I hope everyone has a wonderful and blessed Christmas, especially with relatives who don't ask too many questions or say anything insensitive. ;)
page html
Tuesday, December 25, 2012
Prayer buddy reveal
My prayer buddy this Advent was BlessedBeLord. I prayed for all her intentions, especially that she would conceive a child (soon!!) that she could raise here on earth.
I hope everyone has a wonderful and blessed Christmas, especially with relatives who don't ask too many questions or say anything insensitive. ;)
I hope everyone has a wonderful and blessed Christmas, especially with relatives who don't ask too many questions or say anything insensitive. ;)
Wednesday, December 19, 2012
Advent and IF
I know Advent is almost over, but I came across these words of Pope Benedict from a sermon he gave to college students in 1964 and wanted to share them.
To me this describes life with infertility quite well, not just during Advent. I feel like my whole journey with IF has been learning how to show God all the ugly sides that I wish weren't there. But I can see that it's especially relevant during Advent because while the Church is telling me to rejoice and prepare for the Lord's coming and have hope, I'm looking at my life wondering if I'm just supposed to ignore all the suffering in my life, at least until after Christmas, so as not to put a damper on the season. So I really appreciate what the pope said above about not having to ignore the burdens we're facing in order to observe Advent. Our priest on Sunday reminded us that our reason for rejoicing (especially on Gaudete Sunday) is not based on what's going on in our lives as tempting as that is (e.g. my world is falling apart so I don't feel like rejoicing); it's based totally on Christ, and it doesn't matter if we "feel" like rejoicing or not.
In some ways I do feel like Job--the part about telling God that I'm standing here in my darkness without answers, not the part about hurling outrageous accusations (I have questions, maybe, but not accusations). I thought infertility and a cycle that seems to be getting worse rather than better was plenty cross for me, but then DH's job loss happened. It made IF alone look a lot better; at least it's a familiar cross. Then a few days later my favorite and only living grandparent went into the hospital because she was tired. Grandma left with a heart diagnosis (estimated up to two years left) and cancer. She noticed the mass (tumor) years ago but didn't tell her doctor because it wasn't bothering her. Now it's too big to remove with surgery. She's electing not to do chemo or radiation because of her heart condition. I know my grandma won't live forever, but the thought of her being that sick breaks my heart. She is the glue that holds the family together. I look forward to seeing her at Christmas, but I imagine it just won't be the same. Needless to say it's been a very hard Advent. God, I'm standing here in my darkness. Light of Christ, please come. Dear prayer buddy, this is all offered up for you.
"That is why daring to talk to God out of the trial of our darkness, as Job did, is a part of the Christian life. It is not part of that life for us to suppose that we can present only half of our existence to God and have to spare him the rest because we might annoy him. No, it is precisely to him that we can and we must bring, in complete honesty, the whole burden of our life. We are rather too inclined to forget that in the Book of Job, handed down to us in Holy Scripture, at the end of the drama God declares Job to be righteous–Job, who has hurled the most outrageous accusations at God–while he rejects Job’s friends as speakers of falsehood, those friends who had defended God and had found some kind of good sense and answer for everything.
Observing Advent simply means talking with God the way Job did. It means just seeing the whole reality and burden of our Christian life without fear and bringing it before the face of God, as judge and savior, even if, like Job, we have no answer to give about it all, and the only thing left is to leave it to God himself to answer and to tell him how we are standing here in our darkness with no answers."
~from What It Means to Be a Christian by Joseph Ratzinger
To me this describes life with infertility quite well, not just during Advent. I feel like my whole journey with IF has been learning how to show God all the ugly sides that I wish weren't there. But I can see that it's especially relevant during Advent because while the Church is telling me to rejoice and prepare for the Lord's coming and have hope, I'm looking at my life wondering if I'm just supposed to ignore all the suffering in my life, at least until after Christmas, so as not to put a damper on the season. So I really appreciate what the pope said above about not having to ignore the burdens we're facing in order to observe Advent. Our priest on Sunday reminded us that our reason for rejoicing (especially on Gaudete Sunday) is not based on what's going on in our lives as tempting as that is (e.g. my world is falling apart so I don't feel like rejoicing); it's based totally on Christ, and it doesn't matter if we "feel" like rejoicing or not.
In some ways I do feel like Job--the part about telling God that I'm standing here in my darkness without answers, not the part about hurling outrageous accusations (I have questions, maybe, but not accusations). I thought infertility and a cycle that seems to be getting worse rather than better was plenty cross for me, but then DH's job loss happened. It made IF alone look a lot better; at least it's a familiar cross. Then a few days later my favorite and only living grandparent went into the hospital because she was tired. Grandma left with a heart diagnosis (estimated up to two years left) and cancer. She noticed the mass (tumor) years ago but didn't tell her doctor because it wasn't bothering her. Now it's too big to remove with surgery. She's electing not to do chemo or radiation because of her heart condition. I know my grandma won't live forever, but the thought of her being that sick breaks my heart. She is the glue that holds the family together. I look forward to seeing her at Christmas, but I imagine it just won't be the same. Needless to say it's been a very hard Advent. God, I'm standing here in my darkness. Light of Christ, please come. Dear prayer buddy, this is all offered up for you.
