My Broken Uterus

Recovering

2012-02-04T23:07:00.004-05:00

Lest anyone think that I'm stronger than I am, these past few weeks have sucked. They've sucked monkeyballs. I get very sad and cry a lot and Stewart holds me and never tells me not to cry. But we're making it through. And I think we're doing well at it even.

I've been back at work for three weeks, only took one week off. The routine is really nice. Everyone at work has been wonderful, they still don't want me lifting anything. It's kind of hard for me to let others do stuff I should be able to do.

My birthday's coming up later this month and the husband asked what I'd like. I told him I could really use a new ovary. And I even found a place where he could get me one. But alas, he got me some other stuff, including a movie I recently bought for him. Is a replacement ovary something a girl can buy herself? I don't know the etiquette on this one.

I still can't exercise, I'm giving myself until the aforementioned birthday to take it easy a bit so I have more free time than I'm used to. Which means that my house is cleaner than it usually is, and I watch more tv too.

At my follow-up appointment with the doctor we reviewed the results of all of my lab work that I had done the day before I exploded. Interesting stuff. She tested me for clotting factors, given my family and personal history. I had no markers for Factor 5 Leiden (yay!) but one marker of two other clotting factors. Nothing to be too concerned about but she may put me on a baby aspirin regimen when I get pregnant again. And my vitamin D levels were dangerously low so I have some pills to take. And I tested negative for every single STD. Double Yay! But not surprising.

Surprisingly, the doctor said that we can start trying to get pregnant again right away. I was worried she'd want me to wait a year. That being said, we're not ready yet. Stewart isn't terribly excited to do something that almost cost me my life the last time I tried it. So we'll wait. But not forever.

I used to be scared of giving birth. What if I need a c-section. What if it hurts more than I expect and I want an epidural? Well, I'm not concerned with those things anymore. I'll be able to handle it. And a c-section will be just one more layer to have cut open than what I had done last month and this recovery has been alright, not as bad as expected.

The fallopian tube and ovary I lost were on my left side. When I ran through our glass door as a child, the stitches I got and all the scars I have are on the left side of my face and my left wrist. When I was hit in the head with a golf-ball at 17 and got stitches again, it was on the left side of my face. While out running with the husband last year I biffed it and road rashed my left knee, left shoulder, and still have a faint scar under my left eye. I'm pretty sure that I'll wake up one morning, my left arm having fallen off, a huge clot in its place.

We're going away for Mother's Day weekend. I just don't think I'll be able to handle church that day. So we're planning a trip to Pittsburgh where we'll hit a baseball game and run a cancer-fighting race. Father's Day is up to Stewart but I think he wants to stay here because last year the RS gave all the men candy bars and he's sucker for a Nutrageous.

Despite the all around suckiness of this situation, there is still so very much I'm grateful for in how this has played out. I can't say enough good things about the hospital we went to, though I haven't gotten the bill yet. Because its part of the Catholic Health system here in town, they bury the remains of all the miscarried babies in a local cemetery and hold a memorial service twice a year. We'll be invited to the next one. I received a card from the housekeeper on the ob-gyn floor. They sent me home with some letters and poems from the chaplin's staff there. While my religious beliefs are not exactly the same as those of the Catholic church I am so grateful for the support system from the hospital and that the remains will be buried. If Stewart ever becomes a filthy rich lawyer we'll add a wing onto the hospital. And maybe get me that new ovary.

Even though some of you already know...

2012-01-11T21:57:00.005-05:00

I took this test two days after Christmas while we were staying in my sister's basement in Utah. I didn't believe it because we hadn't met with any doctors, or spent thousands of dollars trying to get pregnant. So I didn't tell the husband. But he kept bugging me about how my period should have started. So two days later I took another one, same result, and shared it with him.

Excited! Thrilled! Scared! Still a little unbelieving, so I took five more over the next week. And found an ob-gyn once I got home. We weren't sure when we'd tell everyone but we knew we at least wanted to wait until we were sure that it wasn't just vacation-diet induced nausea.

I met with my doctor on Thursday, she confirmed and sent me for a sonogram. The tech wasn't available that night so I scheduled it for a week out, when they had evening hours since I had just missed a lot of work and wanted to go after work hours. I didn't want anyone at work to suspect yet.

Sunday evening while making my famous chicken parm I felt some cramps, got a little worried but since there was not bleeding I thought I'd just wait it out. I'd never been pregnant before and thought this might be normal. After the pain got worse I realized that this couldn't be normal, had the husband call my dr, get her answering service, and she called me back. She happened to be at the hospital that day, working already, and suggested that we come to the ER to get it checked out.

