to loose here!

So the Puregon kicked in and started to get some follicles happening. The last scan two days ago showed five on the good ovary, but only two of them looks promising (12um), and two pissy little hairlike things on the little ovary. Oh and a large pocket of adhesions/fluids thrown in on the `where the bad ovary used to be' side for good measures. All these follicles you would think I am doing a fresh cycle. But no. Estrogen nicely climbing at 606.

So today I went in for another scan and needle torture, and something different came up today. The two `promising' follicles on the good ovary seems to have stalled and stopped growing, only 13um today. But the bad ovary seems to want to party too and ended up giving me what seems to be my dominant follicle. We have a 15um happening there. It's a fucking miracle, just goes to show the forces of nature. Estrogen at 786 today. LH moved to 12 and hopefully going up.

Me: `Is it going to happen? Like, am I really going to theatre?'
Coordinator: `Yes I think so, we just need to wait for the LH to keep climbing.'
Me: `I just don't want another let down. Something always happens, even if it is physically not possible I still manage to do it.'
Coordinator: `Drew you ARE going to theatre.'
Me: `Okay.'

I slept in this morning. Just before I woke up I dreamt I was playing with my neighbour's adopted Chinese girl. I was tickling her and felt really happy.

Then reality sank in - I slept through the alarm (how the fuck did I manage that?) and was late for the clinic.

If all goes well I am going to theatre to bring home my last embryos. From a team of eleven, now there's three.

I hope, hope hope hope hope, that one of you will become the apple in my (and Apeman's) eyes.

Here we go again

Was doing some thinking today (between my walk from the carpark to the office – which is like a 10 minute walk – quite pathetic).

 

I can sit here and mope around, be depressed, be crappy to Apeman, watch my marriage break down and die a lonely death.

 

Or

 

I can get out and do the things I do, buy more frigging shoes, go swimming, go do yoga, continue to be at the sidelines for friends who are well into their pregnancies, and be happy for them, and be happy with what I have. 

 

I choose the middle.

 

I shall continue with this bullcrap called in-vitro fertilisation, buy more frigging shoes, go do yoga, be crappy to Apeman – but whatever I choose to do my marriage is going to be a testimony of our love for each other.  At our wedding reception 6 years ago, Apeman said to me, in front of a rather large audience, that there are a lot of stars amongst the sky, but he has found his shooting star.  I guess he loved me.  And still does for as long as I am not injecting myself with Puregon.

 

Puregon is making me depressed.  This medication should be banned.

 

Day 7 today into my 10^th/11^th/12^th cycle (I can’t remember).   Will see how far we go.

Another Pause

Another perfect 28-day cycle came and went and I am still fruitless with everyone else around me getting pregnant or due to give birth, all due in March or April, all miracles conceived during the heightened months of my pain. All Beckys and Marys are cradling their bundles of joy and grinning from the cover of heftily lifted magazines. I scream silently in defeat and ask for mercy.

All I am left with is a soaked pad of sadness and a spectacular shoe collection that gives me no pleasure and no meaning in life.

I just panicked. I want to see if there is a power somewhere I can trade my soul with. I just don’t understand.

Today is not a good day.

Oh No Not Gwen!

If you don't want to know, don't go digging.

Bought a magazine yesterday with a rather unfortunate picture of Britney Spears on the cover - poor lass was photographed with her double chin and her post-baby stomach hanging out - photographers can be really cruel if they want to be. The girl just had a baby - at least she didn't starve herself like the other supermodels and actresses out there and appeared anorexic just weeks after giving birth.

So I turn to the back for the quick gossips, and discovered my rock goddess Gwen Stefani, who is the epitomy of cool, rock chic and the iron board stomach is pregnant.

Oh dear God.

Even rock goddesses are getting pregnant. And I am still sitting here wondering where all the sperm went the last six years we've been having unprotected sex, vaginal secretions as indication of ovulation, and why do planes almost always experience really bad turbulence when we fly over Indonesia.

Ha.

We just had our six year anniversary. Six years of infertility. It is becoming very real.

