Run away! Run away! (done in my best Monty Python voice) May 7, 2008

F and I are heading to Louisiana this Saturday, to go gamble and basically pretend that Mother’s Day isn’t this weekend.  It would be a gross understatement to say that I’m truly dreading this Sunday.  I went ahead and bought my mom a card, which I’ve already put in the mail, and I have already told her we’re not heading to her house this weekend, although that’s what I’d usually do. 

I just don’t want to be this great gaping wound around my parents, my sister, and my niece and nephew.  The way I feel right now, I don’t know how I’d react if someone said something to me that touched these raw and exposed nerves I’m currently sporting.  I don’t want to feel anger and resentment aimed toward anyone, especially my loving and caring family, nor do I want to be a sad sack around them this weekend.  I really feel that it’ll be better for F and I to just run away for a weekend.  Maybe we’ll become millionaires over the weekend…

I can lick my wounds while I’m sitting in an oversized tub with its jets swishing and swirling the water around my aging, PCOS-ridden, infertile, soon-to-be-miscarrying body.  I can be as antisocial as I damned well please while I sit mindlessly at a slot machine.  I can even drink if that’s what I want to do.  I can’t really think of a place that is less familial and cozy than a casino, so that works for me and my present mindset. 

Thank God that F figured it out pretty quickly, so that I didn’t even have to ask if we could go somewhere, anywhere, this weekend.  He may have had a tiny bit of help in that department from my mom, but I don’t think so.  I think he honestly thought of it himself.  Bless him!   

I can’t help but think that poor F suspects that he married a ghoul of some kind.  I know I freaked him out when I decided to go to work on the day after we found out I would miscarry.  Sure, my emotions are raw as hell, but it’s actually easier on me up at school than it would be if I sat at home by myself all day, every day, waiting for the inevitable.  Besides, I need to save those sick days for when I’m actually miscarrying. 

Since finding out there was no hope of the baby’s survival, the most difficult part of the day for me is at night, when I get ready for bed.  That’s when I’d don my maternity sleeping bra, take my prenatal vitamins, and used to do my daily Endometrin insert.  These days, the boobs are still tender at night, so I still have to use a maternity sleeping bra, which really kind of sucks if you’re a woman who is no longer pregnant.  I still take my prenatal vitamin, because I believe that it’s important for the wellbeing of any future vamplita and F progeny.  But, like I mentioned in my last post, I’m no longer taking the inserts, since what’s the frickin’ point??   

The first time I had to use the bra after finding out our baby’s dead, I simply bawled.  It seems very, very unfair that I’m still experiencing that symptom, even though I’m no longer expecting.  I can’t even begin to describe the feeling of complete and utter defeat I experienced that first night I had to use the bra after hearing the news.  It really chafes to know that my nightly pregnancy ritual was, after all is said and done, all for naught. 

             

Guess what bites harder than infertility?? *WARNING - not good news* May 2, 2008

I honestly don’t know what to say.  F and I went to my RE appointment on April 23rd for another ultrasound.  We were expecting to see a heartbeat and hear good news.  We ended up being 1 for 2.  According to Dr. S, the baby only measured at 6w0d, which as you may or may not know, is one week behind where (s)he ought to be at 7weeks, one day.  She did see a faint heartbeat, which she showed us.  But, the fact that the baby only did two days worth of development in eight days is most definitely not a Good Thing.  In fact, it’s pretty fuckin’ bad.    

She told us that, given the baby’s slow development, and my - wait for it - advanced maternal age, there was a good chance that I’d miscarry.  I was scheduled to go back the next Wednesday, April 30th, to see what was happening, and, as Dr. S said, “we’d take it from there”.  I was sincerely hoping our little one just wasn’t feeling particularly sociable, and (s)he was just at a weird angle, so the measurements were off.  However, Dr. S couldn’t hear the baby’s heartbeat on doppler, either.  Sigh. 

Our first OB appointment was scheduled for May 2nd, today.  Depending upon what happened at the next RE appointment, I’d either keep the appointment, or have to cancel it.  I was really, really hoping we didn’t have to cancel. 

I managed to not cry until Dr. S left us while I got dressed.  F and I held each other, while he kept telling me not to give up yet.  “Not yet, honey…there’s still a chance.”

Dr. S told us that there was a good chance that I would miscarry, and it appears that she was right.  I had the followup appointment this past Wednesday, April 30th, and there wasn’t a heartbeat visible or audible this time.  Our dreams of a December baby (or any baby) aren’t meant to be for this year. 

