Posts Tagged ‘Confusion’

Hiding in Plain Sight

Long time no blog.

I know. *slaps own hand*  “Bad Blogger!”  But come on in, have a seat…

If you hang with me on Facebook and Twitter, then you know I haven’t really left, but that I’ve just been extremely more quiet about what is going on inside my own journey.    There’s good reason, I promise.   (more…)

The King and I

I’m frustrated today.

But somehow at some form of peace.

Maybe it’s one of those levels of grief people are always talking about.

Maybe not.

My follow-up appointment for the hysteroscopy was yesterday morning.  I waited it out!  I behaved like a good girl and didn’t flip out and call the nurses anymore.  I just waited out those five days and bought that next two boxes of Always.

I knew that if had been something serious they’d found, they would had to have called me sooner, but somehow my mind just kept saying that they’d return with something god-awful, and that I should be terrified.   Around Tuesday, I was kind of freaked out, but for the most part, I kept it to myself.  By the time Thursday came around, I was financially, emotionally, and mentally broken, but I got up and went anyway.  There would be answers!  There would be direction!  There would be something drastic!

There was none of these things. LOL

In my gyne office, I am a medical anomaly.  This rebellious uterus of mine was cause for great head scratches and squinted “you’ve gotta be kidding me”, facial expressions.  From the results of my tests, there is once again “nothing gynecologically wrong” with me to be causing this newset bout of menorrhagia.  No cancer, no fibroids, no polyps, no infections, no nothing.  That being said, she did speak in great grotesque detail about the amount of lining she’d had to remove, and the size of the pieces removed (think small kiwi fruit.  right, I know, tmi).  But aside from learning that my body basically stockpiles lining like its waiting on Y2K, I left with the same information I’d had going in.

I’m just numb at this point.  And cold (can someone say “Anemia”).  I was flustered, but not really angry.  I just got in my car and went around the corner to work.

And that’s pretty much still where I am today.

Sigh.

Many times I’ve gotten private messages from those who wonder if I personally have a spiritual take on my own situation.   They ask me if I have a relationship with God.  I do.

I don’t post much spiritual word on this blog, or on the Facebook page for a few reasons.  First, I don’t want to ostracize anyone who believes differently than I do, who may still need the support this place provides.   Secondly, I would like to refrain from being anyone’s spiritual or religious spokesperson, because sometimes, when I’m really struggling, I may not say what a church girl should, and that freedom to feel, is a huge part of what this site is built on.

BUT, just to quell the curiosity, He(God) and I have wrestled with this things for a while.  Close to eight years with the irregular bleeding, and close to six with the infertility.  I’ve had seasons of silently trying to hear and follow His will, and others of being quite angry with Him.  Today, I’m just listening.

But because the question has been posed so often, I wonder if that conversation is one we should be having, Eggshells. How has your faith been tested? How have you overcome? HAVE you overcome?

Sh*t Just Got Real

Ladies, (and the ever-elusive gentlemen), we have a verdict.

The jury was out for a good, long while, but within 45 minutes, the final decision was finally made.

BOTH of my tubes are completely blocked.

There is a weight on that sentence that has been rolling around on my tongue for a while.  But before I get into that, let me break down how I got this long-awaited answer.   Things started with an HSG test.

My appointment was at 9am, and I was actually taken back sometime around 9:30.  After undressing from the waist down, I was led to the x-ray room by a very nice nurse named Tammy.   Prior to getting things started, Tammy had me sit down so that we could discuss each thing that was going to take place.

First, she asked if I’d taken any pain relievers prior to coming to the appointment, which I hadn’t.  She then double-checked to make sure that they had been recommended by my doctor.  They had. I have a pretty high pain threshold in my opinion, and couldn’t see how two tylenol an hour beforehand were going to make much difference, so I didn’t take any.  After those preliminaries, it was time to break down the procedure itself.

My doctor, Doctor C., would be called down to the room to insert a catheter, Tammy would remain at my head to keep me calm and explain what was happening, and a radiologist would be called in to perform the x-ray itself.   Through the catheter, my doctor would use a syringe to push dye directly into my uterus, while the radiologist simultaneously photographed the process with the x-ray machine.  Done correctly and without complication, we all would be able to see the dye travel through my uterus and tubes by way of the monitor placed beside the exam table.  She asked if I had any questions.  I didn’t.  Then it was time to sit on the table and wait for the doc.