Nothing much really, there is another one of those baby boom at work, just about everybody's wife is pregnant.

One incident I can recall was roughly between my 5th and my 6th IVF attempt, I was feeling particularly down, and ended up chatting to a lovely lovely boy whom I worked with because I really didn't feel like doing any real work. He is a good catch - he can cook really well, and treat ladies with alot of respect. I ended up chatting to him extensively about my kitchen knive collection for an hour. He told me at the time he started seeing a beautiful girl he met at his church and want to find out from me if there are any nice places around town to take her. I suggested a few upmarket eateries. He thanked me and asked if I liked his new jumper - a gift from his new lady friend. It was a nice jumper.

And last month he emailed me out of the blue (he has moved on to a new job), his wife (that lady friend of his) is up the duff. She's four months pregnant. He is a happy man.

Just goes to show how long this infertility journey has been for us. It is tiring. At times I want to say fuck you to the forces of nature who subjected us to this. But now I am way beyond that, it really is okay. I haven't lost hope but at the same time I have accepted it. I have somehow managed to convince myself that it is okay and not to get upset over it.

And thanks to those who left a comment for my last posting - you are all so incredibly wonderful and strong. :) For those who's journey has not been completed yet let's hope 2006 brings about good news and bundles of joy.

New Year!!! Yeah!!

All that high-horse `I'm happy regardless of baby or no baby' bullshit behaviour of mine certainly paid off last year - I finally entered a BRAND new year HAPPY. Not sulky, blameful, whiny, depressed like the previous years.

I had a delirious month - I spent 4 weeks travelling with the Apeman - we did a few towns amongst a few continents and went skiing and sightseeing and actually tried to have a good time. And we most certainly did. And oh my god we actually had sex whenever we feel like it (not timed like before. Fuck that).

One night in Beijing, on Day 34 of my Clomid cycle, I was sitting in a heated hotel room pondering if I should put on my bathers and go for a dip in the heated natural springs. Every fertility book I have read said `Thou shall not go for dips in pool post embryo transfer to prevent risks of infection'. I said fuck it anyway and went for my life. Sitted in a hot spring amongst an atmosphere of -8 degC is way cool. Have to try that one again.

And thankfully, sigh, period rocked up with a vengance 2 days later. Ladies and gentlemen - its another dud cycle. But oh yeah I ovulated alright.

So anyway - onward and upwards - I have started a new regime of Chinese medicine - we spent almost AUD$3000 on boxes of these formulated chinese herbs purchased from Beijing - apparently the formulations were created according to the doctors who served the imperial family. We also had our pulse read by the professors of the Chinese medicine insitute and not surprisingly I was told by the master that I have irregular periods and have, urm, chunky periods. Apeman's swimmers are apparently a little on the slow side due to the `heating up' of the liver. Apparently.

And congrats to Ovagirl on your pregnancy - I have been thinking of you and hope to rub a bit of that babydust from you to use in 2006. Everytime I read about the news of a pregnancy from a trooper like yourself gives me hope. You go girlfriend!!!

And to share another bit of good news, I recently read about a couple who tried to conceive for more than 8 years gave birth to a baby girl on Christmas Day. The thought of it brings tears to my eyes.

The Story So Far

Entered total life changing experience - new motto in life - baby or no baby am not going to loose marbles over it.

Resumed social drinking again after a 5 year break. Regained appreciation for good (and bad) red wine, and dashes of bourbon with coke. Only on fridays. And only when invited to work socials. Never alone - that's alcoholic.

Resumed buying tight fitting jeans/pants. If a baby comes along, great - we can work on a new wardrobe. But in the mean time this lady here needs to be decked out.

Gained fresh approach on the job-front. Started to take my career seriously again - haven't been since I got married because I always thought I will be a mom straight away. I did a little bit of PR for myself at work and volunteered for travelling trips to earn brownie points.

Don't know if I ovulated the last two months but then again I wasn't too bothered. Basically it doesn't keep me awake at night like it used to.