I’ve decided to stop taking my vaginal inserts of progesterone, wait, and let nature take its course, as difficult as that will be.  I don’t prefer it by any means…who could prefer any thing when miscarriage is the subject???  But, I know that would be better on my body than having a D&C.  Still, I’ve also decided to set a time limit on this waiting period, because there comes a point when mental health is at-risk after a while, ya know??  One has to consider the trade-off involved of body health vs. going out of my rabbit-ass mind while waiting being on BloodWatch 2008.  Two weeks sounded appro pos to me, considering how many two-week-waits I’ve had during this journey that is my life as an infertile woman. 

I’ll stop now.  I’m fucking bummed as it is. 

   

All’s well April 16, 2008

We got to see our tiny Lollipop yesterday, and I’m pleased to announce that (s)he was at least in the right location.  Dr. S said that there was a definite gestational sac, a yolk sac, and a fetal pole that she saw.  She said she wasn’t prepared to say officially that she saw a heartbeat, but that if she “closed one eye, looked really hard, and imagined just as hard”, she might see a faint heartbeat.  She said that (s)he measured at 5w5d, which was a bit small for what we had determined as 6w0d, but she said it didn’t really surprise or concern her.

I asked her for some OB recommendations, and she was more than happy to provide a few.  I’ve always told myself that if I ever got pregnant, I was going to have my baby at Woman’s Hospital of Texas.  I really like the fact that they have a neonatologist on staff 24-7, along with an OB, and an anesthesiologist.  Not only are they available 24 hours a day, these are doctors who have been in their profession for many years… in other words, they aren’t a sea of residents, who may or may not be as familiar with a situation such as mine.  Their NICU is top-notch, if (God forbid!!) something were to happen for the baby to require that type of accommodation. 

My husband wasn’t as eager for me to go there to have the baby.  The hospital’s about 25 minutes away, and (bless him) he’s concerned that I wouldn’t be able to make it to the hospital in time if I were to go into labor while he was at work, and potentially hundreds of miles away.  I had the doctor explain to him about why this hospital is so good, and that most first pregnancy labors were far from quick, so I’d have plenty of time to get there if I had to get there on my own.  Yay, Dr. S!! 

I asked her if she would consider my pregnancy to be high-risk for any reason.  She said that no, she didn’t think there was a reason for me to be high-risk at this time.  I have very few restrictions - no rollerskating, no horseback riding, and no climbing stuff, which totally screws up my plans for this next weekend!!  I had plans to climb onto a rollerskating horse and possibly a bit of skydiving.  Oh well.  At least there’s still skydiving.   

An entirely different kind of Two Week Wait April 9, 2008

Ya know, it came to me just a couple of days ago that I’m in yet another Two Week Wait.  This one, however, is dramatically different.  I’ve reached a stage that I’ve never reached before in our pursuit of a child of our own, and I’m getting to experience new things that have never happened to me before.  It’s weird, though.  I’m thrilled to be pregnant, but I’m concerned about how things will turn out.  I just want everything to be okay, and for my baby(!!?!) to be delivered in December, perfectly normal and disgustingly healthy. 

My next appointment with Dr. S (the RE with the mostest) is on April 15th, my darling hubby’s birthday.  All I know is that I’m to have an ultrasound and bloodwork.  I’ll be exactly six weeks pregnant that day, and all I really, really want to see is that there is a child in my uterus.  God, please let there be an embryo in the place where it’s supposed to be, safely housed within my uterus of “advanced maternal age”. 

Hey, I totally get that doctors have to cover their asses and make damned sure that their patients understand the odds.  They want to make sure that if there were things to (God forbid!!!) go wrong, the patient was informed that (God forbid!!!) Bad Things do happen.  I really do understand.  But after all of the heartbreak that F and I have experienced while trying to get me pregnant ever since 2000, after all of the tears I’ve cried, wondering when it was going to be my turn (or if it were ever going to be my turn!), I’m feeling that whole “it’s your time” thing.  I can’t exactly explain it, but I have this bizarre sense of this being the Real Deal.

If I’m wrong, I’m wrong.  But so far, I’m trying to enjoy the hell out of this feeling.  Partying and drinking all night… not really.  I’m not really even minding the bloated belly I have so far.  I get a kick out of the frequent bathroom urges so far.  All of the things I’m experiencing so far have been wonderful reminders that I’m pregnant.  Mind you, no morning sickness as of yet, so let’s see just how chipper vamplita is after the barfing episodes.  Heh.  But, I will say that my mom never had morning sickness with me, her first child.  That would be nice, but in a sick, twisted way, the morning sickness would also be a begrudgingly welcome thing too.  It would certainly be a daily affirmation of my current condition, no? 

