CD1

Yeah, you read that right. Woo and not hoo.

not dead

Did you think I was? Oh, internets. I've missed you. There's all sorts of news, but y'all will have to live in the dark a while longer, because it's late enough for me to go to bed.
I am, as I think I noted, back at the theater and it's fab. But busy, which I'd sort of forgotten. More to come, I swear.

Worthy of quick note:
*sperm washed and IUI-ed on Friday. Seems to be a sort of don't ask, don't tell type of thing.
*home insem Saturday.
*finally got a peak from old Clear Blue. On Sunday. *sigh* Too late for the IUI, and also, I think, for the home insem. Who the fuck knows. Nothing darker than a ghost on the opks. Weird, yes? Could I have gotten a bad batch? And how the hell do I know when to start the prometrium with no positive opks to go on?
*school mother's day gifts done and done - 6 days of school left. Six. Yay.
*special home project due to start tomorrow - woo!

Lunch: left overs from last nights' dinner with cho-girl, which we ate prior to Fertility Hennaz™ - white beans with a nice bit of bacon for tastiness, beet greens with tiny, tiny beets still attached, and orange slices from snack. Log your lunch, y'all. You know you want to.bonus pic - fertility hennaz™ (there are some on my belly of course, but I didn't get a picture of those in their finished state)

lunch et cetera

Today's lunch: lamb summer sausage from the sheep's milk cheese lady, cucumber from the hothouse farm south of town, strawberries from some of the tidewater farms, sourdough (!) with butter. All local all the time. Except then I went a ruined it by scrounging some ranch dressing from Kraft or something like that.

Day's of school left: 11. That's eleven, in case you're counting, which I am.

Still no word from the sperm washing guy. Hmmmm. May be another DIY insem.

recap + lunches

Quick, while the popcorms are doing their thing on the stovetop.

*2 nights of dress rehearsal and one tornado watch
*mother's day gifts done and done (whew)
*recovering black cat and multiple meds plus new diet of canned food (also whew and eewww)
*additional meds for me (day 2 of femara)
*message left for guy in charge of sperm washing machine
*lawn mowed
*semi-surly pre-teen carted around
*jambalya made by my roommate (good food in the house that I didn't make?! yay!)
*gimlets on the back deck with I (gimlets - woo! back deck - woo!)
*popcorms

And lunches. Yesterday and today: weird pseudo-humus thing on pita with chips and doctored-up salsa. Also known as Mother's Day Lunch in the primary classes that trickles down to the lowly toddler teachers. Decent with bonus lack of lunch packing. Log your lunch, y'all.

news from the RE plus lunch and numbers

Ok, so the cat is really sick (the black one, which makes me want to cry) and I have to run her to the vet and Sophie to soccer in a minute, but I know y'all want to hear the news from the RE as much as you wanted to see my ass.

My prog numbers from last cycle came back really off - from 11.3 down to 1.something. This is so off that the RE wonders if there was some sort of lab error. Anyway, the thought, as you know, is that femara doesn't do shit to boost my prog. He's up for adding prometrium to the mix with the 2.5 mg of femara and calling it a day. And my ovaries are "quiet" and my uterine lining is nice and thin so off we go - wheeeeee! CD 4, y'all. It's CD 4.

Sperm update shortly - so far so good, as the kids say.

Lunch: yesterday there was not really any lunch, I scrounged from the dregs of the snack cabinet and ended up with cheese with the mold cut off and triscuits plus some almost ready for the compost melon. But today! Today was left over chicken (breast this time, but don't read anything into that) with psuedo-fancy sauce (mayo mixed with roast garlic) and asparagus with Bragg's and lime (no lemons in the house). That link's just for you, Clemency.

Count down: 14.

and now....

Oh, right. I'm trying to conceive, not just thinking about lunch/pants.

So the femara, it seemed so good. Three follicles! I am a good responder. But then it was on to Teh Blood Work to see if femara would fix my luteal phase defect, aka not enough prog. Woo! Blood work! I am a pro, y'all. I can pump my vein up so good, Amir, one of the lab techs (the hardcore one) doesn't even need to use a tourniquet. Hahh! I am a blood work winner. Or not.

