Village Court and Walmart

Husband here. There's no real news on the fertility front. I did want to take a moment to make a point about something that's been bothering me. I'm not sure if Wife has mentioned this in the past but it is something that has become acutely aware to me over the last week. If Wife and I had got drunk and fornicated at 15 years old, we would undoubtedly have gotten pregnant.

Now I know this happens to people and I'm in no way trying to attack people who have had this experience and made something of their life. To them I congratulate wholeheartedly. Likewise, to those teen mothers and fathers who give their children up for adoption, I cannot help but admire your bravery in the face of adverse circumstances. Nor do I mean to imply by doing things the "right" way we have undermined our own reproductive potential.

That said, I went to traffic court this past week. I was most definitely guilty of the charges made (talking on my cell phone while driving, stupid New York), and sheepishly paid my fine. But while there, I couldn't help but do a little people watching of my fellow criminals. I'm not sure if it was the gut wrenching body odor of the lovely man sitting two seats next to me, the vulgar diatribes of the underfed meth addicts in the corner, or the incessant whining of the juvenile offender about how he couldn't afford a speeding ticket on his $8/hr income, but I came to a realization that there are entirely too many people in this world. Worse is that the relative fertility of these less than savory characters is exponentially greater than my own.

This then brings me to pointing out a flaw in Darwin's theory of natural selection. I can think of no biological imperative that would cause a species to select for its stupidest members in terms of their fecundity. At the current rate of growth of this other half of the human population, I can't help but fear that in 10 years time Dan Brown or Stephenie Meyer (I stand corrected) will be considered fine literature. But wait we're already there................NO!!!!

Oh and for visual evidence of this, our dear friend Lissa turned me on to this website.

Terminology

Is it still a pregnancy scare when you are trying to get pregnant? Shouldn't there be another term for it? Like

False hope

Pregnancy tease

A cruel joke

or Just plain $^!++#
(I bleeped that last one because my mom sometimes reads this blog and I don't want to lose her respect)

Any other ideas?

Your Husband Is Evidently Not A Man

Husband here making an unusual appearance at mybrokenuterus. Now I thought about creating a brother site (cos I'm a dude of course) entitled mybrokentestes, but I thought it wouldn't get the kind of traffic I'd like....and well, I'm emasculated enough without reading the comments a site with that kind of name would get.

Now let us go onwards to the point of this post. God has a fantastic sense of humor. One need only look at some of the fantastically ugly things in this world to realize that. For example duck-billed platypi (I'm sure I pluralized that wrong), Patrick Ewing, and the whole state of Nevada are all things only a mother could love. In Nevada's case that would be a drunken abusive mother, but I digress.

For me personally this whole infertility thing has been a revelation of divine humor, what follows will show this fact in clear and probably too vivid detail.

Now let me get it out of the way first by stating that I'm fine. Our first fertility doctor even told me that I'd be an ideal donor candidate, if you know what I mean. The nurses and doctor in this round of treatment were not quite as effulgent in praise of my man seed. They said my volume and shape was average, but....

Now anytime you're in fertility treatment and a doctor or nurse utters the word "but" you know the other shoe is about to drop. In this case the shoe was made of lead and it was aimed directly at my groin. But they said, I'm a bit on the low side of average in terms of testosterone.

So evidently I've got an ample sample but they'd all rather sit around watching the Lifetime Movie Network than swim to the goal. That's fine though I can deal with that. The treatment obviously would be something to boost my T-levels, like hunting, or watching Nascar, or enjoying a Jean-Claude Van Damme movie marathon right? Nope. Instead they did the most obvious medical thing, they put me on Clomid.

(I pause in this account for you to recover yourself and possible change your pants if you've wet yourself)

Over the years we've had many friends (always female) who have needed to go on Clomid to conceive. One of these friends I believe threatened her husband with a steak knife while on the drug. If you know me personally you also know that I have the emotional range of a 15 year old house cat. Yeah I know emotions are out there, but seriously I'd much rather nap in the sun than express my feelings.

So it was with much trepidation that I began my Clomid regiment. The first 27 days or so were fine. I didn't pull a knife on my wife, I didn't rent any more Hugh Grant movies than normal, and I certainly didn't express my emotions more than usual. Then came day 28.

I'm not sure what set it off but all of the sudden my emotions went out of control. I was convinced Wife was against me. I was sad, angry, happy, frustrated all simultaneously. Not to mention the fact that I had an insatiable desire for ice cream.

By the morning things were back to normal, but let this be a lesson to all you women out there. If you want your husband to know what a period is like, just put him on a monthly cycle of clomid. Seriously honey any time you want we can stay at home and watch Oprah.

---

Epilogue:
The most amusing part of this whole event is that after they took the additional blood work following my Clomid cycle, they never gave me any results to tell me if it made me more of a man. At least it didn't get me pregnant!