By the time we got to the ER I was in a lot more pain, which only got worse while we waited for our turn. And I puked. Several times. Finally they take me back, get me all hospital-gowned and start examining me. While all the medical personnel are out of the room, I decide to use the bathroom. Before I make it very far, I pass out, totally, hitting my head on a table on my way down. Husband panics, rightfully, and calls for help. We find that this is the most effective way to get attention in a hospital. Noted.

Sonogram and ultrasounds later, my doctor has joined us and they've alerted the OR to get ready for me. Turns out it's a ruptured ectopic pregnancy, pretty severe. At this point the pain is bad enough that I cannot wait for them to knock me out and cut me open so they can fix me. The iv in my arm missed my vein, my arm swells up and hurts like a son of a gun. A man who was having a routine appendectomy gets bumped because I'm in a worse way. Doctor tells Stewart that she plans on going in with a scope, should be done and in recovery in about an hour.

While scoping out my belly, doctor finds out that I have a lot of blood in my body cavity. A lot. So doctor has to open me up to get all the blood out. And to remove the burst fallopian tube, and it turns out, ovary. This ends up taking much longer than the hour that husband was expecting. Meanwhile he spends what I can only imagine is a horrible amount of time in the ICU waiting room. He calls our parents. And I understand he cried some.

I wake up in the ICU three hours later with a lot of people around. I think I lost about 40% of my blood, hence the passing out. I received three units of donated blood and some plasma to boot. And I have a nice long scar on my belly. And no more fallopian tube or ovary on my left side. And I hurt. A lot. It was a busy night in the ICU, Stewart and I slept when we could but I was hooked up to all sorts of machines and nurses came to take my vitals every few hours. Stewart and a friend of ours gave me a blessing Monday evening, before they moved me from the ICU to the normal ob-gyn floor.

The past few days have been filled with tests of all sorts, hospital food, visits and calls/texts from wonderful people, flowers and tears. And even hugs. Wonderful hugs. I wouldn't have traded spaces with Stewart for anything. I much prefer being the one cut open to the one who was left waiting, possibly being widowed.

I am healing, the physical scars will be healed very soon. The emotional scars will last for the rest of my life. But it will be ok. Really and truly. I am still happy, with moments of sadness. I have been so grateful that the hospital we came to is the Catholic one in town. I highly recommend both my doctor (Doctor Julie Gavin) and Sisters of Charity Hospital if you ever need medical care in Buffalo. I've received cards and flowers from people that I never expected. Stewart and I will be a stronger couple because of this, I will be a stronger, more worthy person because of this. And I've even smiled this week. And laughed.

I've left out a lot. But I'm more than happy to share on a more personal level if it will ever help. I am so happy to be alive and to be able to move forward. I am excited to see my mom who is coming to help for the next few days. I am grateful to feel the love and prayers from so many people. You make this much easier than it otherwise would be.

I've been reading General Conference talks for my scripture study these last few nights in the hospital. Tonight I read Elder Hale's talk. Last night I read Elder Uchtdorf's talk where I found my new favorite quote ever, "We have the incomprehensible promise of exaltation—worlds without end—within our grasp. And it is God’s great desire to help us reach it." It's true. It's all true. And I intend to reach it. With Stewart.

Allow me to Vent

2011-11-15T19:00:00.004-05:00

Even apart from the usual not-being-pregnant suckiness, I just really hate my period. I'm uncomfortable and disgusting and I just feel all around gross. And a little bit hurty. Then the hormones and moodiness kick in. I'll break down crying if even the smallest thing goes awry. I'll cry some and maybe throw plates at the wall. Except we recently bought some new plates so I'll have the presence of mind to throw the old, already chipped plates instead of my new shiny plates. Stewart's out for the evening, helping with a move, which is probably good for him. I don't need a target for said plate-throwing. Then I'll cry myself to sleep tonight and I'll be fine tomorrow. Just like every month. Sadly, this is normal.

So I came home from work today and made myself a chocolate silk pie. Because my chocolate silk pie has raw eggs in it. I know you can make it without the salmonella but this way it's comfort food that is bad otherwise. And I buy good eggs so I like to think that my risks of an egg-born illness are lessened. But it has to chill for three hours. (see previous statement about something not going right) So for now it's me and the Lifetime Network, I mean Comedy Central, I mean the news. Whatever.