Sunday, December 9, 2012
What happens when you forget HCG
This:
Over Thanksgiving I forgot to bring my HCG along. I was gone during the days of my cycle when I usually take HCG. PMS ensued. Add in Thanksgiving traffic that moved at a glacial pace and me driving. It was not pretty. DH tried to defuse my mood. It didn't work. Poor DH. I definitely helped with his sanctification that day.
HCG will be the first thing I pack for Christmas vacation. :)
 |
| I saw this on the back of a car driving around town one day. |
Over Thanksgiving I forgot to bring my HCG along. I was gone during the days of my cycle when I usually take HCG. PMS ensued. Add in Thanksgiving traffic that moved at a glacial pace and me driving. It was not pretty. DH tried to defuse my mood. It didn't work. Poor DH. I definitely helped with his sanctification that day.
HCG will be the first thing I pack for Christmas vacation. :)
Friday, December 7, 2012
Some words of encouragement
You know how sometimes you come across some words of Scripture that you think God meant specifically for you on that particular day in that minute? That's how I felt when I heard this passage the other day. It's all of chapter 2 of Sirach. I think it's pretty fitting for Advent too.
When I first read this chapter, I thought it applies to IF quite well. I just found out today we are facing a new trial: DH lost his job. His employer is facing severe budget cuts and has no money left to pay him after this month. We knew his job was ending, but it wasn't supposed to happen until late next summer. He has been looking for a new job, but if he finds one it won't start until summer. If you could spare a prayer for us, we would very much appreciate it.
Sirach 2
1 My child, when you come to serve the Lord, prepare yourself for trials.
2 Be sincere of heart and steadfast, and do not be impetuous in time of adversity.
3 Cling to him, do not leave him, that you may prosper in your last days.
4 Accept whatever happens to you; in periods of humiliation be patient.
5 For in fire gold is tested, and the chosen, in the crucible of humiliation.
6 Trust in God, and he will help you; make your ways straight and hope in him.
7 You that fear the Lord, wait for his mercy, do not stray lest you fall.
8 You that fear the Lord, trust in him, and your reward will not be lost.
9 You that fear the Lord, hope for good things, for lasting joy and mercy.
10 Consider the generations long past and see: has anyone trusted in the Lord and been disappointed? Has anyone persevered in his fear and been forsaken? Has anyone called upon him and been ignored?
11 For the Lord is compassionate and merciful; forgives sins and saves in time of trouble.
12 Woe to timid hearts and drooping hands, to the sinner who walks a double path!
13 Woe to the faint of heart! For they do not trust, and therefore have no shelter!
14 Woe to you that have lost hope! What will you do at the Lord’s visitation?
15 Those who fear the Lord do not disobey his words; those who love him keep his ways.
16 Those who fear the Lord seek to please him; those who love him are filled with his law.
17 Those who fear the Lord prepare their hearts and humble themselves before him.
18 Let us fall into the hands of the Lord and not into the hands of mortals, for equal to his majesty is his mercy; and equal to his name are his works.
When I first read this chapter, I thought it applies to IF quite well. I just found out today we are facing a new trial: DH lost his job. His employer is facing severe budget cuts and has no money left to pay him after this month. We knew his job was ending, but it wasn't supposed to happen until late next summer. He has been looking for a new job, but if he finds one it won't start until summer. If you could spare a prayer for us, we would very much appreciate it.
Wednesday, December 5, 2012
The state of things
It's been a while since I posted. To be honest, I just haven't been motivated to write anything. When I'm sad, my tendency is not to post anything, as opposed to writing a sad post. I feel like I've entered a deeper phase of grief in the past few months. When the pain of sadness comes, it seems more intense than it used to be. It was probably exacerbated by the non-stop stream of pregnancy and birth announcements around me. (If one in eight couples has trouble conceiving, there must be tons of other IF couples out there somewhere, because among my acquaintances the fertile couples are heavily overrepresented.) It can seem really isolating to watch other couples who only know joy when it comes to getting pregnant while I'm sitting here with a tears in my eyes and a broken heart. But even though it seems that the sadness is worse, there are getting to be more times of acceptance, usually when I'm not sad, where I think that we'll be okay--well, more than okay--if we remain infertile. I had prayed for patience in this area a while ago (a dangerous prayer, I know), and I think I'm gradually seeing some good results. I just wish it would happen faster. hahaha
Here are some medical updates...
1. In my last post I wrote about how my TEBB disappeared for one cycle after the IV antibiotics and then returned. There was a bit of an improvement though--before the IV, I had around eight days of TEBB each cycle; after the IV, I was down to four days of TEBB. It's small, but it's something, right? ;) That lasted three cycles, so I figured it was my new pattern. Then this past cycle was a mess. There were six days of TEBB followed by four more days of brown bleeding midcycle. I haven't had that kind of midcycle spotting in a couple years. I don't know what caused it. I hope it doesn't happen again this cycle.