Last week went to see fertility doctor for check-up. He said are you worried about your ovulation problems? I said yeah I am to a certain extent. So he said well how about we try something simple for once - like one little Clomid pill from Days 2 to Day 6 and see what we get? I said sure why not but am not going to get too excited about it because 2.5 weeks of Puregeon injections did fuck-all so what can one Clomid pill do for me?

I think I might ovulate this month. I don't know how the universe works but I seem to be responding to this light dose of Clomid. Scan shows one dominant follicle on its way a coupla of days ago. Fabulous.

And after all these - I still secretly asked Santa for a baby this year. If he comes up with the goods this year that will be very nice indeed. If he doesn't I am just going to have ask nicely again next year.

I think.

Summer Holiday

Yup - still here.

The day after the last post - the holy mother of the forever maternal river of blood came rushing, I had a big period. It kind of goes hand in hand nicely with my hangover and that sorry month of misery I called (almost) frozen embryo transfer cycle. Not nice.

And then I had a week of life changing experience. I stepped back from my usual role and started a new job - doing something a little less intense, and supposingly less stressful because I am supposed to use a little less brain (not that I use that much of my brain anyway). Work people around me thought I had gone insane. I soldiered on with my thick skinned face - because the last few months I had a totally different outlook on life and I feel most importantly that I do not need to justify my actions for anybody (with reference to the nosey un-family-like members).

And I delievered what I said here. I still get the odd person asking me about `how's everything?', `are you guys still trying?'. I smile sweetly and said no, life is too beautiful and I am relatively young so I much rather enjoy life the way it is. But thanks for asking. And oh did I tell you about my hangover last week?

Not that we are not trying. We try. I am not on any sort of contraception (derr! like THAT's going to do it for us...), and we have sex whenever we can - which is not that often but hey, sex is sex and we all have to be in the mood for it. And most importantly I don't whinge about this whole infertility issue anymore. Not even to the long suffering Apeman. We talk about our future as if it will fill with happiness with, or without, children.

Life should keep getting better - and so it should be.

Last night we went out to celebrate our birthdays - there's a couple of us who is turning 31 - and for some, turning 32. It was a night of laughter, beer, shooters (oh yes), dancing, loud music and a female DJ who staggered into the ladies loo absolutely plastered - demanding for the spot at the front of the long que in exchange for a dedicated spin to that person - which was me. I said sure go right ahead and pee away. And despite being quite intoxicated, she kept her promise and spun me a cool track. It was really cute.

And then we acted our age, me and Apeman went home just after midnight because one of my ears popped due to the loud music and became partially deaf. We bought a large bag of McDonald treats scoffed it down at home - just like the way it was when we were struggling uni students after a long night studying or at the pub.

Once I was told by a gifted woman that babies only come to you when you are happy and shine positive energies.

If all these life changing experiences and appreciation of life don't attract a baby into our lives, I don't know what can.

Never Again (Red, Red Wine)...

Last night I went out and celebrated with a bunch of people - some old, some alot older, and some alot younger - the life as engineers (i.e. a fully company-funded piss-up). It was fun. I haven't had that much fun since ages.

Honestly.

And I am severely hungover today.

I am almost 32 and have never, ever had a hangover in my life - not even during the supposingly hard-rocking years at university. Even this god forsaken computer screen is too bright for me this morning so I have to wear my sunnies whilst typing.

I vaguely remember telling my workmate last night (who at 28 already had six major operations to fix her endometriosis, and was told by her doctors that she has zero chance in conceiving because her disease had so tragically damaged her reproductive organs) to not give up hope, and remember you are too special and you WILL have your babies, and so will I. We will both go on and have healthy babies, our time will come eventually. I said this probably somewhere between my fourth and fifth glass of red wine. She agreed and we hugged. She is getting engaged to her boyfriend of four years in Christmas, who is a wonderful, wonderful man who nursed her back to health after years of depression as a result of endometriosis. She said there is nothing more she want at this point in life but to have a baby with him.

Me too.

I guess we can all live in hope. Just have to remind myself every now and then I need to give myself a break. Just enjoy life the way it is.

I just want to thank everyone of you, even those who only stumble into this blog by accident and find out what a nut I am - for reading my blog.