Some Much Needed Perspective

2011-04-23T20:08:00.002-04:00

When I run I don't listen to music. It doesn't do anything to motivate me. But a session of the LDS church's General Conference sure does. So during my run this morning I heard one of the speakers recite a story given by Hugh B. Brown before I was born. I love this story so I'm going to share it now.

You sometimes wonder whether the Lord really knows what he ought to do with you. You sometimes wonder if you know better than he does about what you ought to do and ought to become. I am wondering if I may tell you a story that I have told quite often in the Church. It is a story that is older than you are. It’s a piece out of my own life, and I’ve told it in many stakes and missions. It has to do with an incident in my life when God showed me that he knew best.

I was living up in Canada. I had purchased a farm. It was run-down. I went out one morning and saw a currant bush. It had grown up over six feet high. It was going all to wood. There were no blossoms and no currants. I was raised on a fruit farm in Salt Lake before we went to Canada, and I knew what ought to happen to that currant bush. So I got some pruning shears and went after it, and I cut it down, and pruned it, and clipped it back until there was nothing left but a little clump of stumps. It was just coming daylight, and I thought I saw on top of each of these little stumps what appeared to be a tear, and I thought the currant bush was crying. I was kind of simpleminded (and I haven’t entirely gotten over it), and I looked at it, and smiled, and said, “What are you crying about?” You know, I thought I heard that currant bush talk. And I thought I heard it say this: “How could you do this to me? I was making such wonderful growth. I was almost as big as the shade tree and the fruit tree that are inside the fence, and now you have cut me down. Every plant in the garden will look down on me, because I didn’t make what I should have made. How could you do this to me? I thought you were the gardener here.” That’s what I thought I heard the currant bush say, and I thought it so much that I answered. I said, “Look, little currant bush, I am the gardener here, and I know what I want you to be. I didn’t intend you to be a fruit tree or a shade tree. I want you to be a currant bush, and some day, little currant bush, when you are laden with fruit, you are going to say, ‘Thank you, Mr. Gardener, for loving me enough to cut me down, for caring enough about me to hurt me. Thank you, Mr. Gardener.’”

Time passed. Years passed, and I found myself in England. I was in command of a cavalry unit in the Canadian Army. I had made rather rapid progress as far as promotions are concerned, and I held the rank of field officer in the British Canadian Army. And I was proud of my position. And there was an opportunity for me to become a general. I had taken all the examinations. I had the seniority. There was just one man between me and that which for ten years I had hoped to get, the office of general in the British Army. I swelled up with pride. And this one man became a casualty, and I received a telegram from London. It said: “Be in my office tomorrow morning at 10:00,” signed by General Turner in charge of all Canadian forces. I called in my valet, my personal servant. I told him to polish my buttons, to brush my hat and my boots, and to make me look like a general because that is what I was going to be. He did the best he could with what he had to work on, and I went up to London. I walked smartly into the office of the General, and I saluted him smartly, and he gave me the same kind of a salute a senior officer usually gives—a sort of “Get out of the way, worm!” He said, “Sit down, Brown.” Then he said, “I’m sorry I cannot make the appointment. You are entitled to it. You have passed all the examinations. You have the seniority. You’ve been a good officer, but I can’t make the appointment. You are to return to Canada and become a training officer and a transport officer. Someone else will be made a general.” That for which I had been hoping and praying for ten years suddenly slipped out of my fingers.

Then he went into the other room to answer the telephone, and I took a soldier’s privilege of looking on his desk. I saw my personal history sheet. Right across the bottom of it in bold, block-type letters was written, “THIS MAN IS A MORMON.” We were not very well liked in those days. When I saw that, I knew why I had not been appointed. I already held the highest rank of any Mormon in the British Army. He came back and said, “That’s all, Brown.” I saluted him again, but not quite as smartly. I saluted out of duty and went out. I got on the train and started back to my town, 120 miles away, with a broken heart, with bitterness in my soul. And every click of the wheels on the rails seemed to say, “You are a failure. You will be called a coward when you get home. You raised all those Mormon boys to join the army, then you sneak off home.” I knew what I was going to get, and when I got to my tent, I was so bitter that I threw my cap and my saddle brown belt on the cot. I clinched my fists and I shook them at heaven. I said, “How could you do this to me, God? I have done everything I could do to measure up. There is nothing that I could have done—that I should have done—that I haven’t done. How could you do this to me?” I was as bitter as gall.