2. I had thyroid labs done because it had been a year since the last time it was checked. I found out my T4 is super low, so now I'm taking levothyroxine (Synthroid). I guess that makes me officially hypothyroid now...? (In the past only my T3 to reverse T3 ratio was low. Now that ratio is normal.) I'm up to six prescription medications... :P Is it bad that the pharmacist knows both DH and me by sight so he doesn't have to ask for our name? I must spend too much time at the pharmacy.
3. This cycle my Clomid dose increased to 50 mg on days 3-5. My P+7 levels have been borderline a few times, and my estrogen was low two cycles in a row. With the low T4 and now low estrogen, it seems my body is falling apart. What's next?
4. I've been having pain during my periods since the summer, so Dr. K is recommending that I have a second laparoscopy to see if my endo is back. I had been completely pain free after my first laparoscopy (February 2011), so the pain returning wasn't a good sign. It's not severe pain, so I can still go about my day, but it's enough that I would prefer to lie on the couch with a heating pad.
For the surgery, I had a choice between going to Dr. K in Omaha or going to a different surgeon (Dr. E) who was trained at PPVI and is only a few hours away from here. DH and I originally decided to go to the closer surgeon because of convenience and less expensive travel costs. I had an initial appointment with Dr. E recently, but it looks like it'll be a really long wait before the surgery would take place. I haven't spoken with the scheduler at PPVI, but now I think we're leaning toward going to Omaha. Hopefully we'll have a date soon.
Here are some medical updates...
1. In my last post I wrote about how my TEBB disappeared for one cycle after the IV antibiotics and then returned. There was a bit of an improvement though--before the IV, I had around eight days of TEBB each cycle; after the IV, I was down to four days of TEBB. It's small, but it's something, right? ;) That lasted three cycles, so I figured it was my new pattern. Then this past cycle was a mess. There were six days of TEBB followed by four more days of brown bleeding midcycle. I haven't had that kind of midcycle spotting in a couple years. I don't know what caused it. I hope it doesn't happen again this cycle.
2. I had thyroid labs done because it had been a year since the last time it was checked. I found out my T4 is super low, so now I'm taking levothyroxine (Synthroid). I guess that makes me officially hypothyroid now...? (In the past only my T3 to reverse T3 ratio was low. Now that ratio is normal.) I'm up to six prescription medications... :P Is it bad that the pharmacist knows both DH and me by sight so he doesn't have to ask for our name? I must spend too much time at the pharmacy.
3. This cycle my Clomid dose increased to 50 mg on days 3-5. My P+7 levels have been borderline a few times, and my estrogen was low two cycles in a row. With the low T4 and now low estrogen, it seems my body is falling apart. What's next?
4. I've been having pain during my periods since the summer, so Dr. K is recommending that I have a second laparoscopy to see if my endo is back. I had been completely pain free after my first laparoscopy (February 2011), so the pain returning wasn't a good sign. It's not severe pain, so I can still go about my day, but it's enough that I would prefer to lie on the couch with a heating pad.
For the surgery, I had a choice between going to Dr. K in Omaha or going to a different surgeon (Dr. E) who was trained at PPVI and is only a few hours away from here. DH and I originally decided to go to the closer surgeon because of convenience and less expensive travel costs. I had an initial appointment with Dr. E recently, but it looks like it'll be a really long wait before the surgery would take place. I haven't spoken with the scheduler at PPVI, but now I think we're leaning toward going to Omaha. Hopefully we'll have a date soon.
Tuesday, September 4, 2012
Two steps forward, one step back
I'm trying to look on the bright side here. In my heart, it feels like I've taken one step forward, and two steps back.
The forward progress was the elimination of my TEBB after the ten days of IV antibiotics. Yay!
I was TEBB-free for one cycle.
The TEBB returned the following cycle. Argh!
My first reaction was major disappointment. I'd say it was worse than how I felt when CD1 arrived. The IV was neither easy nor inexpensive. Was all of that effort, inconvenience, and money wasted? It's not like I could just have another one to make the TEBB go away again. What if this new/returned infection is now resistant to the antibiotic? And the big question in my mind...if DH had been treated simultaneously with an IV, would the TEBB have still returned?
But then I realized something. The fact that the IV eliminated the TEBB for one cycle gives us answers.
1. My TEBB is infection related. This was assumed to be the case before the IV since we exhausted the other five known causes of TEBB with other treatments; the IV simply confirmed that infection was indeed the cause.
2. My TEBB can be treated. This is good news. It took me several days to realize that this was good news because of the disappointment and sadness I was feeling, but better late than never.
When I did my cycle review at the end of the TEBB-free cycle, I received a response from Dr. K a couple days before the TEBB returned. (She said to continue with all the same meds, as expected. We were giving it three cycles post-IV before considering another surgery.) A week later, a nurse from PPVI called me unscheduled. (There had been a mix up with my local lab for my P+7 blood draw from the previous cycle, and we were trying to figure out what happened to my blood.) At the end of the call, I mentioned to her that my TEBB was back. I figured that she'd write it in my chart, and Dr. K would address it during the next cycle review.