I’d really like to see a tiny, beating heartlike structure within my uterus this next Tuesday.  If that’s not too much to ask, I’d be really appreciative.  Now, I know that I may not see that.  It may not be possible at this stage of development to see such a fantastic sight.  Still, it would be cool!  But, like I said, the most important thing is making sure all is well.  It’s just got to be.        

Very Happy to Report April 3, 2008

My 1st hCG quantity was 81, which is right where it needed to be.  The second one, however, simply blew me away.  All this morning on the way to the lab to get the bloodwork, I kept talking to my baby(!!?!), telling it that I wanted a high number, at least double of the original amount. 

Apparently, the baby’s an overachiever like its mama.  When the nurse called with the results, they were a very impressive 204.  I had to wipe the tears from my eyes, I was so happy to hear that!  Passed with flying colors!  I can hardly wait until school’s out, so I can tell my baby how proud I am of it breezing by the first of many tests it has to ace throughout its life.

 F and I still haven’t really fully grasped the fact that we’re going to be parents.  My brain keeps repeating over and over that I’m pregnant, and I’m hoping that the message starts to trickle into my psyche soon.  I think the process has begun. 

It’s funny, but I already think of the baby as a she.  I’ll tell you why, and you may take it as you will.  My sister and I seem to have the occasional psychic vibe about things.  Months ago, she not only dreamed about me (finally) getting pregnant, but she also dreamed that I had a little girl.  She’s correctly predicted the sex of four babies in our family, again months before they were born. 

I had a very, very vivid dream the morning of April Fool’s Day.  I dreamed that I was pregnant.  That’s why I was the tiniest bit surprised when I got the BFN that morning.  The dream was the kind of dream I get when it’s a kind of psychic/predictive dream, which meant that I remembered a heck of a lot more of it than I usually do.  Most dreams I have I promptly forget, but those kinds of dreams I tend to recall later, when the events occur.  Strange I know, but it’s true.             

Ahem… April 1, 2008

Woke up this morning and did my usual pee-on-a-stick routine.  Same result as before - big, fat negative.  About two hours before I saw my RE, I gave in to my urge and did it again this afternoon, on one of my more expensive tests.  positivepositivepositivepositive!!! 

 Now, mind you, it was super-duper faint, but it was there!  I ran to get my camera phone, and took the pic.  I tried in my freaked-out state to send the pic to my sister for verification, and of course, the phone wouldn’t forward it.  So, I gscrambled madly about my not-so-tidy house, got my digital camera and took some pics.  They weren’t quality pics, by any means…hell, my hands were shaking so badly, I couldn’t keep the image I wanted in the viewfinder.  I forwarded those grainy, dark photos to my sister, and she said she could see it too.  :) 

I then decided to use the last of my pricier tests about 25 minutes later, with a different urine sample.  Again, a faint, faint line.  I still can’t believe it.

I went to the RE, and during our appointment, I showed her the pic from my camera phone.  She said, “Yep, it’s a positive.”  She and I both marveled at the fact that it happened with only one mature follicle.  And, as she says, at my age.  It’s not like the odds were greatly in our favor.  

I still had the bloodwork done, for a starting beta, and I’m to go back this Friday, for my 2nd beta.  Then, on April 15th, I’m to go for an ultrasound.  God, I’m jazzed!  My RE estimates that the EDD is December 9th.  Unbefuckinglieveable. 

I couldn’t tell F on the phone, so I waited until I got home with dinner.  I’d bought a bottle at the pharmacy downstairs from the RE’s office, and while F was getting plates, I set the bottle on the table where he was going to sit.  (I’d actually had the presence of mind to charge up the video camera while I was at the RE’s office, so I was ready.) 

He’s very, very happy, but surprised that we found out this soon.  I get the official results tomorrow, and I can hardly wait!  I’ll be sure to call him tomorrow as soon as I know the results. 

We told my parents, his parents, my sister, and a close cousin of mine, all who knew that we were trying to conceive.  The general concensus was that it was the best news they’d heard in a long time.  I tend to agree. 

 Please, please keep your fingers crossed that all is well, beta-wise.  We need this embryo to stick, grow, be healthy, and stay put for at least 250 days! 

More later - I’m heading to bed. 