My name is Carolyn and I'm on drugs

Probably the hardest thing for me in all this is how no one has ever found anything wrong with me. The dr. even gave my tubes an A and he never gives anyone's tubes an A. So I don't know if there's really nothing wrong with me, or there is something so wrong that our modern medicine cannot find it yet. In 30 or 50 years maybe, but not yet.

Because there's nothing "wrong" with me, doctors cannot treat me for any disease of malformation. Instead, they treat my symptom of not being able to get pregnant.

I do need to interject here that I am very happy with my dr. and everyone in his office and I know they are doing the best they can with the available knowledge. But here are some of the drugs I've been prescribed, along with wording from their packages. I'm one of those people who reads every word accompanying a prescription, but maybe its better not knowing.

Letrazole-"not to be used in women of childbearing age" (this one caused spotting every day I took it)
Prometrium-"used to restore normal menstrual periods that have stopped for several months" (not a problem for me)
Chorionic Gonado-"hormone used in boys (before puberty) to cause the normal dropping of the testicles into the scrotum" (there's more here but this is sufficient for my readers)
Estradiol-"may increase your risk of . . . dimentia"

I haven't had to take them all yet, but I have to have them on hand in case. I see it as part of my food storage. If bad times come we can all subsist on fertility meds, right? And Goya.

I am afraid...

...that all this will work and I'll get pregnant...that all this will not work and I won't get pregnant...that I'll only ever have one kid...that I won't be able to carry a baby to term...that I won't get my body back after having a kid...that it will negatively affect my relationship with Husband...that I'm not emotionally strong enough to handle this...that I won't be a good mother...that my kid will be THAT kid...that I won't have a kid until I'm 40...that I won't have the patience...that labor will be too painful...that I won't be able to breastfeed.

Ah, it feels good to get that off my chest.

In exciting news, we might have a guest blogger at mybrokenuterus soon.

The crazies

I had hopes that this time would be different. I've done fertility drugs before and they gave me a good case of the crazies. This time I'm on a more mild drug that works its way through the system more quickly but is supposed to have similar success rates. I thought that since it was more mild I would avoid the emotional roller coaster from before. But no. Poor Husband. It is nice to have an excuse for the crying but it is different from the normal bouts I have throughout the month.

"It is what it is"

That is the motto that was on the dr.'s company polo shirt that he was wearing when he met with me just before my surgery. On one side it had the name of his practice, on the other was this phrase. It struck me as odd. I guess it's one more thing to ask about during my post op.

That is all.

Not Sarcoidosis

Yesterday was my big day. We showed up to the hospital a little before noon and I didn't have any time to sit and read and get nervous. I was really impressed with the hospital, the least known of the Albany hospitals. I had about an hour in the surgery prep room before they got the iv going and I realized that there are a lot of old people in hospitals. I was by far the youngest person there who wasn't working.

Around 1pm I was taken into the OR and before long I was out. The next thing I knew I was waking up in the recovery room and FREEZING. I guess that can happen with an iv. But the nurses brought over warm towels every few minutes for me. Like I said, I was impressed with everything about this hospital. I got so cold that my teeth chattered at some points. And I noticed that I couldn't move my midsection normally. But I didn't really feel any pain.

After about an hour in the recovery room of warm blankets and juice I slowly dressed myself (yay I can dress myself!) I was wheelchaired to the curb where Husband waited with a warm car.

Because I was still kind of out of it the dr. talked to Stewart and not me after the surgery. He sent us home with some notes and photos. I will not be putting these photos on the blog. It turns out the the dr. did remove my friendly little cyst and they're going to run some tests on it. But other than that I am perfectly healthy down there. So congratulations Mia, you win. I stumpled the dr. so you're invited to the birth, which may or may never happen. I'm a little bummed. I feel like two days ago we didnt' know anything and we still don't know anything except that there's not really anything to know. But I'm glad that I did this and that I skipped the HSG test because it wouldn't have shown anything that the surgery didn't and I would have then had the surgery anyway.

I am feeling pretty good as long as I don't stretch or bend my midsection. I havn't had to take any pain meds because I don't feel any pain, just a minute of discomfort when I lie down or roll over or when the cat jumps on my belly. Husband has been great and a friend brought dinner over last night. Thanks for all the well wishes, prayers and just general good thoughts.

And They Took MORE Blood

As I prepare for the forthcoming surgery there have been several trips to the doctor's office and the lab for bloodwork. Everytime I step through the door, they take more blood. I don't mind. I even enjoy watching but it is so hard to get the blood out of me. When they took just one vial today it went ok, but when they had to take six it almost didn't happen. My blood clots super well. Yay for not bleeding to death; not yay for an early stroke or heart attack.