Femara didn't do shit for my prog levels. There were many phone calls and messages passed between me and Martha, keeper of all knowledge, about when I'd go see my friend Amir, and what my prog levels meant in terms of seeing Amir again (my RE wants prog levels checked at 5, 7 and 9 dpo - he's thorough - and there's no co-pay to go to the lab and I'm a blood work star - see above - so I'll go get stuck as often as needed, although I don't always get to see Amir) and they all added up to one thing - femara does not equal increased progesterone for me. At least not at the level at which I took it this most recent time.

In one of the many messages my boss took down (Martha is her BFF now), the options were laid out for me - up the dose of femara or come in for a consult. Well, crap. I don't really like either of those options, so I made my own: Same dose of femara plus my old friend prometrium, which we know fixes my luteal phase defect. Good old Martha, she ran it by the RE and left me (yet another) message at school saying that would be fine and I should call for my early cycle wanding just as soon as I start bleeding (this is not an exact Martha quote) and that there would also be other "options" to be discussed at said wanding. Hmmmm..... looks like I get a bonus consult along with the wanding. Fab. That's only one co-pay to deal with. Plus going to the RE doesn't count in my book unless they stick something in me, so consults alone are lame-o.

So I am still hoping for an insem next cycle (i.e. in the next couple-few weeks). Word on the fertility street is that the IUI washing machine might be ready. But if that "might be" turns out to be "is" I might be running into Sperm Issues. See, I'm not getting the goods from a sperm bank, I'm getting them from The Donors You Can't Beat With A Stick. And most doctors are loathe to stick anything in a girl's hooha that hasn't been quarantined (ack! STDs! Age of Fear!) or didn't come from her state sanctioned partner (never mind that those state sanctioned partners can do things outside of those state sanctioned relationships that might put a body at risk). My bio-tranzed goods do not meet either of those requirements. So far, the RE seems willing (he seems to have little truck with bureaucracy), but we'll just have to wait and see, won't we? (Oh, stop worrying - my donor has no STD's.)

Anyway, onward and upward. Or something.

ps - Is it weird to link back to one's own blog? Discuss.

teh round-up plus bonus new idea (!)

Thanks for the sweet comments after my crap day last week, y'all. You're the best. For real.

Aren't you dying to know what I've been doing? On the edge of your collective seat? I'll give you a list o' the highlights, because who needs narrative form? Not this girl.

Thursday

• pre-ovulation wanding showed good early response to the femara: cushy lining, 3 (!) follicles - 1 on the left (12.5mm), 2 on the right (15.5mm and 13.5mm)
• dinner of potato chips, fancy cheese and bread + lambic beer with LB on the porch
  
• nothing else of note

Friday

• stupid work thing turns out to not be so stupid in the end and anyway it's over
• 2 pitchers of gimlets at IB's house! (Cut me some slack, it was a small pitcher.) Yay IB! Topics of discussion included, but were not limited to: When Bad Things Happen to Good Friends (extended mega-mix edition), Generous Parents (grateful edition), What's Going on With Our Friends (vol. 1,000,354).
  
• what can top that?

Saturday

• the market! Sightings of Elsie, plus various other folks. Lots of fab spring produce (yay real food!) and additional goods, e.g. lesbian bagels! Plus, a kid from my school was there and she had a flower with her that she'd brought, just in case she saw me. And her ever-kind mama told me she had a small box of very nice organic baby clothes that she'd love to give me, if that wouldn't be too hard for me to deal with/seem like bad luck and if it was, she'd hang onto them for a while longer and check in again. Wow - generous and understanding together are an unbeatable team. All good things happen at the market.
  
• laundry! (I heart laundry)
  
• yard work made easier and better by various neighbors (note to self, when getting plants from mom, only take as many as you can remember the names of).
• lounging made easier by finished yardwork
• coffee date that brought up some interesting ideas about doula shit

Sunday

• Teh Coffeez with cho-girl!
  
• Sunday comics!
• stupid cold rain (blah)

Monday

• bonus wanding! With New and Sure To Be Improving Med Student! Honest, I love when there are students, because I can ask even more questions and listen in on the medical banter. My RE asked the tiny med student all sorts of fertility related questions and I could answer every one. To the point the the RE told me to shut up, joking, but really I think he'd had enough out of me. So it seems I responded quite well to the femara in terms of ovulation, now we'll see what it can do for my luteal phase issues.
• more stupid cold rain (blah again)

Good job getting this far! As a prize, I'll tell you my idea. See, I used to go on this sight called "Lunch Is Fun (TM)" all the time. All the fucking time. What's better than seeing what other people ate for lunch? Also, what's better than the word lunch? Maybe the word pants. Maybe. Anyway, as I was making tomorrow's lunch just a mere hour ago, I though, well, Starrhillgirl, you could just log your lunch on your very own blog and maybe that would make you post everyday. And maybe your internet people will want to log their lunches, too! In your comments! Because you love a good comment almost as much as a good lunch!