I expected that Dr. K would say that she couldn't offer me any more treatments for TEBB and that I should look into visiting Dr. Toth in NYC for a complete diagnosis of the bug(s) involved and appropriate treatment. I know other bloggers have gone to see Dr. Toth, so I am aware of what it entails for both the wife and the husband. I have explained it to DH several times this year, knowing that Dr. K might recommend it to us at any time, so that he wouldn't be completely blindsided by the idea. There just is no way of sugar-coating the prospect of prostate injections. Or both of us spending 10 days in NYC for the treatment. (Logistically that would be very hard for him to do, but I think we could figure out a way to make it work.) At this point, DH is not open to the idea of going because of the prostate injection part.
Knowing this, I wasn't looking forward to hearing back from Dr. K. Surprisingly, she didn't wait until the next cycle review, and she didn't suggest Dr. Toth (yet). A nurse called me back the next day with the following recommendation:
-vitamin C - 1 gram twice a day on days 1-10
-bioflavonoids - 1000 mg three times a day
-B-complex - 100 mg a day
She said it's one of their TEBB protocols; the idea is to boost immune function. I had never heard of this combination being used for TEBB. I didn't ask how well this protocol worked for others or how long it takes to have an effect on the TEBB if it's going to work, so we'll see what happens. I've been taking the bioflavonoids and B-complex vitamins for a couple weeks now, and I'll start the vitamin C soon when CD1 arrives.
The forward progress was the elimination of my TEBB after the ten days of IV antibiotics. Yay!
I was TEBB-free for one cycle.
The TEBB returned the following cycle. Argh!
My first reaction was major disappointment. I'd say it was worse than how I felt when CD1 arrived. The IV was neither easy nor inexpensive. Was all of that effort, inconvenience, and money wasted? It's not like I could just have another one to make the TEBB go away again. What if this new/returned infection is now resistant to the antibiotic? And the big question in my mind...if DH had been treated simultaneously with an IV, would the TEBB have still returned?
But then I realized something. The fact that the IV eliminated the TEBB for one cycle gives us answers.
1. My TEBB is infection related. This was assumed to be the case before the IV since we exhausted the other five known causes of TEBB with other treatments; the IV simply confirmed that infection was indeed the cause.
2. My TEBB can be treated. This is good news. It took me several days to realize that this was good news because of the disappointment and sadness I was feeling, but better late than never.
When I did my cycle review at the end of the TEBB-free cycle, I received a response from Dr. K a couple days before the TEBB returned. (She said to continue with all the same meds, as expected. We were giving it three cycles post-IV before considering another surgery.) A week later, a nurse from PPVI called me unscheduled. (There had been a mix up with my local lab for my P+7 blood draw from the previous cycle, and we were trying to figure out what happened to my blood.) At the end of the call, I mentioned to her that my TEBB was back. I figured that she'd write it in my chart, and Dr. K would address it during the next cycle review.
I expected that Dr. K would say that she couldn't offer me any more treatments for TEBB and that I should look into visiting Dr. Toth in NYC for a complete diagnosis of the bug(s) involved and appropriate treatment. I know other bloggers have gone to see Dr. Toth, so I am aware of what it entails for both the wife and the husband. I have explained it to DH several times this year, knowing that Dr. K might recommend it to us at any time, so that he wouldn't be completely blindsided by the idea. There just is no way of sugar-coating the prospect of prostate injections. Or both of us spending 10 days in NYC for the treatment. (Logistically that would be very hard for him to do, but I think we could figure out a way to make it work.) At this point, DH is not open to the idea of going because of the prostate injection part.
Knowing this, I wasn't looking forward to hearing back from Dr. K. Surprisingly, she didn't wait until the next cycle review, and she didn't suggest Dr. Toth (yet). A nurse called me back the next day with the following recommendation:
-vitamin C - 1 gram twice a day on days 1-10
-bioflavonoids - 1000 mg three times a day
-B-complex - 100 mg a day
She said it's one of their TEBB protocols; the idea is to boost immune function. I had never heard of this combination being used for TEBB. I didn't ask how well this protocol worked for others or how long it takes to have an effect on the TEBB if it's going to work, so we'll see what happens. I've been taking the bioflavonoids and B-complex vitamins for a couple weeks now, and I'll start the vitamin C soon when CD1 arrives.
Sunday, July 15, 2012
My TEBB is...
GONE.
(picture me screaming here)
The IV antibiotics worked. I am stunned. And excited. Like jumping-up-and-down excited. This cycle might be the first realistic shot of getting a BFP that we've ever had. Except that I think my endo might have returned, but that's another story.
I talked to Dr. K. She said we'll give it three cycles. If we're not pregnant by then, a laparoscopy—my second one—is likely up next. I figured that would be the case. I'm okay with that.
But for now, I am hopeful. Like through-the-roof hopeful. :)
I have so much to write about and no time to do it in the near future as DH and I take a little vacation, but I couldn't wait to share this news.
(picture me screaming here)
The IV antibiotics worked. I am stunned. And excited. Like jumping-up-and-down excited. This cycle might be the first realistic shot of getting a BFP that we've ever had. Except that I think my endo might have returned, but that's another story.
I talked to Dr. K. She said we'll give it three cycles. If we're not pregnant by then, a laparoscopy—my second one—is likely up next. I figured that would be the case. I'm okay with that.
But for now, I am hopeful. Like through-the-roof hopeful. :)
I have so much to write about and no time to do it in the near future as DH and I take a little vacation, but I couldn't wait to share this news.