Sometimes you just want people to know, you want to tell people how tired you are because not too many people (in fact none) can fully understand what goes on in my head - not even Apeman because he is male and tells me `she'll be right' but gets teary when he watches a live birth on TV. From the bottom of my heart I want to thank you for reading, and bless me with a comment and support. It means alot to me - especially alot of you out there are such credible people who are fighting the same battle (and some, thankfully, have won).

Next year is it. (I actually said the same thing last year and the year before that...). But yeah. Next year is it. We are going to approach things head-on.

If only I survive the rest of today nursing this virginal hangover of mine.

Screeching Stop?

I noticed something this morning.

1) I have been sleeping like a baby the past week or so. I used to stay awake thinking about babies, IVF, drugs (fertility type), dosages (again fertility type) and when my period is going to arrive so I can start a new cycle. But no. Not this past week.
2) I have COMPLETELY stopped charting my temperatures. The two thermometers (I have one duty and one standby) have been collecting dust doing bugger all.
3) I don't really give a shit about when my period is going to here. Although I secretly wish it's here, but if it never comes then fuck it.

I have been, actually, living like a normal human being.

Mom said: `You just look after yourself, if there are not going to be any kids, then let it be.'
Sister L said: `Hunnie think about adoption - you have so much love to give and it does not necessarily need to be your own!'
Bitchy sister in law said (and during a buffet, unfair I'd say): `Are you expecting? Your stomach's huge! Have you FINALLY got good news for us?'
Woman's Day said: `Mary's little prince!'
Cosmopolitan said: `Look fabulous in 7 days with new butt-tightening technique'
WHO said: `Hollywood Baby-Boom!!!'

Ha - who to listen when there are so many wise people out there?

I say listen to my heart.

Celebrity Breeding - Part XVII

Am partially glad that finally we are getting more pregnancy news on celebrities who don't induce nausea if I ever see them on gossip magazine covers.

First up - the very lovely Brooke Shield, whom I've heard battled for years to have a baby. She left Andre Agassi, then moved on to a new hubby, finally got pregnant, and then suffered post-natal depression. Well done Brooke on getting pregnant, naturally or not, at 40. Fuck yeah.

Then it was Aussie actress Claudia Karvan. I used to love her to bits because she is such a humble person and incredible actress. I am however a little jealous that she managed to have her acting career down-pat and be a mother at the same time. Damn lucky.

The third piece of pregnancy news is a novelty one. Because she is a bit of a novelty herself. It is Geri Halliwell - a.k.a. Ginger Spice. She struggled with her weight and singing career for years, probably drugged out of her head when she was involved with a string of boy band singers, became a yoga-zen-like spoke person promoting yoga and her fine figure, became an alcoholic/addicted to painkillers and at the same time secretly bulumic. Finally she is at ease with her natural weight, suffered shitty singing career, and fell pregnant. What more can you ask for? She bedded Robbie Williams and now have a baby (two events unrelated).

Sigh...well good for these women. Really. I really am happy for them.

I wrote a long blog about my thoughts on adoption yesterday. Something about wanting to end this IVF misery and be happy. And would like to explore the adoption option. Then, as art imitating life, I put that blog on-hold and saved it as draft.

Today I feel different. I watched a real life caesarean delivery on TV last night - the cutting of flesh and the sight of blood did not gross me out at all - in fact I was totally intrigued and the next thing you know I was crying - it was as if I was the one giving birth to the baby. I saw the baby emerged from her mother's uterus and it was the most amazing thing I have ever seen. The baby girl came out all agitated and shocked, and started to cry for her life.

The crying was the sweetest thing I have ever heard.

I then looked over to where Apeman was sitting, he was watching it too and I saw tears in his eyes.

This infertility journey, at times downright shitty and unforgiving, is definitely worth fighting for.

Maintaining A Fabulous Self

During IVF off-season - I do what I feel is best for my body, mind and soul - and that is to go shopping.