     

Dollar Tree’s My Enabler March 28, 2008

So not only have I given in to my need obsession to POAS ever since about 6dpiui, but I’ve found a new supplier to provide them to me at a much reduced rate of…you guessed it - a dollar.  DollarTree HPTs rock if you’re trying to placate that urge to mark your territory and feel like you’re doing something semi-useful during the TWW.  It helps me satisfy my serious desire to see something, anything, while remaining much more affordable than if I were using the ones I’ve used in the past.  Yes, I’m still getting BFNs - duh! 

I’m now 10dpiui, and did my daily POAS episode on el cheapo $Tree HPT.  It’s a BFN again today.  Sigh.  Still, as long as AF doesn’t show, I’m a happy camper.  I can still hope. 

I really do know that it would’ve been highly unusual for me to see anything remotely positive before this.  Still, there’s a touch of the windmill-tilting insane optimist within the confines of my person.  Who knew??  I keep imagining that I’ll be one of those oh-so-fortunate ladies who POAS after only 8- or 9dpo and get that beloved BFP.  After all, I stand just as good a chance as any other PCOS-ridden 40-year-old, right?       

** ALERT:  mention of potentially uncomfortable subject to follow. Scoot down to the ~Change of subject~, if you desire. 

Sigh.  It’s days like today that make me really wish I didn’t work in high school.  As I was walking through the hall towards the teacher’s lounge, I happened to overhear a couple of 16-year-old girls talking.  I wish to hell I hadn’t.    One of them was telling the other one, “Man, if my mom finds out that I’m pregnant, she’ll kill me.  I going to get rid of it this weekend.  I don’t want it, anyways.” 

I have to say that I died a little inside upon hearing her annoyed comment, and not being able to spill my guts to her, about how the “thing” she wants to dispose of as if it meant nothing would mean everything to someone in my shoes.  Someone who has been trying to be blessed with her problem for nearly eight years now.  It was all I could do to not yell at her, and tell her how many couples I know of (mostly from the internet, mind you) who would love to be “burdened” with her condition, no matter how inconvenient it is.  I soooo wanted to tell her of the thousands of dollars, countless hours of pure angst and devastating heartbreak that many, many people subject themselves to, all in the interest of becoming laden with the similar circumstances as she…only to never attain that lofty goal.  Or, worse yet, have nature perform a similar procedure as what this young woman was choosing to do to her own offspring.  Okay, it’s similar, as in the outcome’s the same…a precious life taken before it’s time.  But, I had to remain mute, and continue to walk away…tears blurring my vision.  Like I said, today wasn’t the best day to be a teacher of teenagers.  Ready to peruse something a little less vitriolic, yet??

~~Change of Subject~~

My follow-up appointment is this next Tuesday, April 1st.  It would be really ironic and hilarious if I got to tell F he’s going to be a daddy on April Fool’s Day.  He wouldn’t believe me this time either, I bet.  Heh. 

Back on that same day in 2005, I managed to fall while walking across the street in San Antonio.  I was in that beautiful city because I was attending an TESOL Conference.  I broke my left elbow, sprained my right arm, right elbow, and both wrists.  I know - graceful, huh?  Anyway, after going to the emergency room, and walking out with both arms in slings, I called my clueless husband to tell him, and so that we could figure out how I was going to get me, my stuff, and my manual transmission car back home ASAP. 

I’ve always been known for my Bad Timing, and this was no exception.  I called my husband right after his sister and niece had pulled a nasty April Fool’s joke on him.  I mean, he’d literally just hung up the phone with them, and was still fuming about it. 

So, here’s how that particular conversation went, with the names altered just a wee bit ”to protect the innocent”:    

Me:  F?  Honey?  I have some bad news.  I was in an accident.

F:  What??  Are you okay? 

Me:  Uh, no.  I fell and broke both of my elbows. 

F:  Yeah, April Fool’s - I get it.  You’re not funny, you know.

Me:  No, I’m serious.  I really did do it, crossing the street.  I’m sitting here now, at the WalMart Pharmacy, waiting for my pain pills. 

F:  Seriously, vamplita, it’s not funny.  I’m not buying it, so knock it off, already. 

Me:  I know it’s not funny, F.  I wouldn’t kid about this.  I’m serious as a heart attack.  I need you to come get me. 

F:  That’s not funny, damn it!  vamplita, you’d better not be fucking with me.  If I find out you’re lying to me, I swear, I’ll break your arms myself. 