(While I was in the waiting room at the lab to have a large amount of blood drawn I pulled the book out of my purse. I was reading Dracula. )

The dr. told me earlier this week that he's expecting to find something wrong during the exploratory surgery so he wouldn't be surprised if they have to make three or even four incisions to fix problems. I kind of freaked out after that. Two I can handle, but FOUR?! Come on.

Today they ultrasounded me (internally, with the long stick stuck in my hoo-ha.) Apparently I have a newly arrived cyst on one of my ovaries so I expect that will come off during the surgery so I'm already up to 3 incisions for sure. And I spent the morning after that news freaking out some. I know its not a big deal, but still...

And they are testing me every few days for pregnancy because then they won't do the surgery. I should win some kind of award, but no surgery. This would be the time when my body would decide to work-just when I'm being proactive about the problem. So, to ensure that I don't get pregnant, husband and I have to contracept for the next few days. They didn't prescribe birth control because my hormones are right where they should be so I had to buy condoms as part of my efforts to get pregnant. Seems wrong, I know.

Great! So now I'm THAT Patient

The trip would be worth rescheduling the long awaited surgery. Lunch at the Culinary Institute of America, Hyde Park, NYC Museums or a show, The Daily Show with John Stewart. It will be good.

So I called to reschedule my surgery. This is after I had to go through the whole changing of the health insurance so it took me longer than usual to even schedule the surgery to begin with. I am certain that I have a note in my file to the effect of, "She's not energetic about finding out what's wrong. Don't work too hard at fixing her." After a nice chat with Maria about the trip and its details (she said it was important so she could determine whether or not we could still do the surgery, but I think she's a little jealous of such a fantastic gift) she decided that I can still go ahead as planned.

Except, that, on the Monday of the trip (The day we see the Daily Show) I can only have liquids. New York City and not being allowed to eat? Come on. And when we're 20 minutes from home I have to take a laxative. If we hit traffic 15 minutes out there will be problems.

I'm now taking bets on what is wrong with me. Winner gets invited to the birth.

A word about health insurance

I am not advocating for socialized medicine. It would not solve all of our problems and it would not solve any of them without creating new ones.

But it is such a pain. Husband's company changes health care plans every year because of cost so we have to re-do all of our paperwork with doctors every January. This year, because I'd just found a fertility dr. that I really love I held my breath, hoping that he would still be covered in the new plan. Not listed in the provider book but my old dr. (the one I hated) was listed as covered. I became suspicious of the book because that dr. retired two years ago. A call to customer service confirmed that the new dr. IS now covered, their book is just WAY outdated. Ok, dr. is covered. What about treatments? Fortunately my surgery is still covered.

But honestly, why does it have to be this difficult. Why can't all insurances cover all doctors? Not to mention our ever increasing co-pays and premiums. As if being broken isn't frustrating enough!

Oh, and I will need to reschedule the surgery because Husband is taking me out of town when I was going to have it done. Best case scenario, it will only set me back three days, worst case scenario, a month. What's one more month on top of 6+ years, though. It had better be a good trip, is all I'm saying.

And the diagnosis is...

Nothing. At least not yet. But the new dr. did not send me home with some prescription for some drug that may or may not work with whatever condition(s) I may or may not have. Here's how it went down, Husband and I met with the PA or NP or whoever for a good long while during our first visit to the new clinic. She explained in great detail some of the things that could be wrong. (Did you know that some women do not have fallopian tubes, and, conversely, that some women have two of some of their parts?) And if you are missing, say your fallopian tubes, then clomed will make you ovulate more, but they will then just float through your body, searching for sperm around the lungs, kidneys and wherever else the little ova journey before they disappear, sad and useless, just like all their sisters before them.

So, we were basically given two options for the next step in the diagnosis process. The first option is for me to have two procedures done, one of which is an HSG test and can be VERY painful. Even if this goes well and only causes me serious pain, it may be inconclusive and still require me to have option #2 done as well. The second option is for me to have minor out patient surgery where they will cut into my abdomen and send a scope in and have a look around, to make sure that I have all the parts I am supposed to have and that nothing is blocked, or if something is, they may just unblock it then and that may fix it. I doubt it will be that easy for us, but you never know. I kind of picture the dr. cutting me open and taking out my insides to have a look at them. Too bad I'll be asleep and unable to see what he does, eh?

Almost immediately I decided to go ahead with the surgery, but they want to run blood tests and this was just a week before Christmas and our insurance was set to change at the first of the year so we figured we'd wait until 2009. And here it is. I'm kind of looking forward to being cut open. I've never had surgery before and I have only been put all the way under when I had my wisdom teeth taken out. I have a ton of sick time at work so I'll be able to recover fully from home. Maybe I'll even get a present out of Husband for it. Or a baby. Either way.

So my experience with this dr. has been SO MUCH BETTER than the dr. I saw before. I feel so good about going here and I still am not convinced that I will ever be pregnant but I am excited about the process.