It was a rather numbing experience. Friday night I went for quiet drink with work people, a rare occasion for me because I usually `go home and rest' during `trying to conceive' period. So when things go to shit - I go social drinking and do what normal 31 year old women do and live the `carefree' life. I think.

I had my one-off bourbon and coke, left the half drunk crowd to their own demise, and off I went.

I tipsyly dropped into some shops, and tried on everything that looked remotely appealing. Didn't end up buying alot, just a few tops for work, but the idea of draping myself in beautiful clothing and model them in front of the change room mirrors seemed appealing at the time.

So as I indulged in a little self love (ooh Drew, that's hot. Oh that actually makes your bum looked a little tighter. You're hot, HOT HOT!), I briefly forgot about that IVF mess last week. I wanted more.

So I walked out of one of the change rooms, and demanded to try a ridculous shift/cloth/drapey item I had on at the time in a smaller size, and was in smack-bang confrontation with my work friend and his wife, who announced they were three months
pregnant on the day I found out about my 9th IVF failure. Suddenly my big band parade came crashing down. It sucked.

I said my hellos. She's totally lovely, she said I looked good in that drapey/shift cloth item, and she looked beautifully pregnant. He - who usually by this time on a friday night should be relatively shitfaced at the pub with my other alcoholic workmates, is dutifully playing the future dad and was escorting his pregnant missus in and out of expensive boutiques like a gay designer or sort.

Well - the whole thing sucked for maybe fifteen minutes. Then it was a lonely walk back to the car and a quiet drive home. Apeman had gone hunting/doing things for the house. It was a lonely night, but I reminded myself things could've been a lot worse - so might as well enjoy life whilst I can still afford to.

And then I am going to face my IVF demon once again. Only when I am good and ready.

The Puregon Twilight Zone

Read on, this is funny.

Oh god. I think I am about to laugh. Hope it is not going to be one of those senile/crazy laughs/fits. Like Tom Cruise did when Katie said she's 6 months pregnant.

So after two weeks of consistently jabbing myself with Puregon, until we discovered this morning that hey, I think we are running out of non-bruised area as injection sites, my estrogen has descended from a promising (PROMISING?) 145 to 102 as of this morning.

My ovaries have well and trully said a big FUCK YOU.

Now, as I numbly sit here in front of mountains and mountains of equipment datasheets and simulation results, I wonder, WHERE EXACTLY DID THE PUREGON GO?

Did it:

1) Somehow gets trasferred through the bloodstream in my stomach and flies straight to the bladder, without any form of absorption - and was pissed out as soon as it was injected.
2) Apeman didn't twist the Puregon injection nozzle properly so I ACTUALLY didn't receive any fertility drugs. He was playing make-believe with me. He doctor me nurse.
3) The tubs of Puregon I received from the clinic was in fact, bless me, Holy Water. You may think it has amazing fertility powers but it really is only tap water.
4) The blood test results weren't mine. They fucked it up consistently three times in a row.
5) I imagined the whole thing. What IVF cycle?

The ovaries stopped hurting two days ago. It feels a little lumpy due to the monstrous amounts of follciles I produced but none of them grew to maturity - which explains the 102 estrogen today.

I was told by the fertility clinic to use my friend trigger tonight, that will sort out the little cysts and follicles. The cycle is cancelled and we will treat this coming Sunday as Day 1 again. And then we will start injecting. Again.

Honestly fuck that.

Is anyone paying attention here?

I couldn't raise my estrogen last week, not this week, how can you promise me it is going to raise next week or even the week after that? Is that Puregon stuff bad for my ovaries? Did it fuck up my hormones? Did my ovary grew back because of Puregon?

Is there a God?

Do I feel like crying today? Err...no actually. I am not even that angry today. Not even remotely disappointed.

I feel nothing today.

I feel nothing because as I told Apeman last night, for the past five years I had the same habit of waking up at 5:50am on specific days just so I can be one of the early birds at the clinic. I get my blood tested, I get my meds, I whinged a little to the coordinator, sometimes if I'm blessed I get an ultrasound, and some days when I am really blessed - I actually have a bed reserved for me for transfers or egg collection.

