A Bang on the Ear

Thank you, girls, for the comments but unfortunately your great advice is all for naught. There is no way on G*d's green earth that I am stimming before 9th August. No way, no how. There is no fighting the schedule or the IVF co-ordinator. That road finds you locked in a supply closet, gagged with the obligatory exam table towel, when you should be in theatre for retrieval!

I did speak to my consultant who is very well-respected in the UK IVF field and I trust her. My lack of follicles is not necessarily anything to do with the length of down-regging but more to do with the diabetes and the PCOS. In fact, the longer I am on the Synarel, the better my hormones become. I know that myself. I do know that I lose weight on the Synarel much, much easier than I do any other time. Silver lining, anyone?

We shall see, won't we?

This week, thank jeebus I have had tons of work to distract me. I do not know how people do this who do not work. What else do you do all day, other than fret about your ovaries?

Of course, if Mr P has the winning ticket for the Euromillions lottery tonight (£77 million or $150 million!!!), I will not be worrying about anything. I could buy my own IVF clinic hahaha!

Day 22 of Synarel - 10 days to go! Do not expect any scintillating posting between now and then cos I ain't in the mood.

Snakes and Ladders

After my weekend trip, I was feeling much more like myself and tripped my way through the week, still fighting the hormones but on the whole, feeling not too shabby. I had decided to take a couple of days off work at the end of the week as Monday is a public holiday. I was on a high as my BP has been pretty steady around the 120/70 mark, blood sugars well controlled and I have lost a further 3 kgs since the last go. I was feeling pretty chipper all round. Lots of relaxing going on, gardening and lazing in the sun as despite this being Scotland, the daytime temps have resolutely refused to go below 70 degrees (so it is officially a heatwave!).


On Friday, I thought "Hmmm. Funny. It is my 15th day on Synarel but still no letter from the clinic about when to go for baseline scan??" I thought that I would e-mail the co-ordinator but no panic about the radio silence as I had to down-reg for 22 days last cycle. I figured that it was probably going to be the 29th July.


Well, I soon had that shit kicked out of me pronto. Five minutes after my enquiring e-mail comes the reply - 9th August at 9.30am. In other words, carry on sniffing until 32 days have passed and my ovaries will be so shrivelled and blackened that they will need dynamite to get them going. Never mind that they only retrieved 4 eggs last time. So what - it is not like it is going to work any better. Just humour her.

If that co-ordinator had been standing before me, I would have ripped her limb from limb then set her on fire. Mr P's computer was lucky to have survived unscathed as I hammered back an anguished "But, but, but...WHHHYYYY!!" The reply was short and sweet and brooked no argument - "scheduling". In other words, all the fucking bitches that have regular 28 day cycles and have to start injections on Day 3 have to be scheduled in first and only then can us scrofulous, irregular, underclass of broken cows be squeezed in, like charity cases.

So much for relaxing thoughts.

WTF????? Obviously my relaxing and feeling better with very little crying or sobbing going on had been brought to the attention of the IVF thought police. "Lets show her what we think of that kind of upstart malarkey. She will be thinking she will get pregnant soon. Hahahaha".

WHAM! Take that. Get back to your sobbing and stop trying to rise above your infertile station.

Comme ci, comme caca

Thank you all again for all your kind words. They really do help!

Well, the weekend away in Glasgow was the best antidote for all my ills. I started off on Saturday morning with a pedicure as my little piggies had been neglected of late. Lovely, lovely relaxation and pearly pink tootsies to boot!

A 3 hour lunch with our good friends R & M in Rogano's Oyster Bar, followed by a little light shopping was just the ticket. I hoovered up a goats cheese starter, salmon fillets in broth and summer pudding with creme anglais followed by coffee with tablet and rum truffles. Yum-yum. Good food and good company. It should be available on the NHS!

Of course, a little wine was sprinkled here and there throughout the day and R&M also had the open mini-bar in their hotel room. More relaxation!

One slight cloud on the horizon was when I attempted to sniff my Saturday evening toot of Synarel. First nostril fine and dandy. Second nostril attempted but only air was emitted from the suddenly empty bottle! Aaack, this meant that I would not be home until Sunday evening and would miss the Sunday morning toot. The damn bottle had leaked in my bag.

I decided that I was not going to ruin my weekend by screaming and crying hysterically nor were we going to jump in the car and drive 2 and a half hours home to retrieve a new bottle. So I missed a dose and a half. So what? You can remind me of this in a few weeks when IVF#2 goes pear-shaped.

Following that, I was ready for an evening of pyrotechnics, ear-splitting German rock and thousands of nu-Goths. Aah, the memories of when I used to be a real Goth in the 80s. Now I just look like a nu-Goth's middle-aged auntie haha! We retired to our hotel with our ears ringing but happy.

Sunday was, as promised, a pilgrimage to the Swedish mecca of Ikea where I worshipped at the altar of pillows and towels. Much retail therapy ensued and we arrived home just in time to deliver a double dose of Synarel in the evening.

Not a tear was shed all weekend - just the result I (and Mr P) were looking for!

I heart you all

You know, I posted on Barren Mare's blog that I was not really feeling that bad this time round then I came to blog and it all came gushing out - all the bad, whiny feelings that make me feel like the world's biggest loser. I guess that blogging is all about that.

I am frightening myself at the moment the way my moods are changing from manic to super-low and back again. I don't know who is driving at the moment.

I heart you all very much for your support, but particularly Suz and Bugs. You took the time out to help me when you are both in your own not-so-private hells. Ladies, I salute you!

