I started crying on the way to the Doctors office today. I don’t even know where it came from. I thought I had done such a great job preparing myself. I thought that I was being extra strong. Then, it was time to leave, and I just shut down. The whole drive there I was wiping tears away, thinking about all of the “what-if’s” and worrying about losing my chance. This is how I know that I am ready to be a mother: because the idea of not being a mother is simply inconceivable to me.
I was sitting in the waiting room trying to control my thoughts (and also trying to figure out why it was now that said thoughts chose to bombard me). I was worrying about everything. What having to move my IVF up would mean in regards to money (which is not yet in place), and vacation time (which I still need to build back up after San Diego). What it would mean if I did have to have surgery again. How I would go back to work today if this really was as bad as I had built it up to be in my head. All the things it made no sense to be worrying about before I even had the ultrasound, but that I was worrying about just the same.
I walked back to the room terrified, and got on the table for what has now sadly become a standard trip to the Dr. for me. The ultrasound tech was one I hadn’t seen before (which was odd, because I thought I had seen them all), and she briefly went over my history and what she should and shouldn’t be looking for (you know, those painful reminders every time you see a new Dr. The ones where they like to be told about every surgery you've had, everything that's been removed, and what your plans for the future are... When I told this one I was going to be doing IVF in November, her only response was "Good." I can see she's read my records...) Then she started.
Almost immediately she pointed to a circle on the screen “You see that right there?” she said. “Yes.” I murmured, terrified. I was waiting for her to tell me it was something awful; something horrendous I hadn’t even thought of up to that moment. “That is a gas bubble." She said. "Are you feeling gassy?” I was shocked. “No.” I stumbled with my words (I was mildly fascinated that she could tell I was gassy before I even realized it myself) “But I did have broccoli for lunch.” That was seriously all I could come up with. I had broccoli for lunch. Great. “And that right there?” She said, pointing to another area on the screen. Before I could say anything she said “That’s the bowel movement you’ll probably have later today.” I busted out laughing. It was all I could do. God bless this lady for knowing that the best way to ease my anxiety was to start talking about poop. Suddenly, I was so much more comfortable!
From there, we got to see my ovaries from all angles. There were new cysts, but I had expected that (I knew that nothing else would cause this pain); I was prepared. And the truth is, they weren’t as large as I had imagined in my head. In fact, it took a minute of looking before I could even see them (whereas, the ultrasounds before my last two surgeries both showed off glaring, large, black abysses of cysts devouring my ovaries from all sides.) This isn’t great news (it means that the endo is still growing and spreading, despite the Lupron), but it could have been worse. I still need to talk to my Dr. tomorrow morning, but the ultrasound tech said that what she thinks will probably happen is that I will stay on the Lupron, but start coming in for monthly (or bi-monthly) ultrasounds to monitor the progression of the cysts she marked off today. If they continue growing (or start to spread) aggressively, then we may have to schedule another surgery and bump my IVF up, but she said I shouldn’t worry about that until it happens (story of my life, right?) Maybe the Lupron just needs some time to kick in; maybe everything will slow down even more. There is really no telling what will happen, but for now it looks like proceed as planned. If I hit another bump, we’ll deal with it when it comes.
I went to pay my $445 bill (damn you new year and new deductable… I had gotten used to free healthcare after my first surgery maxed out my out of pocket costs last year!) The admin lady looked at me and said “Take it and run. It’s a big one. We’ll bill you and you can pay it when you get a chance.” I wanted to tell her that I could pay for it now (I had prepared for this, and I knew my first appointment would be a big one until I hit that deductible), but then I saw what a gift it was that she was trying to give me... She knew this was a hard appointment for me to have to come in for; she wanted to make it that much less painful. I really love going to this Doctors office. They are so kind, and warm, and compassionate (plus, I guess by now they know I’ll pay one way or another!) It’s just such a difference from my first Dr., where I always left feeling stupid and somehow bad about myself (like this was all in some way my fault).