It's becoming a routine. I feel nothing. None of it hurts anymore. Fuck you.

Am just tired. So tired I don't even know when it is appropriate to cry.

I told somebody at work yesterday that I don't like children. That's why I have a dog because I don't like children. That was to stop him from telling me about his 2 year old who likes to pick up the phone and talk to telemarketers and call that person daddy.

Sigh... now I have the Danish royal family portriat to look forward to.

Go Natural - Go Yoghurt Way

Yup. Estrogen didn't even climb after almost two weeks of Puregon jabbing. There are lots of little follicles but none mature enough to get an ovulation happening. There is a thick enough endometrium but probably no use if I don't ovulate. The instruction was to bump the current dosage up to double - and keep going for a few more days.

Fuck that.

I just made an appointment today to see my surgeon. I want to look into getting the smaller ovary removed. Again. The moment it came back it seems my body has lost the will to ovulate and be normal.

I don't know if I am being irrational here. But who cares. At the moment the only person who has to live in this body of mine, and knows enough to care about what is happening to it - is myself. The clinic nurse was a little too busy to tell me my blood levels today - she said it was low - that's all. I said how low, what are they. She sounded a little agitated when she told me about them - as if I was wasting her time because what would I know? I am only the infertility patient.

I think after five years of having regular bloods done I qualify to receive my blood test results. I didn't give all that blood out for no reason.

Yes today I am agitated. I am agitated because I am tired. I am tired because I feel cheated. I feel cheated because my body doesn't work and when I try to fix it, it turns more tricks and creates even more problems so I feel fucked - constantly.

I am not Mary Future Queen of Denmark and can churn out an heir to the Danish throne on demand. I am incapable of doing that. I don't know how to feel but since finding out her good news I must be the unhappiest Australian in Australia who don't really feel like celebrating or finding out the exact dimensions of her son. I don't see why we need to send her a gift of a pair of Tasmanian Devils because Drew here can't even fucking ovulate like the majority of the Australian population.

Just to show how agitated I am, and how sick, and fucking tired I am trying to conceive like normal people, I choose to rebel and not listen to the clinic. Am sticking with my low dose Puregon (instead of the instructed double dose) until Thursday's blood test. If they tell me nothing is happening, then I will pack up, go home and get ready for Christmas.

I just want to be happy. I am tired of fighting with my ovaries.

A Little Conversation Between Me and My Ovary(s)

This morning....

Me: Ouch, that hurts.
Dianna: Ha. Fuck you for jabbing yourself with fertility drugs.
Me: Well you hurt like hell last month and we didn't ovulate did we? I thought we were going to because you seemed to be doing so much work ...
Dianna: Well you can't have everything. You got Deirdre back last month and she thinks you're a bitch for cutting her off.
Me: WELL I don't want HER back do I?
Deirdre: Fuck you - and can you feel that? That's me jabbing you on your lower back.
Me: Can I please... I beg of you two....your highness....to ovulate for me this month. I just need a little estrogen rise to get a cycle going. Please? I pray to you?? Anyone of you?? My stomach is black and blue because some bitch jabbed it real hard last week and it's getting pretty sore. I really hate Puregon, you know that. Can we please? ...
Dianna: Fuck you.
Deirdre: Yeah fuck you.

And here I am.

Life Is What Happens To You When You're....

Yeah yeah. As the song goes - whilst you are busy making other plans, grieving, hoopla-ing about night sweats and hot flashes, being thumped in the head at regular fifteen minute intervals by non-human-male boss who is more worried about gas dispersion problems in a remote mine-site in the middle of whoop whoop than your life-long fertility quest.

I just realise I haven't been doing my temperatures for the last three weeks.

It was almost a three year non-breakable habit. First thing first, if Apeman wants a hug/sex in the the morning, it's a definite NO until I take my body temperature. I don't want his body heat (or body on heat) to contaminate my basal body temperature. Nooo siree. Temperature first.

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beeeeeeeeeep.
Ooh. 36.9°C. What does that mean? Hormonal fluctuation? Egg release? Possible cystation occuring in the bottom half of right ovary?