My doctor came down, as explained, asked me if I was comfortable, and went over the details again.  Then it was time for the catheter.  Okay, now I have a pretty high pain threshold, like I said, but this was very uncomfortable for me.  It didn’t “hurt”, but it was extremely jolting.  There is a precise feeling of someone pushing or pulling on a tender part of your skin, but it feels somewhat worse because it’s internal.  I was pretty cool I think, but according to Tammy, I was definitely tensing up, so she sat beside me and talked me through a few calming breaths.  I stared up at the arm of the x-ray machine, where there was a sticker that read: “7/2”.  I focused on that sticker because it is actually my wedding anniversary.  I found this, combined with the “breathing exercises” to be maddeningly ironic, considering the situation, but I shook it off.

Once the catheter was fully in, I couldn’t feel any other discomfort.  I forgot it was there actually.  In about three minutes, the radiologist was there and turning on the machine.   Tammy moved the monitor closer so that I could see.  Lights, cameras, action!

Only, there was no action. LOL

I watched the screen, I felt Doctor C. push the syringe harder, and none of us saw a damn thing.  My lady bits basically flipped us all the bird.  I remember vividly that there was one moment when Doctor C. said, “I really can’t push any more.  I think they’re both blocked.”

And that’s when shit got real.

I don’t know.  The picture in my head was of the dye showing up brightly on that monitor, and of my leaving there with a new script for Clomid.  I fully intended on beating this thing with the most minimally invasive procedures as possible.

Instead, she walked to the head of the bed and told me flat-out that I would need to call the RE, and that the most viable option for me would have to be IVF.  She put a hand on my shoulder and said, “You did what you said that you wanted to do. You went as far as WE could.  This test, was that last thing that WE could do.  Now, you go further.  Call the doctor I told you about.  She’s a great person, who is very honest and personable.  This is fixable.”

And I don’t really remember much after that.  I mean, it isn’t that this wasn’t frustrating or painful before.  It was.  But somehow this felt more devastating.  There’s something very definitive about the moment you’re told that this thing you didn’t want to do, this path you were avoiding, is the ONLY way to your goal.

Bring me the slippers of the Wicked Witch of The West!

I do remember some things.

I remember getting dressed.

I remember telling my mom, who was in the waiting room.

I remember her taking me to breakfast, and asking gentle questions about what to do next, and sitting there for almost two hours.

I remember her taking me shopping.

I remember holding on to my facade for hours.

I remember watching every mother I encountered, even when I told myself not to.

Mostly, I remember feeling really confused and shitty.

I also remember feeling like I “had” to be positive.

I remember thinking to myself that I didn’t want anyone “worried”, “concerned”, “feeling sorry for”, or “uncomfortable about” me.

So I just shut it off.

I was about to think of the finances.  But I shut that off.

I was about to think of the frustration.  But I shut that off too.

I just, completed the day.

Fill in the bubbles completely on this standardized test.  If you don’t know the answer, after using your study and test-taking skills, make your very best educated guess.  

And that’s what I did.

And that’s what I’m still doing.

There’s a plan in here.  I always have one.  But at the moment, it’s tightly buried beneath my anger and frustration.  I’ll pull it out in a bit.  But at the moment, I’m frantically filling in these blank test bubbles.

Whatever

 

Good Mornin, Metformin

So, it has been a while since I’ve taken the time to actually POST some tidbits here on the site.  And it is all your fault.  See, most of you follow The Egg on Facebook and we have such great conversations there, that by the time I get over here, I have nothing else to say because we’ve talked it to death over the course of a day!

But, getting back to what this site was created for, and beyond the “business” sides, I have to get my thoughts out once more.  And, even in the year 2012…some people don’t use Facebook.  I know, I know, perish the thought.  But it dawned on me that for those who don’t use Big Blue, there is little to no way of knowing what is going on right now with me if I don’t post it here.  So here I am.  Have a seat, let’s chat. (more…)

Second (or fifth) Verse, Same as the First

I’ve decided to drink wine this evening.

Yellow Tail makes a charming Merlot.  A Merlot that has helped a bit.  I plan to be at ease by the time I reach the latter half of it.  Today warranted that sort of planning.

You see, basically, I got the same “news” today that I’ve gotten before:

Say it with me now: “There is NOTHING gynecologically wrong.”

Really? (more…)

Is this fair? Empathy and Prayers *BrokenBrownBellePost*

So, I was in prayer for our sisters in Japan when the FedFX guy interrupted by banging on my office door.  I knew it was him, I was expecting him. But I had forgotten that I was expecting him. He was there to give me a rush delivery of Repronex injections.  By the time I got to the door I was loaded with guilt and sadness, because of the prayers that I’d just finished. (more…)

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