Tuesday, July 3, 2012
Three years of TTC
We are on cycle #30 of TTC. It's been three years since we started. That's a lot of TTC. And a lot of BFNs.
In some ways, IF has become comfortable—not enjoyable, mind you. I know what to expect. I know when I'll be extra sad or sensitive. I know when I can handle baby-related news with the greatest likelihood of having dry eyes. But I'm weary. Living with prolonged grief is emotionally draining. This third year of TTC has been noticeably harder than the prior year, probably because we've checked more and more things off the treatment list that haven't worked. I can see some good fruits that have come from this suffering. I know it has brought DH and me closer. I can sympathize better with others going through IF (like some of my clients) or anyone facing a difficult cross. As painful as IF can be, I trust that God will bring a greater good out of all of this. I may not know what that good is this side of heaven, but I know there is value and power in offering up this suffering. Without taking a more "eternal" perspective, I think it would be so easy to fall quickly into despair.
A good friend shared her BFP news with me recently. She was technically IF (according to NaPro's definition of six cycles) but never mentally crossed over...she hadn't been TTC "that long." She knew of our IF from the beginning and was supportive, offering frequent prayers for us. I tried to be happy for her, and in some sense I was. I am glad she doesn't have to delve deeply into the sad world of IF—either the emotional side or the medical treatment side. But when she told me the news my first feelings were ones of hurt. She waited until nearly the end of her first trimester to tell me. Why did she wait so long? I had spoken with her more than once since she would have learned she was pregnant and specifically asked about the latest in her TTC attempts each time I spoke with her. I guess I could see not wanting to tell "people" (in a general sense) until after the first trimester in case there would be a miscarriage, but I thought I was closer to her than that. I wonder if this self-pity is a by-product of IF. In my head I sometimes think others should feel sorry for me because I'm IF, so I also feel sorry for me. Now here's another opportunity to feel sorry for myself. I'm trying to give her the benefit of the doubt. I have no idea what's it like to decide when to share news of a first pregnancy. I guess if it were me, I'd want prayers from at least a few others as soon as I found out...especially with an increased risk of miscarriage (which she has). Maybe she was trying to protect my feelings by waiting to tell me...although the manner in which she shared the news with me was not sensitive to an IFer, so I doubt protecting my feelings was the reason. If you're super excited by your pregnancy, that means everyone you tell is going to be super excited as well...including your IF-for-three-years friend. (I did manage a fair amount of excitement in my response.) Apparently I never shared with her how hard pregnancy announcements are...or I didn't repeat it enough times before she got pregnant.
With her pregnancy announcement, it really hit me how left behind I feel. Just since last summer, there have been six weddings among our friends. Five of those six are pregnant or recently gave birth. We were TTC before most of them even started dating. I try not to be jealous, but sometimes I can't help it. IF is so hard.
As for this cycle, against my better judgement, I have hope. ;) (although I completely forgot to take Clomid at the beginning of the cycle...oops) I used to think that the more hopeful I was in the 2WW, the worse I'd feel when CD1 arrived. I guess for the most part, it has been true. But last cycle, for whatever reason, I had very little hope that the cycle would end in a BFP—with a week of TEBB staring me in the face, clearly something is still wrong—so AF arriving wasn't a surprise at all...yet I still felt as sad (and cried as much) as any other previous cycle. So if I'm going to cry when CD1 arrives regardless of my hope level, I might as well be hopeful now.
Do I know if the IV antibiotics got rid of my TEBB? No.
Am I putting way too much stock in quasi-pregnancy symptoms? Yes.
I have no breast tenderness at all. This is a change from usual. I always have a little bit of tenderness post-peak. Well, I'm pretty sure I always have it. I stopped writing it down a long time ago. But I still pay attention even if it's not recorded on paper. This could be just my brain trying to over-analyze things in an attempt to convince myself I could be pregnant. It has happened plenty of times before, and I've been wrong every time. haha Hopefully all the fun 4th of July festivities will distract me. :)
In some ways, IF has become comfortable—not enjoyable, mind you. I know what to expect. I know when I'll be extra sad or sensitive. I know when I can handle baby-related news with the greatest likelihood of having dry eyes. But I'm weary. Living with prolonged grief is emotionally draining. This third year of TTC has been noticeably harder than the prior year, probably because we've checked more and more things off the treatment list that haven't worked. I can see some good fruits that have come from this suffering. I know it has brought DH and me closer. I can sympathize better with others going through IF (like some of my clients) or anyone facing a difficult cross. As painful as IF can be, I trust that God will bring a greater good out of all of this. I may not know what that good is this side of heaven, but I know there is value and power in offering up this suffering. Without taking a more "eternal" perspective, I think it would be so easy to fall quickly into despair.