It's like a game! We'll even give it it's own cleverly named tag: Lunch. Woo and Hoo!

So today I had a piece of quiche and a little salad of watercress (yay the market!) and lentil/bean sprouts with ponzu, which is the dressing of the month here at Starrhill. What did you eat? Remember, a good lunch can salvage a crap day, so log your lunch, y'all.

things to do when you're not pg

• dye hair
• get tattoo
• attend CLAW
• have drinks

Other ideas welcome.

So, yeah. No dice. I started bleeding on the train on the way home Monday (because disappointment is best with a chaser of inconvenience) and promptly had a scotch when I walked in the back door. On to femara.

But meanwhile, there's fabulous news over at Chicory's and on the other side of the world for Chips, nearby at Chronicles of Conception and also for my girl at Knuckle Down. Yay, y'all. Yay!

very hard meme *sigh*

She spent a great deal of time that afternoon in the back room, bent over, transferring paper from its box into the recycling bin. There were handfuls of junk mail, crushed cereal boxes, torn up offers of money from various credit card companies, all destined for a new life as toilet paper or some other useful product. Then in went the newspapers, on top of the crumpled balls of tinfoil and empty can of tomatoes. The cat whining at the door skidded out at the same time she did, recycling bin pushing open the broken storm door. The sun outside was bright still and one of the neighbors was running a lawnmower. After dropping the bin by the street with a grunt, she turned to walk back up the driveway to get the trash. And noticed a condom, unfurled in all its faded glory, on the sidewalk.

If your life were to be novelized, starting last night, how would the opening paragraph(s) read? Brand Spanking New Meme. From Chicory, Queen of the New Jobness. I tag you, LB, and you, Chips and you, I.D.A. And that's all. Unless you want to write a novel in the comments, of course.

(As an aside, I am on more prometrium than I have ever been on in my life and, lord, my boobs. Whew. Note we are just ignoring this ttw.)

queer revolution, travel and other weekend goodies

Let's get the business out of the way first - I think my insems were too early. Although I did have ovulation twinges this afternoon, so who the hell knows. Oh, well. While this was Teh Last of Teh Last, it was also the Throw Away Insem, the one that probably wouldn't work. But whatever, I'll take my prometrium like a good girl and we'll see what happens.

Last night, I went out. Woo! Out! The Athens Boys Choir and Katastrophe were playing a free (free!) show just down the road from me and as I love, love, love Katz, I was all over it. It seems they did a Trans 101 workshop (also free!) that afternoon. Yay. I missed it, but yay. Both these kids are cute as buttons and said all the right things and had a gaggle, yes, a gaggle, of little femme girls right up in front of the stage squealing over them (it was kind of like Elvis only these bois are cuter). By said all the right things, I mean that their songs and poems spoke true and clear and funny and sad and all the things you might feel in your life. Katz spoke briefly about the horrifying statistics on hate-crimes against queers in general and trans folks in particular and again, he said all the right things. That is, he didn't say much, he simply named some of the people, some of the kids, who've been killed recently and told us, instructed us, to remember them, to say their names. He had a poem about them, "Queer Revolution," a litany of sorts, with slides - pictures and names, lest we forget. There's not space enough for me to list all the names, nor, sadly, do I even know them all, but you can go here to remember, to have names to speak so that we will not forget them. And then, on a lighter note, he finished up with my all time fave, "Tranny Got Pack." Well, maybe my fave is the Waffle House one..... sooooo hard to decide. (That's a music link, so watch your volume if you're at work or worried about loudness.)

So Katz was great and he's really what drew me to the show, but the bonus prize was Rocco (he introduced himself to me when I bought a CD from him - sqeee! (Lord.)). So um, yeah, I spent the whole show thinking how familiar he looked and how I knew the name Katastrophe from *somewhere*..... and then after I got home and read the liner notes with the CD (10 pages!) I remembered. Michelle Tea's partner. Yeah. I am behind the times. Anyway, he was great. So great that my friend D, who's a nice gayboy, said, as he climbed up next to me on one of the pillars for a better view, "oh my god! I have the hots for a tranny!" We speculated that he'd have to fight off the gaggle of femme girls to get to his new crush. In honor of the show, D wore his Lesbian Clothes - a tie and a zip-up hoodie. Adorable. He looked just like a lesbian. Good job, D.