And then I will obsess about this stupid little number for the duration of my car ride to work.

Well thank fucking goodness that I have temporarily abandoned this habit of mine. Because it really is making me insane.

Since grandpa's sickness and untimely death, (sigh...he was meant to be around when I present him with his great-grandchild), I have gone easy on my fertility quest. It's like I am not thinking about getting pregnant ALL THE TIME. I actually focused momentarily on other things in life, such as grandmama's happiness, Apeman's eating habits, my dog's skin problem, and to plan a nice holiday during christmas so me and Apeman can run free and relax - enjoy life like normal people.

Not sure if this is a good thing. Maybe it's a sign from Grandpa, maybe this is his way of telling me there are other things in life to worry about apart from having a baby. I just wish the rest of the world (ie. Apeman's relatives) understands that too.

And on that note. This week's New Idea once again glorifies my favourite tennis couple - please throw in your four bucks and look inside for this week's exclusive story on Bec and Lleyton's secret baby heartache! I didn't even border to stop and check out the magazine. It is likely to be something daft like - oh my god they are not getting the baby girl they have always (the 8 months they have known each other?) dreamed of - they are, and we know that for a fact because it is an exlcusive, getting a boy who is going to grow up to look and play tennis just like daddy! Hurray!

Or

Oh my god Bec gained a humanly possible 4 pounds as a result of the pregnancy and is going to be named Australia's fattest ex-soap-actress! Tragedy!!!!

Am sure nothing is tragically wrong with her pregnancy and baby. And even if so, I don't want to read about it either.

I'm Back

I actually wrote another really angry post the other day, but thankfully the computer crashed on me because I was trying to run a 54MB simulation at the same time.

Am fine, after my hissy fit, I got my period next day.

Last few days been really numb that's all, I really miss my Grandpa.

Had a blood test in hope for some answers regarding to the night sweats and hot flashes only to be told I am `normal'. Hormones are at base line and we are okay to start another cycle. FSH levels are fine, in fact they are pretty okay. So looks like I still have a decent reserve of eggs and not menapausal as per my ramblings last time. I do believe those crazy hormones and behaviour earlier on this week were the result of PMS. I was severely PMS - and together with the loss of Grandpa probably sent me off the edge.

Am okay now. Only just. Had headache all day yesterday and was a little cranky.

Oh I also got a letter from the ultrasound dude, it was in the form of a letter, results are loosely like this:

Drew had a history of endometriosis. (Derr!)
Ultrasound indicated there are two ovaries (It's a miracle Doc, a miracle.) , the left one is significantly smaller than the right, possibliy a remnant as a result of previous surgery, measured at 17mm x 15mm. Right ovary is slightly dense (slightly dense???) and appeared enlarged with no other indications of PCOS. (So is it or is it not PCOS? I thought you said it was?)
HSG was conducted without difficulty (well I had some difficulty holding the pose without screaming rape or civilian torture), fluid was seen passing through the right fallopian tube without difficulty. No fluid passes through the left tube. (What left tube?)
Uterine thickness 9mm, uterine cavity appeared normal with no pathological symptoms.

So there. Another normal report with no real explanation as to why I am still the walking contraceptive I claimed to be.

No Mood For A Decent Title Today

So I had the same old hot sweats last night. And then throughout today, the occasional hot flashes (ie. sudden rush of body heat, I felt really hot and suddenly want to remove all items of clothing).

The so called period stopped this afternoon. It wasn't really a period, just heavy spotting. I spent all day sitting on an empty pad - (well, not one, but two, I changed midday due to hygiene reasons).

How do I feel?

Well, I feel crap in general. Feels like I was dragged all over a bowl of white batter, then left to drain off, then put into hot oil for frying. I then come out all crispy and burnt. I felt used, tired and extremely, extremely agitated. And on top of that some creepy old bastard I work with who occasionally and `accidentally' calls me by his `ex-girlfriend's' name - keeps walking past my desk today and giving me a creepy sneer. I really want to say fuck off you old bastard and go pay someone so you can get laid but I couldn't really. I would like to keep this job.