A good friend shared her BFP news with me recently. She was technically IF (according to NaPro's definition of six cycles) but never mentally crossed over...she hadn't been TTC "that long." She knew of our IF from the beginning and was supportive, offering frequent prayers for us. I tried to be happy for her, and in some sense I was. I am glad she doesn't have to delve deeply into the sad world of IF—either the emotional side or the medical treatment side. But when she told me the news my first feelings were ones of hurt. She waited until nearly the end of her first trimester to tell me. Why did she wait so long? I had spoken with her more than once since she would have learned she was pregnant and specifically asked about the latest in her TTC attempts each time I spoke with her. I guess I could see not wanting to tell "people" (in a general sense) until after the first trimester in case there would be a miscarriage, but I thought I was closer to her than that. I wonder if this self-pity is a by-product of IF. In my head I sometimes think others should feel sorry for me because I'm IF, so I also feel sorry for me. Now here's another opportunity to feel sorry for myself. I'm trying to give her the benefit of the doubt. I have no idea what's it like to decide when to share news of a first pregnancy. I guess if it were me, I'd want prayers from at least a few others as soon as I found out...especially with an increased risk of miscarriage (which she has). Maybe she was trying to protect my feelings by waiting to tell me...although the manner in which she shared the news with me was not sensitive to an IFer, so I doubt protecting my feelings was the reason. If you're super excited by your pregnancy, that means everyone you tell is going to be super excited as well...including your IF-for-three-years friend. (I did manage a fair amount of excitement in my response.) Apparently I never shared with her how hard pregnancy announcements are...or I didn't repeat it enough times before she got pregnant.
With her pregnancy announcement, it really hit me how left behind I feel. Just since last summer, there have been six weddings among our friends. Five of those six are pregnant or recently gave birth. We were TTC before most of them even started dating. I try not to be jealous, but sometimes I can't help it. IF is so hard.
As for this cycle, against my better judgement, I have hope. ;) (although I completely forgot to take Clomid at the beginning of the cycle...oops) I used to think that the more hopeful I was in the 2WW, the worse I'd feel when CD1 arrived. I guess for the most part, it has been true. But last cycle, for whatever reason, I had very little hope that the cycle would end in a BFP—with a week of TEBB staring me in the face, clearly something is still wrong—so AF arriving wasn't a surprise at all...yet I still felt as sad (and cried as much) as any other previous cycle. So if I'm going to cry when CD1 arrives regardless of my hope level, I might as well be hopeful now.
Do I know if the IV antibiotics got rid of my TEBB? No.
Am I putting way too much stock in quasi-pregnancy symptoms? Yes.
I have no breast tenderness at all. This is a change from usual. I always have a little bit of tenderness post-peak. Well, I'm pretty sure I always have it. I stopped writing it down a long time ago. But I still pay attention even if it's not recorded on paper. This could be just my brain trying to over-analyze things in an attempt to convince myself I could be pregnant. It has happened plenty of times before, and I've been wrong every time. haha Hopefully all the fun 4th of July festivities will distract me. :)
Monday, June 25, 2012
I'm free!
The PICC line has been removed! Yay! Free at last! :)
I didn't feel a thing as the nurse removed it. The "worst" part was actually when she was removing the tape that held everything in place, but that wasn't too bad.
I still have to wait another day before I can shower so the hole in my arm closes up. I don't often look forward to showers this much, but I can't wait!
Now we wait and see what happens. I'm mid-cycle now, so it'll be several weeks before we'll know if the antibiotics eliminated my TEBB. Of course, if AF doesn't come, that would be fine with me, too. :)
To be honest, I am scared. I am scared to hope. I am more scared of the disappointment if this doesn't work. I am scared that Dr. K could say there's nothing more she can do against the TEBB. I keep telling myself that I just have to trust God on this for whatever happens, but it's so much easier said than done. I may have to keep reminding myself every five minutes, "Jesus, I trust in you."
I didn't feel a thing as the nurse removed it. The "worst" part was actually when she was removing the tape that held everything in place, but that wasn't too bad.
I still have to wait another day before I can shower so the hole in my arm closes up. I don't often look forward to showers this much, but I can't wait!
Now we wait and see what happens. I'm mid-cycle now, so it'll be several weeks before we'll know if the antibiotics eliminated my TEBB. Of course, if AF doesn't come, that would be fine with me, too. :)
To be honest, I am scared. I am scared to hope. I am more scared of the disappointment if this doesn't work. I am scared that Dr. K could say there's nothing more she can do against the TEBB. I keep telling myself that I just have to trust God on this for whatever happens, but it's so much easier said than done. I may have to keep reminding myself every five minutes, "Jesus, I trust in you."
Tuesday, June 19, 2012
Life attached to a bag
It’s not so bad, really. Most of the time I don’t feel anything. Sometimes if I move my arm too quickly I feel pain in my shoulder or arm, but it’s brief. My main concern is keeping track of the long tubing that connects me to the medicine pump so I don’t catch it on anything when I’m moving around.
The PICC line procedure on Friday went pretty well. My definition of “pretty well” is that I remained conscious the whole time and it wasn’t horribly painful. I did, however, nearly faint during the pre-procedure blood draw where they needed five tubes of my blood. One of the labs was a pregnancy test—my second ever—and like last time (before my laparoscopy) it was completely unnecessary; one look at my CrMS chart which would show a zero percent chance of pregnancy...but of course no one would trust that. I digress. I thought I was over my fear of needles. I guess I'm not. You'd think that after all the blood work I've had done in the last couple years that I would be used to it by now. I've been having monthly draws for P+7 labs for about the last year without a problem. The fact that I hadn’t eaten anything Friday morning as instructed was probably a factor in my lightheadedness. Fortunately I was only lightheaded briefly and didn’t pass out completely; if I had fainted, I would’ve had to have gone to the ER, and they would have cancelled the procedure. I like to think I have a pretty awesome guardian angel watching over me. :) And I appreciate the prayers from all of you.