And then I heard a voice, and I recognized the tone of this voice. It was my own voice, and the voice said, “I am the gardener here. I know what I want you to do.” The bitterness went out of my soul, and I fell on my knees by the cot to ask forgiveness for my ungratefulness and my bitterness.

Slowly getting back into blogging

2011-02-07T19:02:00.003-05:00

I'm not sure I'm willing to do this to my unborn children.

I'll post more soon, I promise.

The Game of Life

2010-04-19T19:12:00.004-04:00

We had some friends over for dinner last night. After we ate, five of us played the Game of Life. One of my favorites from growing up, just behind Trouble and Shutes and Ladders.

Stewart got married and had many children with his little pink, plastic wife. The other three playing did the same with their little plastic spouses.

I, and my little blue man, had no children.

It wouldn't be so bad if this didn't happen

EVERY SINGLE TIME

I've played the Game of Life in the past few years.

Honestly. Anybody want our copy of this horrible terrible game?

And I'M A MAN!

2010-04-01T14:58:00.006-04:00

When I post on any of our blogs I tend to imagine myself as a modern Demosthenes or Cicero. Instead of reading my cubic zirconium of sagacity (much more apt than pearls of wisdom), I envision all my readers encircling me with looks of awed reverence in the Agora. I guess I have some demagogic tendencies after all...look out Glenn Beck (that's for you Cindra).

My outstanding oratorical skills have little to do with the capacity of my man-seed to produce an heir to my greatness, but I fear that my last post regarding my reproductive short comings might have left a false impression. Lest you, my disciples, think me deficient in any way, let it be known that the latest test results have vindicated me.

I am not substandard, indeed I'm not even twice the man you think me to be. My manhood cannot be quantified. I am Übermensch. It's good to be the king.

....sorry I may be off caffeine but I'm still hyper.

No Hopes Here

2010-03-02T12:56:00.004-05:00

The main reason I have this blog is to document more of my infertility than just the success we'll have when we finally get a kid through some means. I felt like all I the stories I would hear were about couples after they had a child and that doesn' t help with the feelings of isolation, especially when you belong to a church that is so family oriented.

I knew I wasn't pregnant this month. Even though I had taken fertility drugs, I just knew. Even though my period was a week late, I knew it would come, eventually. One of the worst things about fertility drugs, at least for me, is that they mess up an otherwise fairly regular cycle.

So I found myself without a period for one extra day, then another, then another. But I didn't get my hopes up this time. Sure I thought about how our lives would be different if I was pregnant, but I knew full well that I'm not now. When husband asked when he could panic, I told him to wait 9 months.

I didn't take a pregnancy test this time because I knew it would be a waste of money and urine. And I don't like peeing on a stick unless I have to. And I didn't have to this month.

But I still felt sad and disappointed when I found out for sure that I'm not pregnant. And a little relieved, is that wrong? For all our efforts (ok, mostly my efforts, husband only makes occasional efforts:) I still feel totally unprepared in almost every way. And the ways in which I do feel prepared I know deep down that I am the least prepared. I know this is normal.

So I took the day off from work and working out and had ice cream for breakfast/lunch (I slept til noon so I'm not sure what meal it was).

And we will try again.

I promise I am not as depressed as this post makes me sound. I get one day a month to feel sorry for myself and I'm taking it.

A Blind Rage

2010-01-31T19:02:00.002-05:00

I'm currently on letrazole for a week or so, since I will NEVER go back to clomid. The side effects are much easier on letrazole, but not non-existent still (and I don't think cancer is as possible with letrazole). I may not be feeling any, to be honest.

But I'm going to blame my pissiness of late on the drug, and not my general nature. I like to think that I usually let things roll off my back, but for some reason I was REALLY mad last night.

And who knows, maybe I'll look back at one night of anger and long for something so simple. And at least I didn't have to punch a wall or person or cat to feel better. Maybe Husband has noticed worse side effects.

A little preparation

2010-01-28T18:12:00.003-05:00

So while I wait for the drugs to take effect and make a baby inside me I've been focusing on things I can control and change to maybe encourage such baby making. Since I've got this extra time, I figured that I can focus on being as healthy as possible so that when the doctor impregnates me (with husband's sperm, I hope) the environment will be the most hospitable for growing life. It helps to have goals and takes my mind off the maddening procedures and tests and disappointments and other things that I can't control so much.

I have been taking my prenatal vitamins regularly for the past several months. I usually get frustrated with the lack of pregnancy and quit for weeks at a time, but I guess I finally realized that won't help.