Nothing like some hot trans men talking about social justice and peace and feminism to make you remember what it's all about. MySpace links here and here. And, yes, I have a little celebrity crush. *sigh* But honest, y'all, they're so good.

Also, I got a new, big girl couch this weekend, thanks to the KP. This meant, among other things, that my roommate and I had to quite literally break the frame of the futon I had been using as a couch so we could get it up stairs so she could use it as a bed. In retrospect, this is funny. Moving furniture sucks. But woo! Big girl couch!

In other news, I booked tickets to go to New York for a smidge during spring break. I was ambivalent about going - I want to see my friends up there really bad, but it's sort of expensive, I'm not sure how to deal with cat care now that one of the cats is deaf and another still has some - ah - bowel issues, and the usual - I kind of love to be at home more than anything. But then I was looking for some old emails I'd written about school and I came across one I'd sent to Z the Ex from back in 2004 when I must have been up there for some Montessori related thing and then I totally wanted to go.

Yesterday I saw a magician. I was on the train, going from Ian's back to
Williamsburg, and I was tired and feeling weird (what's new) and I'd finished
my book so there was nothing to do but sit there. As we were whizzing along under
the river, a magician came clanging in from the next car. He had a little
folding metal stand with big loud metal bells on it and a black case that he
pushed in front of him and a nice black top hat. He was mumbling loudly in
Spanish and so, in spite of my heritage, I understood nothing. He set up shop
right in the middle of the train, swinging the black case up onto the metal
stand and arranging all sorts of implements on it. He tried to get this one guy
to hold his magic wand for him, it was pink lucite, I think, but he refused.
Then all the other people he tried shook their heads, too. It was so sad. But
then this guy sitting across from me agreed to hold the magic wand and tap on
the special magic box and so the show could begin. I got to open the magic drawer
in the special magic box and a small furry animal popped out and I jumped. Then
he did all sorts of other tricks, like making soap bubbles turn into giant
marbles and then popping the marbles or making a girl's purple lacy panties drop
to the floor and then trying to give them to the guy across from me. In
addition to finding the small furry animal (maybe it was a mink?), I got to
hold the magic wand and tap on a small metal dish that was upside-down and then a
dove flew out from under it. Amazing. And then he was done. He collected
some money and packed up his case and rattled on to the next car, all in the space
of 2 stops, before we got to Graham Ave.
I walked home and stopped by the liquor store, feeling much better.

You know you wanted to relive that 10 minutes on the L train with me. So I'll be in New York for a smidge in April. Who's around?

clap your hands

CD 13. High says old Clear Blue. 17.5 mm follicle on the right. Good looking CM. Ovulation Chinese herbs and robitussin taken. Sperm in the air, on it's way to Richmond from the West and then to Starr Hill, arriving tomorrow. Plus Fertility Hennaz™, of course.

Last chance DIY insem, here I come.

some clarifications

I fear I have mislead you. I am not myself an Arm Wrestler. I am a Rule Keeper. That is, I watch to be sure no rules are broken under the table. My post is up now, over here, after some technical difficulties.

Also, I am not quite so nice as y'all think - my neighbor's Condition means many things to me - both positive and negative. We're tight, so it is generally positive, especially because they will at some point need infant-style childcare. Which, providing I knock myself up sooner rather than later, fits well into my financial plan, because I'd be the infant-style childcare. So the almost happy is actually pretty self-serving.

And, since I know you've missed hearing about my ovaries: I went to the RE's today. It's CD 10 and I've got one 10-11 mm follicle on the right and a nice 5 mm lining. "Good," according to my RE, who it turns out, developed a way to check estrogen levels in blood back in the 70's. Prior to this? Yes, my IVP friends, doctors did just what we've all done at home - looked obsessively at CM. Serious.

le sigh

My neighbor is knocked up. By accident. I am mostly happy for her.

(This is not yet news for public consumption, oh, ye local kids who know who I am talking about. She's only 8 weeks.)

just another morning in spring

So it's been weeks since I worked a full 5 days in a row. Weeks, I tell you. There's no school today and it smelled like spring when I opened the front door to let the cats in. I've given up on cutting out coffee and so I am here in the sun with a totally indulgent cup of 2/3 coffee, 1/3 heavy cream. And did I mention the sun? And the lack of school today?

