cindy's world

Tomorrow is the last day, day 10, of my first series of shots (Lupron). I’ve been doing all of them myself and it’s been going pretty efficiently. I haven’t passed out completely, yet. Tomorrow morning before work, I have an appointment with the fertility doctor for a blood test, another ultrasound to just check things out, and they’d be telling me the next step of medication. I’m not sure what shot comes next. Lupron is the hormone that tells my body, “stop the ovulation process.” So I assume the next series of meds would be the “okay, now ripen all the eggs” shots. I haven’t felt anything different either mood-wise or physically with Lupron, but with the next shots I’d probably feel some bloating and discomfort, since I can feel twinges in my left ovary when I ovulate ONE egg from that side. Now I’ll have lots of eggs ripen and swell in both ovaries simultaneously. I don’t know where the next series of shots would go, either. If they’re intramuscular, then they’d have to be injected with slightly thicker and three-times-longer needles. That sounds scary, but given that the subcutaneous needles are half an inch, we’re only looking at inch-and-a-half needles. But still, the thought that intramuscular needles need to go in my butt muscles…*shudder*. Mr. W would have to administer those for me.
A couple of days ago on TV, I watched a reality show that followed a young heroin addict for an episode. In one scene, she had a bunch of needles around her and I immediately recognized them as the same ones I’d been using. But she INJECTED it straight into the side of her NECK into her carotid artery while looking in a mirror! Slowly! *vomit* *faint* Meanwhile her drug-buddy-slash-bang-partner watched her and said admiringly, “Damn…you are BAD-ASS!” *gag* But it did make me feel like a wimp.
And then last night on House, the female hospital administrator called Dr. House into her office and told him that as a part of the in vitro procedure, she had to inject something (I missed what the drug was because I had the sound down super-low so that I wouldn’t wake hubby up where he slept at 8:30pm) and she can’t do it herself, so she asked him for help. She then leaned over her desk, hiked up her skirt slightly, and revealed a portion of her butt. When House injected, she said, “Ouch!” I was SO DISHEARTENED because if a DOCTOR says “ouch,” then it must really hurt, right? Waaah! I relayed this scene to Mr. W this morning and he said, “They’re ACTORS. Not doctors. She said ‘ouch’ because she thought a character would say ‘ouch’ if she got an injection, not because a doctor would think it’s painful.” OH YEAH! Duh! That’s what husbands are for.

After work today, we have our tax appointment. Mr. W and I are a little nervous, because we really don’t want to pay taxes. I’m low on funds because of the fertility expenses, and we have property taxes coming up (for three pieces of property), and car insurance for the year (for three cars, as Mr. W pays for his son’s car). I don’t expect a windfall like last year, which could have bought us a new modest car and which paid for our French Polynesia luxury cruise and our property taxes, but I’m hopeful we’ll still get enough back to help out just a bit. *crossing fingers*

I had my appointment at the fertility doctor’s to start my shots this morning. I thought I’d receive a little box of shipped syringes and random meds, but instead, the nurse brought in two sizeable giftbag-sized paper bags packed with stuff. They’re also keeping some syringe cartridges in their fridge for me at the clinic because I won’t need that particular medication yet. I guess I now know what $1926.45 of medication at a specialty pharmacy buys me. I have spare syringes galore, alcohol swipes, a plastic syringe disposal box, estrogen patches, containers of pills, multiple types of injectible fluids. (They also surprised me with an ultrasound when I got in; they counted 4 follicles [eggs] in one ovary and 7 in the other…where did the other 5 go that they had counted at the beginning of the cycle?)

In the nurse’s office, she told me about the first round of meds: one injection of Lupron each morning for 10 days. The syringe is TINY. The needle is thin (altho not as hair-thin as in my ideal fantasy scenario, albeit if I were fantasizing, I’d just be magically pregnant FOR FREE without having to go thru any of this) and only a half-inch long. The nurse went through a scenario of how to set up the shot, draw a small dose of medication up to the “10” line in the syringe, get rid of any air bubbles, how to pinch the fatty part of my lower abdomen (I have plenty to pinch), clean a selected area an inch away from my belly button with an alcohol pad, and how to inject and remove the syringe afterwards. The process was simple enough. She had me practice drawing with a demonstrative syringe and a little medication bottle of water. I asked if I could do my first injection there, as I wanted to be in a doctor’s office in case I have questions or screw up my first time. She said sure, and I had a little dance with a stubborn air bubble in the syringe on my draw, but she said it’s okay because the shot is going subcutaneously so air isn’t a big deal as long as it doesn’t keep me from getting the right dosage of meds. I swabbed my abdomen fat, pinched the area, placed the needle where I wanted it, she said the spot was fine, and then saying, “Ew,” with my hands shaking, I went straight in, semi-gently. Actually I don’t know how fast I did it cuz I have no memory of watching it go in. I think I looked away and just pushed the needle. In total shock, I said, “I didn’t feel anything! I have, like, no nerve cells there!” I pushed the plunger, removed the needle (THAT all felt surreal), looked at the spot the needle came out of, and there was not a THING that gave away what I had just done. No mark, no fluid, no sensation. WOW. “It hurts more when I pull an eyebrow hair!” I said incredulously. I am SO RELIEVED. I can do this every morning, sure, no problem! I’m still wiggy about the intramuscular shots, though, but she won’t tell me about those yet to not overwhelm me. That’ll come later.