Mr P is taking me away for a weekend of good food, a few pitchers of my favourite cocktail of wine and Synarel and a deafening concert by German rockers R*mmstein. I am not sure which bit I will like best. Actually, the best will be the trip to Ikea for new pillows.

It is all about the madeleines

****WARNING****SELF-PITY ALERT AHEAD****DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE IN A HAPPY MOOD*****

It is day 7 of sniffing the Synarel and I am feeling black, black moods coming on. Everybody talks about the ambivalence and the whatever feeling once you are enduring the 2nd uphill IVF try but I find it so hard to avoid comparisons with other bloggers.

Suz and Bugs have had fantastic retrievals the second go-round after the pain and despair of being labelled poor-responders first time round. I am so pleased and thrilled that things have gone so much better for them this time round but it doesn't comfort me. This just makes me feel worse about what will happen to my 2nd go. I know rationally there is nothing I can do, other than de-stress and follow doctor's orders but I know deep, deep down, I have never lead a charmed life. Nothing ever comes easy.

I am craving comfort and the things which comfort me now are the same things from childhood that could be relied on to ease the pain. The otherworlds of books and music, Heinz tomato soup, clean and crisp cotton sheets, the sound of rain outside, starlings swooping in their mesmerising choreography, growing things, being in the garden.

I am trying very hard to stay positive but I am not winning this week.

A Day in the Life

In amongst the shock and grief and worry of Thursday, my period started, just as predicted.

Thankfully, none of my friends or family were caught up in the horror in London. It is only a month since I was there, passing though Liverpool St twice a day to get on the Metropolitan Line or the Circle Line, sitting stuck in a tunnel thinking about the unthinkable. I flew out of Newark 6 hours before the Towers fell. 2 days before that, I was on top of the WTC viewing platform looking down and thinking "1/2 mile drop". It did not stop me getting back on a plane and flying back to visit NYC. This won't stop me visiting London, that grande dame with the bedraggled drawers.

We have survived fires and bombs and other tragedies before and this one will pass too. Unlike NYC, this country has long lived with terrorism and although there has been a lull in the last while, it takes a lot to make us flap. Thursday proved that and then so did Friday. People went back to work, back on the buses, back down into the Tube - in short, two fingers to whoever thinks that we are afraid.

Ay caramba!

What a day! I am sitting here in front of the puter, with a bowl of picota cherries, eating them like a Clampett ie. chewing them up and spitting out the stones into the bowl. They would be even better in a pie but I have already had a biccie binge this week. Aah, another IVF approaching so time to throw in some self-sabotage. What's that you say? This would be the best time to exercise iron control over my blood sugar level? Hmmm.

12dpo today. I would love to say that Fertility Fiend was wrong but the nipples of fire, spots and biccie binge combined with soaring temps confirmed that yes, I did spit out one geriatric egg from an ancient ovary on CD43. Yay ovary!! You go, crone! Of course, I can now feel the darkness gathering down below and I predict tomorrow morning will bring the cramps and the blood. Oh well, let the Games begin. Sniffing Synarel commences on CD2.

Talking of Games, London and the rest of the country will be hosting the Olympics in 2012. I find this really exciting and I am not really sure why? Maybe the sight of all those people jubilantly jumping up and down in East London got me all fired up. The last time the Olympics happened here was in 1948 and the UK just stepped in at the last moment to help out so there was not much prep time (still wartime rationing, no bananas, public transport or material for knickers). They have 7 years to get ready this time so Amy, lots of time to pack for the twins!!

Maybe the good news of that highlighted the current mayhem which is going on here in Scotland. I know I recently posted about G8 and protesting but it is all about the peaceful protest, people. Smashing up innocent working peoples' cars in Bannockburn and following injured policemen to hospital to disrupt and interfere with the treatment for their injuries is just not on. Focus on the goals here - climate change, Africa, global poverty. Unfortunately, the element attracted to this kind of protest, combined with every numpty and ned in Central Scotland who fancies a bit of a rammy just for fun, just hijacks the message and makes it easier for the G8 members to dismiss all protests as anti-capitalist nutjobs. I

I may be many things (usually all in the space of 24 hours) but I am not one of them.

People have the power

Edinburgh 2nd July 2005

I had the choice of watching the lamest set of pop acts known to man on Live8 on the teevee, watching the Ladies Final at Wimbledon on the teevee or joining around 225,000 people dressed in white, walking for hours in a circular route around Edinburgh to Make Poverty History.

I voted with my feet.

I did it for the Miners Strike, the Poll Tax and both Iraq wars and it only seemed fitting that I add my voice to Saturday's protest. It was an honour and a privilege to be able to do so. If the G8 leaders had their way, no-one would be allowed to make any protest.

On Wednesday, the leaders of the G8 arrive in Gleneagles, about 50 miles from here. I reckon it is just a golfing holiday and all this talk about world finances and economic infrastructures is just a smokescreen for a deluxe break. Why else is it always some ultra-expensive resort like Sea Island last year? Why else do the wives come? They are being ferried round the country to Glamis Castle and Harvey Nichols and lunch with the Stagecoach wifie at her castle. So much for making poverty history. Those spoilt, pampered women must think we all live in castles!

Perth and Kinross Council have magnanimously decided that protesters can assemble 500 metres from Gleneagles Hotel and exercise their democratic right to protest. What a shame that I will be working to pay my taxes which pay for the policemen who will be on duty and the millions for security and Tony Blair's shiny new suit. In my heart and mind, I am there with a loudhailer. What a shame these leaders never really come face to face with real people.