I woke up and walked down here to pick up my milk first thing, because I have been slack this week and didn't pick up on Wednesday, which is my usual pick up day. The whole milk deal is a little shady, which I kind of love. You cannot buy or sell unpasteurized milk in Virginia, so people get around it by purchasing a share in a cow, so the milk is technically theirs and they consume it at their own risk. I do sometimes wonder what part of my cow I own - the tail? The cute nose? Anyway, I'm not one of those Raw Milk Will Save the World people, but I'm pretty happy to have local milk and I'm always after food that's had less shit done to it. And it is good - the real test for what to buy and eat in my mind. Local and organic and unprocessed are fab and all, but really, I'm into food that tastes good. Which this milk does. The poorly lit warehouse and the old soda refrigerators and the sneaky hidden key are all pure entertainment for me - the real deal is that I like this milk better. Now if only I could ride my bike down to the IX to get it....

Yes, it's true. I do not know how to ride a bike. I thought this wasn't news here on teh internets, but the injector has only recently discovered my lack of biking prowess and is threatening to come come south and remedy the problem. Others have tried - valiantly - before, but with no luck. (somewhat embarassing pics here)I'm not so good at the whole practicing thing, you see, and I think that's probably key. Anyway - I do want to know how. It fits in well with everything else about my "Lifestyle." But falling is so scary!

Moving on to other things I cannot do yet - let's talk about ttc, shall we? (That' trying to conceive for those of you just joining us here in Starr Hill.) Here's the lowdown from the RE's visit this week: I will be doing an unmedicated, monitored, home insemed cycle this month. Woo and hoo for the home insems! Go DIY AI go! There's several things going on here so I'll try to be all linear and shit so you can get the full picture and the you can weigh in as you see fit.

From the information gathered during my monitored cycle in January, the RE thinks that I had 2 problems: old Polly and low progesterone. Now we'll all bow our heads a minute to Polly and then move on because that particular problem is gone. Woo! So then the issue becomes the prog. Now, I knew from blood-work with my nurse practitioner that my progesterone was low back last summer and she put me on prometrium (by mouth - whew) for it, but her protocol for the dosage was very different from my RE's protocol and I don't wonder (or rather I do wonder) if hers was not so hot. See, the half-life of prometrium is 12 hours and my NP only had me take it once a day, so I'd imagine the level could float around more than would be ideal. The RE has folks take it 3 times a day, which know knowing the half-life of it (thank you Obsessors) makes far more sense.

Anyway. My RE deals with low prog in one of 2 ways: dose with prometrium or take...... clomid. His thought process is this: The corpus luteum is what produces progesterone after ovulation, so if there is a problem with progesterone, perhaps tweaking the follicle that will become the corpus luteum will make for better progesterone production. Plus the "bonus" of more follicles - i.e. more "targets" for the sperm to hit. He very, very slowly and seriously did the math for me on how the chance of multiples goes up in this scenario and listened patiently when I said in no uncertain terms that I was scared shitless of the mood swings I hear can come with clomid and said femara was a fine choice when I asked about using that instead. The man's a dream. And he delicately pointed out that, in his view, time is not an issue. I'm young and healthy, as they kept telling me before my surgery. All that said, I am going with no meds for this cycle other than a prometrium supplement. Because I like to ramp it up slowly.

As for the home insem part - well, there's some bureaucracy involved here. In the past, sperm that needs washing for an IUI would get sent to Richmond, washed and sent back. But my sperm don't roll like that because they've been Bio-Tranzed. The shipping method my donors (Remember them? You can't beat them with a stick.) and I are using, bio-tranz, only keeps those kids alive for 24 hours. Not enough time to get from the West Coast to Richmond and then here. They'd be dead. Now, the University has been promising my RE a machine for washing sperm here for sometime now. They said October 2007 at the latest, he told me. Then we both looked at the calendar and sighed. Any day now, they keep telling him. He sighed again. So if there's a machine here, I'll wash those prostaglandins right out of my sperm and do an IUI. But I'm not going to count on that, so we'll just all plan on one very last home insem. What do you say?

There's a mess of us cycling together this time, which has to be worth something. There's me, the injector's best girl KK, Mrs. B, Chips, Tiff, Katie who has no blog (ahem) from FF.... damn. I though there were more of us. Anybody else? Anybody?

surgery post - finally

What? Y'all haven't been on the edge of your collective seats - eagerly awaiting the story of my surgery? Well, what have you been doing then?