The fertility clinic had me go in this morning before work for an ultrasound (to count the number of eggs I have in each ovary for this cycle that they’ll be using) and to start the paperwork for the process. I also had to turn in my surgery paperwork and photos from yesterday. The same female fertility doctor who found the polyps did this morning’s ultrasound.
“They didn’t find polyps? They’re gone? What happened?!” she greeted me as she came into the ultrasound room.
“Yeah, the doctor said I’m clean as a whistle. But she did look at your ultrasound pictures and confirmed there were polyps.”
This doctor suggested what yesterday’s doctor said: the polyps must have come out on their own between their discovery and their removal procedure, possibly with a menstrual flow. This doctor started the ultrasound and said, “Look at this!” She turned the monitor to face me.
“What am I looking at?” I asked, staring at the black and white image of what appeared to be a series of concentric ovals.
She pointed to the center, a black oval within the gray ovals. “You still have some fluid in here so we can see, and it’s totally clean in here. No polyps like we saw last time.” *cheer* She went on to count the follicles in each ovary, found 7 on each side, which she said is “more than adequate.” *more cheers*
“Now, you started on the pills, right?” she asked.
“Yes, I started yesterday.”
“Good, good, good!”
“The timing of this has really been amazing, to catch this cycle in time.”
“I like to think there’s some karma involved in this,” the doctor smiled at me.

Flat Coke & Flies emailed me this morning to congratulate me, and asked if this all feels surreal. No, it doesn’t feel as surreal as much as a “finally!” We’d been working on this for so long, and with the false starts, I feel more than ready for this. I’m sure actually BEING pregnant will feel surreal. For now, the only thing that feels surreal is the fact that I charged $10,000 on the new credit card this morning, maxing it out, and had to charge another $375 on another card, to start the IVF process. The only expenses left after this are a few thousand for the fertility drugs and shots (which I’ll be starting in 2 weeks), a few thousand for Mr. W’s urologist to extract his swimmers, and whatever it costs to freeze and store unused embryos (probably about a few hundred dollars, plus a monthly charge for storage). Given the few thousand I’ve already paid for the tests, consultations, and false starts, we’re well within the $25K expected range.

(a little homage to my favorite modern poet and cartoonist, Bill Watterson, creator of “Calvin & Hobbes”)

I have the day off work today to get those pesky polyps removed from my uterus. The procedure kinda wigs me out, because it’s pretty invasive to go into an organ and snip pieces of it out. (Just my opinion, though.) The bigger bummer to having to do this is the fact that, when I called the fertility doctor for advice on timing the in vitro stuff relative to this procedure, I was told that I should wait a month to heal and given 6 weeks of hormone therapy in preparation for in vitro, we’re looking at April for implantation. The kid just keeps getting more and more delayed.

This past Sunday, Mr. W and I met up with my parents in Seal Beach, and then we visited with our clairvoyant friend Rebecca at her usual coffee shop. My parents remain skeptical despite some amazing stuff Rebecca told my mom that was dead-on (the multiple miscarriages she’d had, mentioned the TWINS she’d lost, I mean, HELLO…among other stuff). Anyway, Rebecca told me, as she’d told me before, “November.” I told her sadly that the doctors are now looking at April for implantation, and she said she may be wrong, but it still feels like November to her. Not that it really matters in the long run anyway. For my wigging out about the procedure today, she told me to visualize myself in a bubble of light, and also from underneath, being held up in God’s hands. She said to also picture the doctor and nurses in bubbles of light, and as they work on me, to visualize their hands being guided and controlled by God’s hands, as they do God’s work on me. She said it’ll be fine, very smooth. I remembered that when I’d first told her I had this procedure scheduled to remove some polyps the fertility doctor found via ultrasound, she was surprised, saying she saw nothing wrong with me, and didn’t see anything preventing this pregnancy from going through just fine. Rebecca told me to practice the visualizations to calm myself down during the procedure, so I practiced it last night laying in bed, and briefly thought about the bubble of light from God being so healing that the polyps just disappear. Wouldn’t that be cool.

So anyway, in the doctor’s office early this morning and later in the operating room, I was laying on my back in a long bubble of light, each of the two nurses and the doctor were walking around my room in their own bubbles of light, and since I was lighting everyone, Mr. W, where he sat in a chair nearby, was reading his iPad in a bubble of light. God cradled me in his great big hands, comforting me. The procedure had points of discomfort and pressure, but was pretty much pain-free, and on the monitor, we watched as the doctor explored every part of me from the cervix to the walls to the fallopian tubes, and found…NOTHING. “There’s nothing here,” she said as the nurses stared behind her in amazement. “The polyps are gone. You’re clean as a whistle. There’s nothing for me to biopsy.” She pulled out to re-examine the cervix, then went back in again, slowly, exploring everything. “Nothing. Totally clean, and very healthy.”
“So is this common?” I asked.
“No, it’s not very common, but does happen. The body can sometimes heal itself, or maybe the polyps just fell out on their own. You also have a long cervix, which is good because sometimes after a LEEP the cervix is shortened which can affect pregnancy, but yours is fine. You should have no problems. This is good news, I’m happy for you! Tell your fertility doctor to go ahead and start.”
!!!
So wait a minute, there was this big delay from them finding the polyps and delaying the process, for nothing?
“No, well, you definitely had polyps,” the doctor pointed out. She said no fertility doctor in good conscience would implant an embryo when there are polyps in there, so this had to be done. No one could’ve known that my polyps were just going to disappear on their own. We all saw ultrasound photos of multiple polyps, clear as day.