If this hormone thing gets me heated enough I will surely report him to the manager. I'd say I don't like the way he looks at me, and I don't like to be called the same name his ex-girlfriend has. I have had enough.

I feel like shit and wanted to go home and have a cry. I miss my grandpa and grandma.

I want to call my surgeon up and ask him to please kindly remove all reproductive organs within myself, all imaginary parts, all real parts, and all parts that grow back despite previous removal. So I won't have to live through this life of mine, month after month, wondering both silently and aloud if I have ovulated and if it was a good ovulation, and if I didn't ovulate what actually happened and what is my FSH today and was the problem due to PCOS, endometriosis, pituary disfunction, cysts, adhesions, progesterone deficiency, early menopause, divine intervention or something much more scarier.

Five years.

I spent my twenties fucking around with (or being fucked by) fertility clinics and doctors and fertility related websites.

I am just tired today. Also I read the MSN news that Nicolas Cage's 19 year old Korean waitress wife he married last year has just given birth to a baby boy, he named the baby after a superman character.

In the mean time, I am going to try and hold on to my marbles, sit tight and wait for tomorrow's blood test at the clinic to see if the `period' I had to today is a real period. I would like to start another cycle straight away before this pathetic fertility ship of mine starts to sink.

And fuck you Nicolas Cage for calling your baby Kal-el Cage. Hollywood should prevent knobheads like him from reproducing if they are going to keep giving their children stupid names so they can be made fun of when they go to high school.

A Bleed Is As Good As Anything

Didn't sleep well last night for obvious reasons (grandpa's passing, thinking about poor grandma and how she's coping).

Woke up around 2pm and went for a pee. And realised, Shock! Horror! I am having night sweats. My PJ's were soaked.

OH MY GOD.

My new and improved lifestyle in honour of Grandpa will probably think this is nothing. Just nightsweats as a result of a very stressful day. Pffft.

My old pessimistic self is screaming OH HOLY FUCK I AM GOING INTO EARLY MENOPAUSE!!!!

I am going to treat it as nothing, will see if it happens again tonight. Am stressing but also trying to stay calm.

Woke up this morning and felt like my right ovary is about to explode. It really is PCOS. It feels really lumpy and painful. And the new ovary on the left is definitely stuck high up my lower back. Fucking Deirdre.

Then halfway through the day I see blood on my knickers. Today is Day 30 and I haven't even ovulated yet according to the ultrasound last wednesday.

Again, my new and improved lifestyle in honour of Grandpa will think it is probably my period - hack, it's been 30 days hasn't it? So yeah you should have a period right about now. So there you go. TAKE THAT Libra Fluer.

Or

My old pessimistic self is screaming (*in a high pitched girlie voice*) oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck - it's mid-cycle spotting, I am spotting again. Oh all the surgeries, all the ovary cutting, all the cathether inserting, all the learning how to walk again amounts to nothing. I am back to old self. Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck.

Let's just hope that I only broke into a sweat last night because I was having bad dreams, and I am about to have a period so that's why I am spotting today.

Pretty please?

Goodbye Grandpa

After a week spent lying in a hospital - and exactly one week since he was given two days to live - my grandpa passed on this morning in the presence of his immediate family.

Cancer took him away. I'd never imagine the power and frightfulness of cancer, but I see it for myself for the first time.

It came, it conquered, and it took my grandpa with him in a matter of weeks. But my grandpa died a happy man - he was able to talk to each and everyone of us before he looses consciousness, the cancer impaired his speech but he managed to held on to my grandma really tight a couple of days ago, telling her he will miss her the most. Then he lapsed into semi-consciousness, then to deep sleep, then death came this morning.

I cannot imagine a better way to go -warm in a bed surrounded by loved ones.

I hope today, will be the last day I view life as a pessimist. I am going to face life as it is and take each day as it comes. Because if there is one thing I take with me today as a result of my grandpa's passing, is to live for today and worry about tomorrow, tomorrow. That's his favourite line.

Oh and I sure will have a glass of whisky in his honour this week to celebrate his life.