The nurse who placed my PICC line was very nice. He said he does PICC lines all day every day, which was reassuring. When I mentioned to him that I nearly fainted during the blood draw earlier, he asked if I had eaten anything, to which I replied that I was told not to so I didn't. He got upset (at the person who gave me that direction) because the nothing-by-mouth order is not necessary at all for PICC line placements. He promised to make sure I would stay conscious for the whole procedure. :) I asked if he would use my left arm since I spend lots of time on the computer and wanted my mouse-using arm uninhibited, but he reminded me that the anatomy on the right side gives him a straight, short route to the heart; the left side can be more challenging for him because it’s not so straight or short. I was immediately convinced that the right side was the way to go. ;)
First, he did an ultrasound of my upper arm to see the vein. Then he injected anesthetic so I didn't feel anything painful during the rest of the procedure aside from a strange, uncomfortable sensation that there was something deep in my arm and shoulder. (He was guiding a catheter through my arm vein so it reached my heart…superior vena cava if you want to be exact.) The actual procedure part took five minutes. I couldn't see anything he was doing—not that I wanted to look—because he had draped my arm area with a bunch of blue fabric-like paper which created a little wall blocking my view. He did another ultrasound at the end. Then I went for a chest x-ray to make sure the tip of the catheter he had inserted was in the correct place. Finally they did a test infusion of the antibiotic for a half hour to make sure I didn't have a bad reaction to it. Meanwhile they served both DH and me breakfast. The meal looked like something you'd get at a restaurant, not typical hospital food. At that point, DH declared that he was glad that he came along. He likes to be fed. :)
Three and a half hours after arrival, I left the hospital with the two “ports” (aka lumens) taped to my upper arm and covered by a cloth band that looks like a white gym sock. I was not hooked up to any medicine at that point.
The home health nurse came later to start the antibiotic and teach me what to do. Each bag of antibiotic lasts for one day (it's infused continuously over 24 hours), and then I need to change the bag. When I attach a new bag I also need to flush one port with a syringe full of saline and the other port with heparin. The second port is there in case they need to draw any labs. The heparin keeps that port from clotting up while it's not in use. I don't really feel anything when I do the flushing part. I don't see anything except the ports; there is a bandage over my skin where they are attached. The nurse will come back sometime this week to change the dressing. I'm glad I don't have to do that. :)
In my attempts to conceal this whole arrangement from other people’s attention, I discovered that a shirt and a cardigan together are sufficient to hide the bulge that the ports create on my upper arm. The tube running from my arm to the infusion pump is long (about 5 feet). I am able to hide it under my shirt by running it up my sleeve and having it come out by my waist. The pump and bag of antibiotics are both kept in a pouch with a shoulder strap, which looks like a large camera bag. I have dubbed it the ugly purse.
There is no way I can hide it under my shirt. If I took the pump and antibiotic bag out of the pouch, I could possibly hide them if I strapped them to my abdomen and wore a bulky sweatshirt, but that’s not my typical attire when I go out in public. I might try that if the pump had a belt clip on it, but it doesn’t. For Mass and for running errands, I put the pump and antibiotics in my regular purse so no one would notice anything out of the ordinary (except for about an inch of clear tubing which I tried to cover with my hand). I’m sure I looked a bit strange with my purse on my shoulder during all of Mass, but no one questioned me about it. ;)
Daily activities take a bit longer to do when you’re attached to a bag all the time. Getting dressed is challenging because essentially my arm is now 5 feet longer than usual. My arm’s range of motion isn’t quite as good as normal, but it has improved since Friday when certain movements caused shoulder pain. When the phone rings, I can’t just jump up and get it; I have to gather all my tubing together with the bag to make sure I don’t snag it on something. Bathing takes a lot longer because it was drilled into me by several nurses that I cannot get the PICC line wet for fear of infection. One nurse said I could wrap my arm in plastic wrap before showering; another said no showering at all. Since it’s just for ten days, I’m avoiding the shower and using a sponge or washcloth. I wash my hair in the sink. At night the bag sits on the stand right next to my pillow so there is plenty of slack in the tubing in case I roll around while I’m sleeping. I’ve stopped sleeping on my right side because the ports dig into my arm if I lie in that position.
So far I haven’t had any bad reactions to the medicine or to the PICC line itself, aside from occasional itchiness where the tape is.
I'm glad this is only for ten days. I’ve been thinking a lot about people who need to have PICC lines in place for months at a time. I’m not sure everyone needs to be attached to their medicine 24 hours a day like I do (they may just have brief infusion periods and then can be “free” of the tubing and bag for most of the day) but it definitely has made me more sympathetic.