Since I had refused drugs (they offered Xanax to help relax me but I’m kinda anti-pharmaceuticals if I can help it, so I just took a few Ibuprofen, and the injected cervical block did the rest), they told me I have no restrictions, just go about my day the way I want. As Mr. W and I exited the room in amazement, he had this great idea. “Maybe you can still use this cycle then, since you’re on day 5 of this cycle. Don’t they start the process on Day 5?”
!!!
I put in a call and left a message for my reproductive doctor’s office, hoping we get a call-back soon. We had lunch at Mother’s, an organic market with an attached vegetarian healthy cafe. I texted some friends with this unexpected miraculous development. Flip Flop Girl wrote, “Wow. Everything is just falling into place. From the bank fraud to this…Good news all around!” That’s when I realized…this polyp discovery had a purpose after all. It delayed the in vitro process just enough for me to get 6 months interest-free funding for the procedure thanks to the bank fraud, and didn’t delay a DAY beyond that. The discovery of a clean bill of health is made on the right day of the cycle, so long as the fertilty doctor called us back!
“The universe loves you,” Flip Flop Girl wrote.
“Or this kid is pulling major strings over there,” I responded.
“If you believe in reincarnation this soul just can’t wait to get to earth, and he’s making it as easy for you as possible. 🙂 ”
“I do believe, and I don’t know what his rush is. Haha”
“He’s got things to do! World-changing technologies to invent. Novels to write. Nobel peace prizes to win.”
“Haha, I should save this text and use it to make him study more.”
“Yeah, no pressure or anything. =P”

The universe had yet another surprise for us. I shared it with Flip Flop Girl.
“Guess what! Both our lunches just got comped! Today must be good news day!”
“What?? Why? Where are you? Buy a lotto ticket!!!”
“HAHAHA! We’re at Mother’s and I had another green drink. [Mr. W] found a paper tag in his tofu piccata. Not that he was concerned.”
The restaurant INSISTED on comping both our meals and our Goddess of Greens fresh juice bar drinks (a blend of apple, celery, cucumber, spinach, parsley and kale).

On the way home, I got the call from the fertility doctor’s office. They can use this cycle and start today! There’s no delay to April needed, and they phoned in the first prescription to my local pharmacy. Hello, November! (Of course I called Rebecca and told her the good news; the timing she saw is back on!)

I know my stepkidlet had said some prayers for me for the procedure. On her way out the door to class this morning, she said, “I hope things go well today. Don’t be scared, the Lord is with you.” How right she was. And those are some powerful bubbles of light. 😀 I’m humbled, amazed, and SO grateful for the magic everywhere. Thank you, Universe! Your wisdom and perfect planning awe me.
I’m gonna go pick up my prescription now and maybe go for a bike ride or a hike with the hubby. Love to all!

It’s no secret that I’d been a little concerned about the upcoming costs of fertility I’d be paying. $25K is nothing to sneeze at. My plan was to have close to enough in the bank account to pay it all, then pay the costs with my credit cards so I can (1) get cashback for the giant purchase, and (2) buy myself an additional month to save more money before I have to pay off the credit cards. However, I don’t have a high enough credit limit between my 2 cards to pay for the entire expense. I requested a credit line increase with one card, and was denied. That was a shocker; last I checked my credit score was excellent. I was talking to a judge about this last week and he informed me that a new law signed by our president put a ceiling on existing credit lines. In exchange for better interest rates and payoff benefits for credit customers, the credit card companies are no longer allowed to increase credit lines so that the customers can’t incur even more debt than we have. Makes sense. He said that the way to get around it is to just apply for a new card, get a high credit limit on that one, instead of beefing up existing credit lines. But I don’t want a bunch of cards and credit liability sitting around, so I continue to shred all the credit card offers I get in the mail.

Yesterday, I opened my checking account statement to see a weird check approved. It was a check number way higher than the series I’m using, but the amount was nominal, just $29.95. I’m very accurate in my records-keeping, and my checkbook register showed no checks written for that amount. I looked online for an image of this check. I saw that this check is not one of my checks, has the name of my former bank on it instead of my current bank, seems electronically processed with payment to some Red Systems Ltd company I’d never heard of, the bank branch is in Northridge (nowhere I go), and the name of the account holder is my husband’s name (he’s NOT a joint account holder on this account), but with an oddball address in Clovis, CA (nowhere I go). AND…instead of a signature on the signature line, there’s a typed message saying “SIGNATURE NOT REQUIRED. Your depositor has authorized this payment to payee. Payee to hold you harmless for payment of this document. This document shall be deposited only to the credit of payee.” WHAT?! I didn’t authorize crap! The only thing that links this check to me is the fact that the check has my correct routing number and bank account number on the bottom. It’s just absurd that this bank would lock me out of my account for suspected fraud in October when I used the ATM in Venice, Italy, and then lock me out for suspected fraud last month when I made an online purchase for a Christmas gift with a vendor out of the country, but allow a check to go through that has the wrong customer, wrong customer address, and no signature. My guess is that the small theft of $29.95 didn’t raise any red flags. The thiefs probably assumed that because I’m married, my husband and I share joint accounts on everything so he’d be an authorized user of checks, and that if I wondered what the $29.95 check was for, I’d see that he wrote the check and let it go with the benefit of the doubt. Wrong.