Before you get all excited, let's keep in mind that this really all turned out to be no big deal. I was far more apprehensive about the HSG, which, you'll remember, all turned out fine. I was sort of generally apprehensive about general anthesisia, which was a whole new ball o' wax for me (Let's revisit here that the most invasive medical procedure I've ever had, prior to ttc, was getting a tooth filled without anethesisa. By my uncle who told bad jokes and played Aretha Franklin the whole time.) but I was pretty chill about the whole thing and, frankly, looking forward to a day off work. So all that is to say, don't be mad if this story lacks some particular something.... like a plot.


Anyway. Cho-girl and I arrived bright and early and I filled out a mess of paper work (all of which I had already filled out at the pre-op the week before) while she reviewed her firm instructions to call 1. my mother 2. work 3. the other building of work to tell them how it all went down. (N.B. - these instructions were not from me.) I ended up sitting on the floor, because some folks took my seat while I was up passing back my ever-tedious paperwork. But that's ok - I like the floor. So we hung out, talking about nothing and then an unseen some one called my name. It was not god (there's not near death experiences in this story, so if you're looking for that you'd better quit right now). It was a nurse, calling from a *whole other waiting room*! Crazy. There was a section with more chairs - enough for me! - and the receptionist had been to busy with the aforementioned ever-tedious paperwork to tell us. Or she was too moody.


So the nice nurse took me back and cho-girl moved into the other, new waiting room, because it had magazines (although I had stocked her with books, don't you worry). The nice nurse (let's take moment here to recognize that I should have done something to make me remember everyone's names - they were all so great and I cannot even give them proper credit here) put in an IV (new experience # 33 million) and gave me a very nice green cap and asked me what drugs I am allergic to. Then she left me alone to change into my nice gown and little brown socks (new experience # 34 million). About 50-thousand other people came back to ask me what drugs I am allergic to after my original nice nurse. This seems to be the ambulatory surgery version of asking what my birthday is, which is the pick-up line at the RE's office. In the midst of these 56-thousand people was the anesthesiologist resident, who looked 12. I swear. 12. So she did her little anesthesia pep-talk and then more people asked me what I was allergic to and my doctor came back and was peppy, too, and we were all filled with pep, except I was also really hungry and pretty thirsty, so I think the 58-million folks were slightly peppier than me, because they had eaten nice breakfasts and probably had Teh Coffeez.

Then they brought cho-girl back and we sat there for a smidge and then they had me walk to the OR. Because I am "young and healthy," as they kept telling me. I asked if I'd get a ride if I were old and infirm. They said no. It was called ambulatory surgery for a reason. They were funny. And by they, I mean all the 63-million folks who came in and did shit to me. And by funny, I mean so nice. Really, if I could remember their names, I would make a whole post for them: a list of their names with the title "So Nice" so that when they google themselves they would get to see it and feel good. Oh, right, but where was I? Oh, yes, being young and healthy and perambulating back to the OR. Which was freezing. Which I commented on and so they gave me not just one but two warm blankets. I tell you, I could get used to this warm blanket thing. It was very, very white, in addition to very cold, and the people buzzed around sort of quietly doing their thing and the 12 year-old anesthesiologist talked to me very, very quietly as she hooked me up to all the monitors, explaining what each sensor did. I *love* that shit. And then I looked at the clock across the room and up at the lights while she told me to think of some "nice dreams" to have and then I woke up in another room.

Ok, so here's the one sort of bad part. I felt like crap right when I woke up. Really crap. Confused and then nauseous and crampy. And I kind of wanted to cry, which, you'll remember is not something I'm a big fan of. All alone, my tiny self in a hospital gown..... Crying yet? Well, quit, because yet another very nice nurse put her hand on my arm and asked how I was and shot me up with pain meds and anti-nausea meds and after another minute or two of misery, I was ok. Ok enough to be excited that they were going to wheel me into the other recovery room; apparently post surgery, I am no longer "young and healthy" enough to walk. Heh. So the nice nurse number two wheeled me to a curtained off lazy-boy recliner (hospital style, you know) and went to fetch cho-girl. And I was fine. The nice nurse (#2) gave me some ginger ale and animal cookies and let me manipulate her into taking me out to the car in a wheel chair (new experience #39 million!) and cho-girl took me home.