I exercise regularly. Mostly running. Outside whenever possible, but on the treadmill when it's too cold or rainy or snowing. Even in NY I've had some days this winter when I've been able to run outside.

Husband and I gave us soda, candy and chips for the year, which should help me avoid gestational diabetes and a child who is born pre-hyped up on sugar.

I eat yogurt almost everyday, if it's in the house. I don't really like yogurt, but I've been told that it can help with the whole hospitable environment issue. And I had to replace my morning candy break with something.

These are the physical things I've been doing to prepare my body for growing a baby, but I'm also emphasizing the spiritual and mental as well, but more on those later.

And it brightened my morning when I ran into a friend in the parking lot of the doctor's office. It's always good to know I'm not doing this alone, in so many ways.

Village Court and Walmart

2009-11-14T11:21:00.004-05:00

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

2009-08-31T19:15:00.003-04:00

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

2009-07-16T13:04:00.001-04:00

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

2009-04-17T21:23:00.002-04:00

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...

2009-04-07T21:17:00.004-04:00

...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

2009-04-03T07:22:00.002-04:00

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"

2009-03-12T07:06:00.000-04:00

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

2009-03-04T10:22:00.000-05:00

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

2009-02-27T19:53:00.000-05:00

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

2009-02-20T16:12:00.000-05:00

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

2009-02-16T19:27:00.000-05:00

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...

2009-01-10T21:12:00.000-05:00

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.

I never would have said that to Lance Armstrong

2008-10-27T20:02:00.000-04:00

Husband and I participated in some car shopping last week. I suppose I look my age and since I was test driving sedans the inevitable question came up.
"Do you have kids?"
"No."
"Are you going to have some?"
"Maybe, hopefully, we'll see in the coming months/years."
"Oh."
I felt pretty at ease with one salesman and his male coworker, who didn't look much older than I and since they're salesmen and worked on the personal rapport with me, I gave them more info, hoping for a pity discount in order to save some money for various procedures. We finished up the night talking in the coworker's office. Here's how it went down:

Him (pointing out the photo of a young boy on his desk): That's my son. I would love more.

Me: There's always time. I can say that to you because people are always telling me how much time I have.

Him: Actually I'm a cancer survivor. I had testicular cancer so the fact that I have one is pretty amazing.

Me (to myself with a look of horror on my face): D'oh! I suppose I'll not be getting the pity discount anymore.

Honestly, what are the odds? Testicular cancer? Really!? Touche, sir. Good day!

The Cycle Begins Again..

2008-10-06T10:51:00.000-04:00

I just left my primary care physician and I feel so good. No good news about fixing me, it wasn't that easy before and it won't be that easy this time but I feel like a medical professional actually cares. The NP who examined me was able to recommend a fertility clinic in the area that she has personal experience with. I just looked them up online and they seem like they will be SO MUCH BETTER than where I went before. I won't make my appointment until December or January but I feel good knowing what direction we're going to take then. She also recommended things I can do now to prepare for the journey.
Oh, and she told me that I have a *shy* cervix. That's a new one. Up until now the only abnormalities have been with my uterus but nothing that would keep a normal person from getting pregnant for 6 years. Something to work with at least.

Welcome

2008-09-26T22:19:00.000-04:00

This blog has been a long time coming. I registered it a while ago because I wanted this particular url (or whatever it's called) but I have not been ready to write anything. Sorry to anyone who's been waiting with baited breath. Without further ado, here' s my story:

I am infertile but I prefer the term broken. No one knows why, not me, not Husband, not any of the doctors I have been to. I find the whole process frustrating because it seems we can cure anything, except the common cold, cancer, and infertility in an otherwise healthy, young(-ish) couple. It's been six years now (and counting!) that we've been trying to get pregnant, with absolutely no avail. Not even a little avail. I have come to find that infertility is something that is not understood very well and I want to try to help. I do not expect my experiences to be all-encompassing for every infertile woman or couple out there, but with this blog, I hope to help some people understand what it is like, at least for me. It may be more information than many of you ever wanted about me/us.

I plan on beginning treatments again early next year and I want to keep a record of it, as well as to record what I have been through thus far. I will not pretend that it has been as difficult for me as it is for others and I don't want to belittle anything that anyone else has experienced or felt. I won't say that it has been particularly difficult for me. Sure, there are moments when it hurts but mostly I am happy with my lot in life and scared to even think about having kids. I want to show the humorous aspects of infertility. Really, there have been several. Read along if you wish and I apologize in advance of offending anyone who reads this, but I intend it to be a fairly naked baring of myself.

Enjoy!