I called my bank immediately on this, and they set up a claim for that fraudulent check and temporarily credited me the money. I was advised that as the fraud check uses my bank account number, that I should close the account and reopen a new one to avoid any future draws to pass through. I texted Rebecca and asked for a favor — whether she could tell if all this is a bank error, or fraud. If it’s fraud, I’m gonna close the account. She texted back that she sensed there was clerical error involved, but suggested I go to the bank and close the account anyway. (I’ll say there’s clerical error; the bank should’ve never let that check pass through.) So after work, I went to the bank.

It took almost an hour and a half to do a fraud freeze on my account; to authorize only my pending check payments and next direct deposit on that account (I had to fill out a form to say I authorize only these transactions); to open a new account; to move all the money not going to payments over into the new one. I’d missed my direct deposit deadline by one day, so I have to wait until after the checks clear and the next direct deposit comes in to move the remaining money over to the new account and permanently close the old one. And I have to change all the online and automatic billpay stuff linked to the old account to the new account. It’s a lot of hassle. But as we sat there and all this moving around was happening, the banker helping me said, “Because you’re opening a Premiere checking account, you’re also pre-qualified and pre-approved for our bank credit card.” I immediately said no as I habitually do, but then I thought better of it.
“Is it backed by Visa or Mastercard?” I asked. The only reason I use my ATM/Checkcard sometimes is because the occasional vendor takes Visa or Mastercard only. I’d been thinking I needed to get an actual Visa or MC credit card as backup for these situations.
“It’s Visa,” she said, showing me their three types of cards. One of them had no annual fee and had cashback perks, both of which are requirements for me to get a card. I wondered how much they would approve me for, thinking about the recent rejections of credit line increases. She took my information and sent it through on the computer. Moments later, she said, “Ten thousand.” So my credit score can’t be THAT bad! The card also has a 0% interest introductory period of 6 months.

And suddenly, I realized that THIS is the answer to my recent financial concerns. I can now put a large part of the fertility costs on this card, and get 6 months to pay it off interest-free. Meanwhile I’ll concentrate on paying off the amounts I put on the other cards that are not interest-free. Not having to pay this new card for so long allows me to pay off the other cards immediately, but still get the cashback perks, and I should have no problem paying off this card in 6 months.

So thank you, idiot fake check guy, for giving me reason to go to the bank and open a new account. Thank you, idiot bank-transaction-approval clerk, for your error in allowing such an obviously wrong check to go through, so that I had to go to the bank to close the account. Thank you, banker, for offering me your credit card at just the right time I needed it the most, since I had to sit in front of you anyway, or I would’ve ignored the pitch. Thank you, Rebecca, for telling me there wasn’t a big problem but that I should go in and close the account anyway. And thank you, Universe, for all the strings you had to pull to pull this one off. <3

Let’s see if I can whirlwind my way thru this, altho I’ve never been good at concise posts (unless I’m hiding something, ha).

Thursday:
Mr. W and I had discovered a weird raised mole on his shoulder so I made him an appointment with a doctor to get a referral to a dermatologist, if needed. Turns out the regular doctor said it was benign so that was good news, no derm referral necessary. We took the afternoon off work for the appointment, so we went home, he packed a few things, and we went to La Costa Resort & Spa in Carlsbad to spend the night. College roommie Diana and her fiance Eric had a certificate from their gym for a free night there, and she’d stayed there before on a business trip, and they gave us the certificate since it expires mid-month and they weren’t going to use it. The place is so nice! We were given tip top treatment with a golfcourse view off a huge suite, visited a quaint little oceanside town for dinner, enjoyed the huge tub, ate well, took walks. Great time.

Friday:
We took an early walk around the amazing resort grounds, had breakfast overlooking the greens, packed up, checked out, and went to my ob-gyn appointment. The doctor was very nice and looked at the ultrasound printouts the fertility clinic gave me, and agreed that up, these polyps need to come out. She made the referral and I’m expecting a call from the coordinator telling me the when and where and who. This doctor feels like it could be an office visit, much like the LEEP I did years before, and I didn’t need to be put through traditional surgery with the anesthesia and all that. That’s good cuz putting put complete under kinda wigs me out. So I get to watch polyps being removed on the screen. After the appointment, we went shopping at Fashion Island and I bought some stuff for my staff for xmas presents.