To the couch, where I lay in repose for the rest of the day. Ahhhhh.... it was like a sick day only I felt fine. We had coffee and expensive sandwiches and my mama came over and then I napped off and on. An old friend came by mid-afternoon to bring me some arnica and fancy ginger beer and the the ever-vigilant LB came by in the evening after work, so I was well tended. And so fine. I mean, really - I was tired after about 6 o'clock, but really I felt so ok.

So, to summarize: nice folks, no more Polly (R.I.P.), day off of work. Western Medicine - 1, me - 1. We're all winners here in Starr Hill.

There are no pictures up yet, because I am not the proud owner of a scanner. But when they are ready, oh internets, you'll be the first to know. I swear.

mea culpa

Forgive me. It has been a million years since my last blog post.

But I have excuses! I had surgery! (I tried to use this excuse at work to get out of a parent meeting last week. No dice.) Yes, the sugery is over and done and old Polly is gone - peace, Polly. And really? No big deal. So not an excuse for not blogging.

The real excuse for not blogging is that I have been at a weekend long Labor Assistant Training. It was great, but I had no time to blog. I haven't even read blogs or visited the IVP since Friday. Ack! But have I mentioned it was great? It was. Great for its own sake (very informative, not overly touchy-feely - which I feared, well run, inspiring) and also great because it reminded me that all this fertility shit isn't just about getting pregnant, it's also about giving birth and having that experience is part of why I am going on with all this crap. Anyway, this training is very, very good and if you get a chance to take it you should jump on it.

I promise a surgery post shortly. Promise.

Also? CD 1, y'all. I've got a meeting with the RE Tuesday. Let's get this party started.

many are the motherfucking obstacles in my path

No ttc this cycle (CD 11 today), nor likely any next cycle (CD 0 today). Bummer.

After last week's fab HSG, I put in a call to my RE and had the usual lovely chat with Martha, the keeper of all knowledge. Her offical title is something like receptionist or appointment maker, or something. But this woman holds me, and I'd bet many others, in the palm of her sweet, southern-accented hand. She is the gate keeper to the kingdom of fertility. Which is to say, she sets up your shit with the RE. Which is to say she has your charts at her fingertips and she'll whip them out, saying all the while, "now, just hang on...." She's sweet and knows my name and we will never see each other. She is in a totally different building than the RE and to me she is now and always will be a voice on the phone.

Anyway, I called Martha The Gate Keeper Friday and she said to call back Monday once the results from the dye-job had been sent over and so I called Monday and for some reason I cannot remember nothing happened and so she called me back Tuesday and we tried to figure if my next appointment with the RE was "time sensitive." To me it is, of course, but not really to my RE. He's big into not hurrying, gathering as much data as possible and then, finally, moving forward. So anyway, the upshot of it all is that he thinks I should go ahead and have old Polly the Polyp taken out and one of the nice, nice, nice doctors from Friday's HSG party is his friend and has been given the heads up about me and my fabulousness and so he is all set to go after old Polly with whatever one uses to remove such things. So after a trip through the university hospital's phone system - a trip riddled with blind allies and dead ends - I got a phone a call back from Dr. S's receptionist/gate keeper and she set me up an appointment for next Thursday. Woo! Right? Sort of. Thursday's appointment is for a pre-op meeting. Mostly paper signing, according to the receptionist/gate keeper. From there we'll set up the real-deal get that fucker out of there appointment. Lord. Which will be well into the next cycle, so no insems.

I'm struggling to keep up with all the good-for-me ttc shit - the temping and the pre-natals and the positive attitude. This feels like a break, damn it, but I had not planned on a break now. I had not planned on any more breaks at all in fact. This was the hell-bent-for-leather, throw-caution-to-the-wind phase of ttc that was going to end with a baby. But now I seem to be on a break. Back to the tattoo parlor and liquor cabinet with me.

friday for the win!

From the beginning, because you know I love a list:

* all clear HSG. Spill on both sides, warmed gown from the nicest nurse in the world, totally cheerful and nice and again with the nice folks in Radiology, comforting but totally unnecessary hand holding from cho-girl, pretty pictures of my insides, polyp confirmation (whew - known is better than unknown, yes?) and also did I mention how nice? Those folks in Radiology - Teh Best. There were a million of them and they all introduced themselves ("Hi, I'm Dr. So-and-so, you can call me Stphanie" - love her.) and shook hands and explained exactly what they were going to be doing and laughed my my jokes and they didn't hurt me. Not a bit. The most amusing part was that Stephanie, my newest BFF, thought cho-girl was a Radiology tech, because she had on a lovely lead gown. And really, it was a lovely gown - flowered and with a nice embroidered "L" for lovely.