Less than a week to go! I’m counting down the days…
The PICC line procedure on Friday went pretty well. My definition of “pretty well” is that I remained conscious the whole time and it wasn’t horribly painful. I did, however, nearly faint during the pre-procedure blood draw where they needed five tubes of my blood. One of the labs was a pregnancy test—my second ever—and like last time (before my laparoscopy) it was completely unnecessary; one look at my CrMS chart which would show a zero percent chance of pregnancy...but of course no one would trust that. I digress. I thought I was over my fear of needles. I guess I'm not. You'd think that after all the blood work I've had done in the last couple years that I would be used to it by now. I've been having monthly draws for P+7 labs for about the last year without a problem. The fact that I hadn’t eaten anything Friday morning as instructed was probably a factor in my lightheadedness. Fortunately I was only lightheaded briefly and didn’t pass out completely; if I had fainted, I would’ve had to have gone to the ER, and they would have cancelled the procedure. I like to think I have a pretty awesome guardian angel watching over me. :) And I appreciate the prayers from all of you.
The nurse who placed my PICC line was very nice. He said he does PICC lines all day every day, which was reassuring. When I mentioned to him that I nearly fainted during the blood draw earlier, he asked if I had eaten anything, to which I replied that I was told not to so I didn't. He got upset (at the person who gave me that direction) because the nothing-by-mouth order is not necessary at all for PICC line placements. He promised to make sure I would stay conscious for the whole procedure. :) I asked if he would use my left arm since I spend lots of time on the computer and wanted my mouse-using arm uninhibited, but he reminded me that the anatomy on the right side gives him a straight, short route to the heart; the left side can be more challenging for him because it’s not so straight or short. I was immediately convinced that the right side was the way to go. ;)
First, he did an ultrasound of my upper arm to see the vein. Then he injected anesthetic so I didn't feel anything painful during the rest of the procedure aside from a strange, uncomfortable sensation that there was something deep in my arm and shoulder. (He was guiding a catheter through my arm vein so it reached my heart…superior vena cava if you want to be exact.) The actual procedure part took five minutes. I couldn't see anything he was doing—not that I wanted to look—because he had draped my arm area with a bunch of blue fabric-like paper which created a little wall blocking my view. He did another ultrasound at the end. Then I went for a chest x-ray to make sure the tip of the catheter he had inserted was in the correct place. Finally they did a test infusion of the antibiotic for a half hour to make sure I didn't have a bad reaction to it. Meanwhile they served both DH and me breakfast. The meal looked like something you'd get at a restaurant, not typical hospital food. At that point, DH declared that he was glad that he came along. He likes to be fed. :)
Three and a half hours after arrival, I left the hospital with the two “ports” (aka lumens) taped to my upper arm and covered by a cloth band that looks like a white gym sock. I was not hooked up to any medicine at that point.
 |
| My arm with the two ports |
The home health nurse came later to start the antibiotic and teach me what to do. Each bag of antibiotic lasts for one day (it's infused continuously over 24 hours), and then I need to change the bag. When I attach a new bag I also need to flush one port with a syringe full of saline and the other port with heparin. The second port is there in case they need to draw any labs. The heparin keeps that port from clotting up while it's not in use. I don't really feel anything when I do the flushing part. I don't see anything except the ports; there is a bandage over my skin where they are attached. The nurse will come back sometime this week to change the dressing. I'm glad I don't have to do that. :)
 |
| The pump, medicine, and other supplies |
In my attempts to conceal this whole arrangement from other people’s attention, I discovered that a shirt and a cardigan together are sufficient to hide the bulge that the ports create on my upper arm. The tube running from my arm to the infusion pump is long (about 5 feet). I am able to hide it under my shirt by running it up my sleeve and having it come out by my waist. The pump and bag of antibiotics are both kept in a pouch with a shoulder strap, which looks like a large camera bag. I have dubbed it the ugly purse.
 |
| The ugly purse (with a 8.5"x11" piece of paper behind it) |
Daily activities take a bit longer to do when you’re attached to a bag all the time. Getting dressed is challenging because essentially my arm is now 5 feet longer than usual. My arm’s range of motion isn’t quite as good as normal, but it has improved since Friday when certain movements caused shoulder pain. When the phone rings, I can’t just jump up and get it; I have to gather all my tubing together with the bag to make sure I don’t snag it on something. Bathing takes a lot longer because it was drilled into me by several nurses that I cannot get the PICC line wet for fear of infection. One nurse said I could wrap my arm in plastic wrap before showering; another said no showering at all. Since it’s just for ten days, I’m avoiding the shower and using a sponge or washcloth. I wash my hair in the sink. At night the bag sits on the stand right next to my pillow so there is plenty of slack in the tubing in case I roll around while I’m sleeping. I’ve stopped sleeping on my right side because the ports dig into my arm if I lie in that position.
So far I haven’t had any bad reactions to the medicine or to the PICC line itself, aside from occasional itchiness where the tape is.
I'm glad this is only for ten days. I’ve been thinking a lot about people who need to have PICC lines in place for months at a time. I’m not sure everyone needs to be attached to their medicine 24 hours a day like I do (they may just have brief infusion periods and then can be “free” of the tubing and bag for most of the day) but it definitely has made me more sympathetic.
Less than a week to go! I’m counting down the days…
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)