Saturday:
I’d booked a half-hour private reading with Rebecca, and booked a half-hour private reading for Mr. W’s friends Yvonne and Yvette right after hours, and invited Rebecca to lunch with all of us afterwards. Rebecca’s office was decorated very spa and very zen, and I commented enthusiastically on the decor as I went in. But minutes after I sat down on the couch, I noticed a compression type of feeling, like the atmosphere was heavy and dense, like I was in the pressurized cabin of a plane. Soon afterwards I found myself straining to take some deep breaths, as if there were pressure against my chest. Then the ear-ringing happened. I thought about bringing this up to Rebecca but didn’t, thinking if there were high-voltage power lines over her office or something unsafe like that, she’s the psychic, she’d know. (I’d brought this up with Mr. W afterwards and he did not feel any of these things.) As soon as she went into our readings, I got distracted and forgot about those feelings. She’s pretty specific when she’s doing private readings, not having to be tactfully private as she is when she’s in a crowd in the coffee shop. She even described our fertility doctor down to a tee, when I expressed concerns with our finances. She asked who the doctor is, and I just gave a last name, no gender. She immediately said, “Does he wear glasses?” Yes! “He is sort of balding on top, slender, petite?” YES YES YES! She says he’ll work with us, talk to him about splitting payments or payment plans; he sometimes needs to be reminded that his patients are humans, but that he’s amenable to working with us. She also said she felt a second child or soul coming to us after the first one. INTERESTING. I was afraid to look at Mr. W when she said this. Haha! After the readings, Rebecca’s husband and young son joined us and we all walked over to a Mexican food place next door to the coffee shop and had a great lunch.

Sunday:
We invited my parents over to treat them to a movie at the VIP Theatre we’ve been going to. They drove down and we had a good time walking around the town after the movie. Unfortunately, the movie that was playing was “Love and Other Drugs,” which I did not look into and just took Mr. W’s word that it was a romantic comedy. Turned out, it was practically a porno. Mr. W apologized to my parents afterwards for not realizing there was so much sex, but my dad laughed it off. After they left for home, Mr. W and I waited for his son to get here; he was over last week and said he was interested in coming with us for Rebecca’s group reading on Sunday, and for us to text to remind him. So I texted Sunday morning, “Reminder…rebecca tonite, be here by 6. :)” He texted back “K” and I was excited. Unfortunately, last minute he decided that a better offer came along to play tennis, so he flaked on us, telling his dad it was because his dad didn’t get back to him on what time Rebecca’s thing was (altho I’d told him to be here at 6p), so he had made plans to play tennis at 8:30 with his friends. Mr. W’s daughter, nearly out of her mind from studying for her finals for the last 4 days, spontaneously decided to come with us. That was unexpected since her religion typically frowns upon things like psychics, reincarnation, etc. She brought her study material and set up at the coffee house. She did participate openly, asking a few questions, watching people get readings on past-life stuff, said she’d never even considered the possibility that this isn’t our one-and-only-shot here as her church always insists it is. She was so touched and impressed by Rebecca she immediately contacted her closest friends and family and wants to book a private session. He even texted her brother saying they can split a private reading, he texted back that’d be cool and that he should’ve come. She said, “Yeah, you should’ve. :(” His flaking bothered me more than I thought it would. I couldn’t figure out why, since it’s not like he’s never flaked before. But I guess this was the first time I had REALLY expected him come through, and it meant something to me personally that he come through, because attendance was a promise he’d made ME. Rebecca did say in our private session on Saturday, tho, that I give him the materials, and it’s up to him to deal with it or not, but that he had a few years left of growing up to do before he came out of the teenager mindset he’s in.

So anyway, since I was up all night feeling bothered anyway, I thought I’d write Rebecca an email. Her response totally blew my mind…

Me:

Hi Rebecca! As usual it was great seeing you today. There were a lot of new people so I didn’t ask anything, giving them an opportunity to get to know you. But something I wanted to bring up…

When I visited you at your office on Saturday, within a few minutes of sitting there, I felt like the physical pressure inside the room was really high. Like in a pressurized cabin of a plane, or when you’re sitting half in and half out of a car and can feel that the pressure inside is denser than outside, and it makes your inner ears feel funny. And then I felt like there was pressure on my lungs, making it hard to breathe. Then my ears started ringing. I’m not sure what that was, and thought about bringing that up to you, but I figured that if there were something “off” about your space, that you’d be the first to know.

Rebecca:

First of all, Cindy, I just want to tell you what a delight you are in so many ways!

The energy you picked up on in my office was several things; the presssure in your chest was your empathy of my asthma. Being empathic means you feel other’s physical or emotional feelings. When that happens, simply acknowledge that you are feeling something, then send it back to the source from where it came.

The ringing in your ears, the funny feeling of being in and out of a car at the same time was about your exposure to the conscious field in my presence. You are showing integrity and clear intention to know more about God, the Conscious Field and Guidance and the Universe is responding to your request by exposing you to more awareness of what it feels like when there are energies around you.

You are the first to tell me of experiencing these sensations while in my office. I have had others talk about how peaceful it is or that it feels like good energy in there, but your awareness is growing by leaps and bounds.

Ringing in the ears has always meant (for me) that something or someone is trying to get me to stop and listen for a moment. I have always thought of the high pitched ringing as beings that are a lighter vibration such as insects or other small beings letting me know they are also helping and guiding when appropriate. It’s a good reminder that all beings in the Universe are supportive. 🙂

:O!!!
=D!!!
I thought about it, and I had been gradually getting to the point where I was more open to direct contact, whereas before I was a little put off by it. I hadn’t thought the 3 sensations I felt in her office was 3 separate things. I was afraid it’d be something like, there’s high-radiation or high-electrical lines flowing over the ceiling of her office and the building managers didn’t want to let her know how unhealthy that is, so they didn’t tell her it was there. I just figured maybe I was sensitive to that the way some people are sensitive to magnetic fields; it didn’t occur to me that it was third-eye type perception because the feelings were so PHYSICAL. I sent up a thank-you for giving me such clear sensations and exposure to that. I also thanked Rebecca for interpreting for me. I’ve felt stress or anxiety before that wasn’t mine, but never a physical feeling that feels like it’s coming from my own nerve cells. Wow. This just makes my week. 🙂

I meant the title as in “ahem,” altho I just started coughing, too.