*breakfast at the diner after aforementioned hurt-free and all clear HSG. Out and about 10 am! Woo and Hoo! With bacon! And with a vastly entertaining Other Patron at the table next to us who drove up in his big maroon Cadi, walked in, ordered a whiskey on the rocks, chatted us up, realized he didn't have his wallet, left his drink and drove off to get his wallet and came back only to be joined by his wife. He was charming except he said I talk like a yankee.

*love from the internets.

*tidying to prepare for the arrival by train of Hard Girl and company. Yay! It's illness that brings them, but I'll take it.

*warm and amazing sun and did I mention warm? Warm enough to have the front door open - it's been since October since I've done that.

*walking downtown to the post office (I heart the USPS) with the Hard Girl Fam. So warm and lovely. Plus we got to hang with the post office guy because I was foolish enough to think that sending a package to Ireland would be a simple matter of a stamp. No, no - there's customs, you see. Heh. I was sending off my full pack of Instead Cups to another IVP kid, but the post office guy seemed pretty nonplussed when he asked me what was in the box and I said "feminine supplies." Perhaps he was too taken with Tiny Fruit Baby to be worried about what sort of things the IVP likes to put in it's respective hoohas. Anyway, I think my home insem days are done, and so I gleefully send off my Insteads and welcome the world of western meds with open arms.

*bacon from the neighbors. Yes, that's bacon from the neighbors. Pork belly from Polyface, some magic salt/brown sugar/spice thing plus curing in their shed equals bacon. From the neighbors. Damn. I've got a good half pound of it in the kitchen right now, waiting to be breakfast for the guests.

*errand running in the car. Not normally something I do, but there was the need for cat food, else I'd loose a limb. Plus, as the whole Hard Girl Extendo Fam is here, there is a grandma who needs a nightgown. So I went for cat food and debated Rose's vs. Kmart for the nightgown for about 1 minute before picking Rose's, which took me over the (small) mountain to the east of town, giving me the view to end all views - looking west to the other (larger) mountains as the sun set behind them. Holy fucking shit, y'all.

* CD release party not too far from home tonight. Out of the house is sometimes good for me

.

There were daffodils just blooming outside the hospital this morning and crocus by Main street. Two more weeks of February, kids. I think we'll make it.

mostly ttc shit

So I go tomorrow for the long awaited HSG, aka dye job, to illuminate my insides and confirm or deny Polyp the Possible. My transport and hand-holding will be courtesy of cho-girl, who will be treated to coffee after. I'm getting sort of psyched about seeing what my insides look like - the u/s doesn't really cut it for me. How do they read that shit? It looks like a bunch of gray dots to me; the only thing I saw that looked like anything at my last u/s was my fab 17 mm follicle. Everything else the RE pointed out I was all, "uh huh, uh huh, how about that? Huh. Sure. Looks good to me." So seeing my tubes and such will be fun. I'm less apprehensive than I was a few days ago (thanks for the comments, y'all - really, they were very reassuring and I've got my 800 mg of ibuprofen and my whiskey at the ready), and it will be nice to be doing *something*. As Jen pointed out, it sucks to be a regular at the RE's and not actively trying to make a baby. So doing something more than getting a cheap lube saturated wang cam scan and sending vats of my blood to the lab sounds good to me. Even if it does, you know, involve dye up my hooha.

In other news, the first ever CLAW bout was on Tuesday and was great. You know you're sorry you missed it. For your amusement, look here and here and here. And then come on down next month.

So me and cho-girl and Polyp the Possible will be down at the hospital tomorrow am, if you want to wave in our general direction. CD 6. Let's get this party started.

With all due respect, photo courtesy of Billy Hunt.

F your I

It is not cool - read very, very impolite - to ask certain questions, no matter how well intentioned. Among them: When will you get married? Are you dating anyone? Are you planning on having a baby? How was your colonoscopy? Guess which one I've been asked twice in less than a week? Once on the playground at school, with parrot-like 3 and 4 year olds around, not to mention highly attentive 5 year olds. *sigh*

(Which doesn't even begin to address the whole issue of professionalism - would you ask your doctor/lawyer/accountant a personal question while said professional was at his or her place of employ practicing his or her profession?)