He then proceeded to tell me of how our niece had called him, pretending to be pregnant, and that his sister confirmed what our niece had told him.  They had him completely convinced that it was true, and after about 25 minutes of him trying to console his supposedly-distraught sister, they finally told him it was a joke.  As soon as he got off that call, more than a little pissed about his own family being so cruel to him, I called with this news.  Small wonder he thought I was trying to pull his leg again.

So, it would be more than amusing for me to try to break the news of a pregnancy to him on that day, of all days.  God, I hope I get to!!      

  

Crossing all crossables March 17, 2008

F and I go in for our second go-round with IUI tomorrow morning.  I’m sincerely hoping that we have some baby action this time!  Please, if any of you are in good with the Man Upstairs, please send Him a tiny missive regarding vamplita and family.  Or, at least send a few get-a-swimmer-to-fertilize-the-egg vibes our way, will you? 

F and I would appreciate any help we can get.  God knows I’ll be a nightmare to live with for the TWW.  Last time around, I kept experiencing phantom symptoms.  I’m sure almost everyone has those.  At least I’ll be keeping busy with grad school, thank goodness. 

Still, my mind flashes forward to possibilities.  During that ever-lovin’ Two Week Wait, I find myself looking at stuff like pregnancy announcements, diaper bags, and reading as many TTC success stories as I can possibly get my mouse to click upon.  I tell myself that I do it for inspiration, and I honestly think that’s why I do it.  I want those positive vibes to help if it’s at all possible, ya know? 

I’m the kind of person that casinos love to have as a patron!  The answer to “Why?” should be obvious, I’d imagine.  Because Hope Springs Eternal within this breast, ladies and germs.  I’m an optimist when it comes to games of chance like slot machines, thinking that if I keep sitting at the machine in front of me, it will eventually pay off.  After a while, I start thinking, “hey, this thing is bound to hit pretty soon.  I know it’s got at least (enter ridiculous amount) of my money already, plus the cash the previous soul plunked into here right before I sat here.  If it’s going to hit…why not for me?  I stand just as good a chance of winning as anyone else, don’t I??  After all, I’m due to win big, aren’t I?  It’s gotta be my turn by now, right??”  So, fast forward and see vamplita deposit her last money into same promising machine, still thinking that it could happen.  Kind of a Pollyanna-ish sort of way to gamble, no?? 

Still, following in that same sort of logic chain, I could get pregnant this time, right??  All it really takes is one single swimmer to meet my one luscious egg, right??  Hey, I know my biology; I know that’s a fact!  Besides, women get pregnant all the bloody time without trying, so sooner or later it’s bound to happen for me, right?? Because after all, I’m actually trying to get pregnant!  If I keep at this reproduction thing, it’s bound to pay off for me, right??  I’ve heard the stories… I’ve seen the women up at my RE’s office who have had success at this, and they’re not that different than me.  Okay, maybe some of them are thinner, and some of them are younger, but I’ve seen ladies up there that look about the same age and shape as I am.  Surely it’ll happen for me! 

Guess we’ll find out if I win this time, huh?  :oÞ

So far, Gonal-F’s not really impressing me March 15, 2008

Had an ultrasound yesterday, to make sure my ovaries haven’t gone into hyperdrive with the Gonal-F.  No worries there, y’all.  According to my nurse, Maria, I have one follie that was at 16 yesterday, and five smaller ones, not really worth speaking about.  Damnation.  Same bloody results as I got with the Clomid, only much, much more expensive.  Still, I’m going to inject myself with Ovidrel tomorrow night at 9PM, to get ready for an IUI come this next Tuesday at 9AM. 

The best thing about this is that I’m on Spring Break as of yesterday, thank goodness.  No having to take a half-day off, or any time off from work.  That makes me happy,  because I always feel like I’m abandoning my students, not to mention inflicting cruel and unusual punishment onto the poor sub who winds up watching my demon spawn.  I always leave stuff for them to do, but I know how they behave. 

They’re not very concerned with their work, or, consequently, their grades.  It’s hard to find anything that they do care about at school.  Sadly, the majority of them couldn’t care less about failing a class.  Or, if they do care, they don’t care enough to put forth much effort regarding the matter.  The future of our nation, ladies and gentlemen… be afraid.   

*Big cleansing breath in, annoyance about students out* 

So, where was I?  Oh yes… Gonal-F and its poor turnout.  I have to say that I’m kind of sickened that my ridiculous ovaries only managed to produce one darned follicle of any noteworthy size this cycle whilst on the highly priced Gonal-F.  I mean, what the hell???  Look, gentlefolk, I totally understand that it’s all basically a crapshoot and stuff, truly I do.  I comprehend the fact that no one can guarantee certain results when it comes to IF treatments.  I get it, okay universe??  But, can’t you find a way to spread the wealth as well as you manage to do so with the not-so-good tidings??  Please? 