We saw Rebecca on Wednesday and she advised me to hold off on the surgery until January. I was troubled and said something about it being so far away. She said, “There’s too much going on right now,” motioning around me with her hand, as if to circle me in her field of vision. “It won’t make a difference,” she reassured me. “You’ll be so much calmer after the surgery, and the extra time doesn’t make a difference. You understand what I’m saying? Does that make you feel better?” Trying to be discreet. Yes, I knew what she was saying. The kid will be the same kid, whether born a month sooner or months later. He’s still gonna be born in 2011. What’s the difference? And now I can drink at college roommie Diana’s wedding in January. “And the surgery will go well; they’ll go in and take care of it. It’s a small thing, no problems.” All this was prompted by, “I have an upcoming coming surgery that I’m nervous about.”

She’s right; there is a LOT going on, more than I thought there would be when I sat there near her. I think a lot got resolved last night in the wee hours, but not before the stress sent me dry-heaving over the toilet. As I sat on the floor of the bathroom, I thought, “She was right. If I were pregnant now, I’d probably be too affected and lose the baby.” Thank you for knowing what’s best, Universe.

And, given the fact that there’s a lot going on, and I’m still blogging, you lazy bloggers should feel inspired! Hint, hint!

Toward the end of the workday, Mr. W let me know that he was leaving to go home, but that he was going to drop off his drycleaning first. I said okay, and presumably he left after that conversation. I then spent the next half hour or so on the phone making my ob-gyn appointment with Kaiser. (Earliest available with any doctor in the county: December 10. Ugh.) I expected with the half-hour headstart, that even with his drycleaning (which was on Mr. W’s way home), Mr. W should get home before I did. So I called him as I drove up our street to ask him to open the garage door for me, since our garage can’t be opened remotely right now. He picked up after almost 4 rings, sounding serious. “Are you home?” I asked.
“No, I just got back,” he said.
“Got back to where?”
“I mean, I just finished dropping off my drycleaning and I’m just now getting back home. Are you home?”
“I’m just pulling up. What took you so long?”
“I had to drop off my drycleaning. I’m almost home, I’ll be back shortly.”
“But you left work almost 2 hours ago.”
“Well, I left late, and then I had to drop off my drycleaning. I’ll be back soon, so I’ll talk to you later, okay?”
Odd. And he sounded so serious, almost irate. And so CLEAR. No road noise whatsoever. Plus, he picked up after 4 rings, when his car has the bluetooth connection set to automatically pick up after the first ring. Something wasn’t right. Drycleaning doesn’t take that long, I’ve been to that place with him, he’s in and out in 5 minutes.
“You left late?” I prompted.
“Yes! I left late. And I just dropped off my drycleaning. I’ll talk to you when I get home, I’m almost home now. Okay?”
He sure was in a hurry to get me off the phone.
“Okay,” I said. I went in the front door and opened the garage door from inside the house by myself. After I parked my car in, I closed the garage door behind me. And I locked the front door, too. Hmmph.
Less than 15 minutes later, Mr. W called. I actually considered deliberately taking my time to pick up the phone. But I didn’t; I picked it up. “Yes?”
“I’m outside. Can you open the garage door for me?” he asked. I was silent. “Hello?” he said.
“I’m thinking about it,” I grumbled in my best cranky voice, even as I was already pushing the button. He laughed like he understood I was messing with him.

When he finally came in the house, I heard plastic rustling around, and he called out, “I got this for you.” Curious, I walked into the kitchen. He dumped an armload of stuff on the table. “Forty dollars’ worth of chocolate,” he said proudly. I gawked. And then I laughed. Check out this loot:

Ben & Jerry’s ice cream singles in Cherry Garcia, Strawberry Cheesecake, Mint Chocolate Cookie, Chocolate Fudge Brownie. Breyers dark chocolate ice cream. Claim Jumper’s infamous 6-layer Motherlode cake. I’m not a comfort food person, but I was TOUCHED. He brought home dinner. We each had a portion of the Motherlode cake (I couldn’t finish mine) with some ice cream for dinner, washing it down with tea. Mr. W did offer to pour alcohol over our dinner, too.

Apparently when I had called and he let slip that he’d “just gotten back,” he WAS back, in the neighborhood, across the street at the grocery store.
(If you’re thinking, “What’s with the chocolate?”, read the previous post.)

…I can drink and eat chocolate again.