When I switched Doctors I felt so much guilt, as though I had no right questioning a man who was clearly more intelligent than I was. He had me so convinced I had cancer though (he mentioned it every visit), and that if he did surgery I would have to prepare myself to wake up empty… I just couldn’t stay, no matter how much I felt like I didn’t have the right to question him. I found my Doctors office because they were the home of the only Gynecological Oncologist in the state of Alaska (and, like I said; I was sure I had cancer). When I first called, I spoke to the same woman that told me to run with my bill today. My voice was shaking as I tried to relay to her my medical history and the things I had been told (up to that point, all I knew was that I had masses on both my ovaries that were growing and spreading rapidly, with no real explanation as to why, or even what they were.) She referred me to the Dr. I see now, and told me that if it did turn out to be cancer I would then be referred to the Gynecological Oncologist. She was so kind and understanding and I immediately felt like I was doing the right thing. Since switching, I have seen such a vast difference in my treatment (and in the management of my disease) that I kick myself every day for waiting as long as I did. I often wonder how much more could have been saved if I had found this office from day one. Never again will I ever feel guilty for questioning a Dr. If I’ve learned anything from any of this, it’s to trust your own instincts, no matter how much smarter (or more condescending) the person you’re facing is.
In other news, I was reviewing all my sperm donor program information today. In it, there was a consent form that said “Consent to Accept Donated Sperm”. For half a second I caught myself thinking “What am I doing? Is this really what I want? Some nameless, faceless daddy for my child?” I had to stop myself, and remind that voice of all the reasons why I’ve made this decision, and all the ways in which it is the right decision for me. Still. Sometimes I get stuck in the “how is this my life?” thought process. I really never thought I would be doing this alone, and it’s hard to feel alone in this; hard to remind myself daily that I am going to be parenting on my own, and that that is an actual decision I’ve made.
Not to mention, sperm is expensive. By the time everything is said and done, it’s like $600 a vial (although, bringing in your own can actually get more pricey after all the testing that has to be done). Who knew? If I had any idea how much that stuff cost, I would have started stockpiling it years ago and selling it on e-bay! I mean, realistically, I could buy a vial of crack cocaine for cheaper than that. Not that I’ve ever bought crack cocaine, or know how much it costs, or even know whether or not it comes in vials; but you get what I’m saying. For the cost of that oooie-gooie substance that I have wiped off my stomach countless times with the boy of the moments sock (or towel, or whatever happens to be lying around… sorry, all probably too much information. I recognize the error of my ways here, I just don’t care so much right now… hopefully no one takes too much offense at my crassness.), I could have my very own vial of crack cocaine. These are things to consider.
And that isn’t even factoring in the $200 I have to spend at the end of this month to speak to a social worker who has to deem me fit to be admitted into their donor sperm program to begin with. I kind of want to tell that lady “Listen: Do have any idea how much sperm I’ve had my hands on in my life? You can either agree to let me pay for the stuff, or I can go out and find some to bring on in, but either way; someone’s sperm is getting put in me. You might as well save us both some time and just sign off on me being an acceptable candidate.” Because really, how do they define an acceptable candidate? At least I’ve thought about this decision. Women get pregnant accidentally every day (without having a second to think about it), and then go on to be single mothers without anyone else getting an opinion. I’ve got this under control (or at least, I like to pretend I do.)
Side note: When I told my grandmother I was going to use a sperm donor, her response was "Well, at least you don't have to worry about any of those STD things." You've got to love my grandma. Even when she doesn't quite "get" it, she still tries oh so hard.
And, I think that’s enough randomness for one day! First day of healthy eating went well, but I didn’t quite make it to the gym. I could bore you with my excuses (I’m tired; my back really does hurt; it’s been a long day), but really, it just comes down to the fact that I hate gyms. I will run and bike and hike every day in the summer time, but it takes a lot to convince myself to go to a gym packed full of a bunch of lurky, sweaty, grunting guys (normally all things I’m a fan of, just not so much when they’re so focused on their own bodies that they forget to look at mine), and move in place for an hour while watching some mindless television show. I just don’t enjoy it. So for tonight… I’m going with “It’s been a really long day”.
Plus… I’m gassy you know.
ADSPACE