I mean, I am not an evil person.  I wouldn’t be a horrible mother.  Between you and I, I think I’d be frickin’ awesome as a mother.  I can guarantee you that any child I happen to ever carry within my womb will be very much wanted, and very much loved.  Honest!  I just want the chance to prove it.  Even if it’s only once. 

Seriously, if you need references, I can get them for you. 

Nope. No baby. March 10, 2008

Not this past cycle, anyways.  So, I beg, borrow, steal, comparative shop, and manage to order the Gonal-F for about $600 less at a different locale, thank God.  I ordered it this past Friday, and it was shipped that night, scheduled to arrive at my house by noon the next day.  I was told that if it didn’t arrive by then, to give them a call. 

Uh huh.  You guessed it.  No meds by noon.  I called the company, who traced the FedEx package, and it’s been delayed by weather.  The crappy thing is that I have to start injecting the Gonal-f on Sunday, so something has to happen to get some of this pricey stuff to me in time for this to happen as scheduled.  The company I used was really cool about it.  The customer care rep called a (relatively) local pharmacy and paid for me to come and pick up the smaller package of the stuff there. 

The reason I say that it’s relatively local is that it is in the same city.  Only a mere 23 miles away.  Heh.  So, I pile into the SUV and head to the fancier part of town, where the people walking down the street don’t look like gangstas.  They even know where their waists are, and somehow manage to keep their pants pulled up to that locale, in spite of the tremendous pull of gravity experienced on pants on the east side of town, where I live. 

Nice pharmacy, too.  A real Mom & Pop kind of place, ”where everybody knows your name”, so to speak.  It’s funny, though.  When I get there, the lead pharmacist asks me where I live, and I tell him.  He replies, “Oh, we were wondering - we didn’t recognize the ZIP code.”  Somehow, in this idyllic setting, that doesn’t surprise me.  I can’t imagine anyone from this neck of the woods being unfortunate enough to have to darken my side of town, where we don’t have Ben & Jerry’s stores, or epicurean markets, or storefronts that offer “Massage”, and actually mean it instead of something seedier. 

Don’t get me wrong…the particular neighborhood where I live isn’t all bad, but there are some places not far from there that are pretty yucky.  F and I moved there with the intent on moving elsewhere after three years, and now, I don’t think we will.  We’ll (hopefully) remodel this one, and keep it for the time being.  It’s in a quiet neighborhood, on a quiet street.  I honestly don’t know if we could find another location - as safe as this one is - as close to where I teach. 

In addition, there’s not a bookstore within ten miles.  Pitiful, actually.  We’re like the red-headed stepchildren of the city, here on the east side of town.  We have fast food places to eat, and a few decent sit-down restaurants, but hardly the fare that’s available uptown.  This city has some really spectacular restaurants, clubs, and museums on the west side of town.  On this side of town, we have refineries, and chemical-ridden air.  What a deal, huh?

F was home all weekend, with back spasms.  (I tell you, he’s falling apart, folks.  Sheesh.)  We went to the Urgent Care Center on Friday afternoon, and the doctor there prescribed him some Flexeril, and some Vicodin for the pain.  Sadly though, F wasn’t enjoying a nice buzz of any kind.  He’s still hurting.  I really wish his back would behave itself, and stop seizing, already.  If not, he’ll have to go to his regular doctor, who will take Xrays and tell us what we already know - he’s suffering from back spasms.  He called in sick again today.  That makes three days now without money coming in.  I realize how very petty and small that sounds, but we’re living on a razor’s edge between being able to pay our bills each month, and financial disaster.  There’s not a whole hell of a lot of leeway. 

Ah well.  Enough of that, eh?  I’ve got to stop being such a gripey ol’ heifer. 

~~Change of Subject~~

Have I mentioned that I’m giving up caffeine this cycle?  I’ve decided that I’m bigger than my urges for caffeine, so I’m going to give it up, all in the interest of becoming pregnant.  It can’t hurt my chances of fertilization, only help.  Now, I may wind up with the King Kamehameha of all headaches, but that too shall pass.  Most headaches are fleeting, after all.

I’m a bit concerned about taking this Gonal-F, mostly because its side effects include difficulty breathing.  I don’t need that.  Fat asthmatics like myself don’t do well with the whole ‘difficulty breathing’ thing.  Let’s hope that stays away.