It was a day of great people and bad circumstances. I took the morning off to go to two girlie doctor appointments. At the request of the fertility specialist we’d been working with, I scheduled a pap smear with my regular doctor for this morning, and then after that I’d scheduled another appointment with the fertility doctor’s office. Both are to make sure my reproductive parts are healthy and ready before we get into the heavy stuff. I had written down that my pap appointment was 8:40a, but on my drive there, I checked my voice mail just to make sure. I knew that over the weekend, while I was in San Francisco celebrating college roommie Diana’s bachelorette shindig, I had missed an automated call reminding me of that appointment. I stopped breathing when I heard the voice mail play back that my appointment for 8:20 was confirmed. I was 20 minutes late! The receptionist called up to the doctor right away and said that it wasn’t a problem, I was the first patient and they would still see me. Thank gawd. I hurried up and apologized profusely to the nurse who took my vitals, and then profusely to my doctor. Everyone was calmer about it than I was and said it wasn’t a big deal, they’ll catch up. I just hate thinking that I was one of “those” patients who threw off the entire day’s appointments. Luckily they only had one other morning appointment aside from myself. I had the quickest pap smear in history (2-3 minutes just like he promised) and they sent me on my way to my next appointment. It was a great thing they hurried for me, because I had instructions to “empty [my] bladder” at 9am, then to drink 16 oz of water at 9:30am to prepare for the trial transfer and sonohysterogram.

I would’ve been a tad early to the fertility clinic except that the freeway exit I was to get off on was closed due to construction. I went one exit past, then came back on the freeway the other way, hoping the same exit wouldn’t be closed to both northbound AND southbound traffic. The rest of the drive was uneventful and I was just barely on time, so it didn’t help the anxious state I was already in. Signing the consent form for the sonohysterogram, I read about potential side risks that made me even more nervous (bleeding, infection, dizziness, etc.). So in this other doctor’s office across town, I was once again on my back in stirrups, this time for a quick initial ultrasound (everything still looked normal; they counted 8 eggs on one ovary, 7 on the other, which is pretty good). Then the speculum is inserted for the trial transfer, and a very thin clear rubber/plastic hose is threaded through my cervix into the uterus so they can measure where they need to turn and direct the actual hose that they will use to implant the embryo when that time comes. This caused some cramping. I “ow ow ow”ed it a few times and the doctor stopped, letting the cramping subside. “Sorry, that was me,” she said, “I contacted the front of your uterus.” I knew they would have to do that to measure where they can put the instruments later on. You can’t go bumbling around in there when there’s a delicate embryo stuck to the end of that instrument later on. So once the thin hose was in place, the ultrasound instrument went in again for their measurements. And then, “Saline is going in now,” they told me, and I watched a dark cavity blossom on the screen. “Wow, that’s interesting,” I said. Then we all saw something fluttering in the black space as saline fluid inflated and lifted my uterine lining. I didn’t know what I was looking at, attached to the side of the uterus, and the doctor didn’t say anything yet, just took a bunch of screen shots. About a minute later the ultrasound wand came out, and the doctor and nurse said, “Okay, saline will start leaking out now, it’s okay,” and the tube was pulled out. I didn’t feel much leakage, I don’t think they put in much liquid. I was, more than anything, relieved at how quick the procedure was. “I told you it’d be nothing,” the doctor joked. After that, the bad news came. The doctor pointed at a screen shot of two oblongish, droplet-shaped things sticking out the side of my uterine wall. “Those are polyps,” she said. “You’re going to need to get those surgically removed before we can do anything further.” So it turns out that, although the polyps are not dangerous, just 1-2mm skin flaps, there’s a chance the embryo could adhere to a polyp instead of to the actual uterine wall, and that would prevent blood supply from forming to the embryo, or it simply wouldn’t stick and I’d lose the embryo. I was advised to call my regular doctor and schedule the surgery as soon as possible. After that, I’d get a month of recovery, and we’d start this fertility thing again.

So this means that this cycle isn’t going to be “the” cycle. I guess I could’ve drunk champagne and coffee and eaten the chocolate-covered strawberries with the girls this weekend. I can go take a shot of chocolate liqueur and chase it with a cigarette. The nurse said I can stop the prenatal vitamins, but to keep taking the birth control pills for now until the doctor calls and tells me otherwise. Meanwhile, they’ll call the Mr. W’s urologist, who had coordinated his schedule to be available for the sperm retrieval mid-December, and let him know it will all be rescheduled for later on. The pharmacy providing my shots and estrogen patches were also put on hold (I was supposed to start a series of shots called Lupron tomorrow, which I’d spent all week mentally preparing myself for). When the doctor (who is not my fertility doctor but another doctor in the same office) was explaining the polyps to me immediately after she discovered them, she said, “You seem to be very rational about all this.” And I am rational. I’m glad that they did this check first, or it would’ve been a lot of time, medication, and money wasted if something kept the embryo from attaching properly. I’m glad to know that there’s something minor wrong with me that could easily be fixed with a 1.5 hr surgery. Timing-wise, it means I have another month to recover economically from our vacation because all I paid for today was $903 for the ultrasounds and some other things, and not $10,000+ to start on the baby cycle. And I’m pretty sure insurance would pay for my surgery, since this is a non-elective medical issue that would interfere with fertility. The nurse handed me an antibiotic “just in case” since the procedure was invasive, told me to take it soon with food, and I was done there for now.

In the car after walking out of the fertility clinic, I called the regular appointment line for Kaiser and asked how to get a referral for this surgeon. The guy was very nice and sent a detailed message to my primary care doctor, whom I’d just seen earlier that morning for the pap. “He’ll let you know whether he’ll refer you to a general surgeon, or an ob-gyn surgeon.” I heard from my primary care doctor’s office within 15 minutes as I was driving to work. His assistant or nurse asked me to fax my doctor a copy of the Follicular Sonohysterogram Report, which had lots of photos of the ultrasound screen shots. The fertility doctor had printed the report and given it to me, saying my primary doctor may want to see it for the referral. So I faxed that over to my primary doctor’s office as soon as I got to work. His office got back to me within a few hours, relaying my doctor’s message that a referral is not needed in my situation; to just go ahead and call the ob-gyn specialist for an appointment. He also instructed the caller to tell me that the follicles on the ovaries may be normal. That was odd; I was never told anything may have been abnormal with the follicles (egg sacs) in my ovaries. So anyway, I will make that appointment with the ob-gyn shortly since I received this call in the middle of my blog post.

I told Mr. W about the findings at the fertility clinic. He seemed…crestfallen. That surprised me. I felt okay about it; I can see the advantages of finding out all this. But he thought we would be doing baby stuff within days, and now we have to wait at least a month after the surgery to allow my uterus to heal. But really, it’s not a big deal, right? What’s a month when there’s no actual deadline anyway? I’m gonna be over 35 when I give birth no matter what, and this way we ensure it’s not a wasted effort.

I briefed my supervisor on the sonohysterogram’s findings and warned him a future surgery is coming, but that it should be simple and out-patient. He said to go ahead and schedule it based on the surgeon’s availability, and not to worry about work; he’ll figure things out and get me the time off when I need it. He also told me my judge called out today. I was surprised; he never calls out. He comes in on his days off to do extra work. (I later found out he was in a car accident last nite. I should call and check up on him later.) Since I don’t have a judge, this means I can be floated out anywhere. I asked where I was to be this afternoon. My supervisor told me to go to my own courtroom and do whatever work I may still have. Basically he was giving me a freebie. That was very nice of him.

Mr. W and I went to lunch together. He asked me what I’d like to eat, and I suggested pho, knowing he craves that stuff. He was surprised, as I’d sworn off pho at our local area because of the high MSG content. I said I didn’t really care about it at this time, so he took me up on the suggestion. Walking into the pho restaurant, I thought about how I had been refraining from alcohol, fish, caffeine, raw foods, chocolate, etc. because my focus was on giving the baby the best chance at health. It wasn’t difficult, altho it was a bummer. I would’ve liked to celebrate the same way as the girls did this last weekend (everyone was respectful of my dietary restrictions and didn’t pressure me about anything). But because my goal was something so much bigger than myself, I wasn’t even tempted to drink tea or taste the free chocolate bon bon the restaurant made for each girl. I had refrained from MSG and unhealthy foods long before the baby thing, but I had done that for myself. My personal health (and yes, vanity to a degree) was very important to me. But after I started prepping my body for a pregnancy, THAT became the focus of the goal of health. Suddenly, that focus no longer exists for now. And instead of reverting back to my original focus that had been a part of my thought process for so much longer, I instead felt like I had no focus. No goal. I felt a little self-destructive. But what changed, physically? Nothing. I didn’t LOSE a baby. Human psychology is interesting. But I’ll refrain from drinking myself into oblivion tonight; I will still have use for this body, even if later than originally expected.

After retrieving all spare keys from non-residents, and professional maids bleached, deep-cleaned and vacuumed all surfaces reachable, the house is starting to feel a little less violated and I’m feeling more like myself. Except for the fact that I either don’t sleep, or sleep immediately upon my return home from work and skip dinner. Mr. W remarked this morning that he likes my early bedtimes as it ensures early mornings wherein I watch the news with him. I’m still not quite loving the news.

Yesterday evening Dodo came downstairs for water, then beelined to the stepdaughter (even though we were all there), meowing at her. She started petting him and he stuck to her side. This is new. Even more new: as he ascended the stairs, she walked up to the landing from downstairs and cooed his name. He went right to her on the other side of the stairway railing and she petted him as he flopped back and forth on the landing floor trustingly, enjoying her affection. You can really tell she’d put in her time with him while we were gone. The two have well-bonded, because Dodo is not normally a love-everybody cat. Not that he dislikes people, but he’s just usually cautious.

The early mornings have another advantage. I’ve been put on a pill regimen, and some of these require to be taken in conjunction with food, so I have to eat breakfast. I had no idea that prenatal vitamins are horsepill-sized, or that they are prescription. The antibiotics (azythromycin 500mg; double the dose of a z-pack) I was put on as a precaution is probably a good thing, given that I’d been traveling in 3 different countries that rained consistently, was confined to a cruiseship and planes with international diseases onboard, and have not been sleeping well or been in the best spirits. It’s a wonder I didn’t catch some exotic ailment already. I’ve also been banned from any intake of caffeine (this includes chocolate! and tea!), alcohol (great for my gutline, since moderate drinking has become a regular thing in the past month or so and I’d been meaning to cut it out), and tobacco (good thing I’m back from Europe; just being there probably gave me the equivalent of a cig or two a day from second-hand smoke alone, despite all my efforts to avoid it). Mr. W has to avoid alcohol for the next month, too. I had my concerns about that, since his stress level hasn’t been low either and he would normally turn to whiskey or add a little something to his coffee for a picker-upper. I think he’s been straight, though. It’s only fair; if I have to do everything I can and be as clean as possible to make sure this ridiculously expensive procedure doesn’t go awry, he could at least do his part. It’s not like they told HIM to cut caffeine, which would be close to torture for him. I find it interesting that I wasn’t told to avoid raw meats or fish. Does this mean that the cliche sushi-ban is based on nothing more than old wives’ tales?