Friday, October 05, 2007

day 31

and Period Watch 2007 recommenced.

Only to end a day later. Hello! From day...I'm not sure, four? Five? Four and a half?

So I'm kind of regualr now, not that it means shit, what with my fully orchestrated IVF cycle coming up soon and taking over all operations down below anyway.

Yes! IVF! Soon! Ish. I saw (Dr) Marc on September 13 for my bloods and to get the results of that awesomely sexy scan were revealed - and sportsfans, my bod-hay is acting like a nubile teen, and the numbers that matter, my Day 5 FSH and LH, seem to have found the fountain of youth. My FSH was...I don't know. It was at the low end of normal, along with my LH, all of which is a good thing and an indicator that my body is producing eggs (finally!) with ease, which is about the only deciding factor (for me) at this point, because if I wasn't producing my own eggs, that'd be it for me.

Science lesson time: once you've reached peri or full menopause, your body ramps up your FSH levels to try and force your ovaries into producing an egg, but if there are no eggs there, no amount of FSH - not even the ludicrous amounts used in fertility treatmetn - is going to make them produce one, so there's no point even considering IVF unless you're also considering donor eggs.

Which I am not.

Anyhoo, my girl bits are all fine, thank you very much. My thyroid though, is an ass and Marc wants a second opinion because my bloods showed I'd tripped back into actual hypothyroid, not the is she/isn't she? variety of thyroid ridiculousness, so bla bla need to see my endocrinologist bla.

It could explain why I'm such a lazy lump of blah though. My thyroid was superdooper low in the past, requiring STACKS of medication to get me to better, and after my hair staying in my head throughout the whole FUCK! How Can She Even Stand Upright With THOSE Numbers?! phase, it was the meds that tripped some switch and sent my hair leaping out of my follicles and onto the floor. The stupid drugs kind of made me want to die too, kind of literally (me: The drugs! Are killing me! my idiot doctor: Take Some Zoloft. me: Fuck You) so I eventually weaned off them and got kind of stuck in this no mans land of underactivity. These days, some results come back almost normal, some kind of normal, and on the odd occasion, just inside of normal. Never great though. BUT! I'm a lot better than I was as I started out with 24, now I'm like, around 4 or 5 (which are the important numbers, lower being better, unless they get too low, of course), which is only about 1 outside of the accepted range, so I am a lot better than I was. I don't want to go back on thyroid medication either, because self inflicted (or any other kind, actually) death doesn't appeal to me at this point in my life, and the peachy keen blood results they give me meant SHIT because I felt like shit the entire time I was on them. Also, the baldness factor kind of sucks ass.

None of that bullshit is going to interfere with my IVF cycle, but it is a concern as low thyroid levels mean more chance of miscarriage. But I'm not even going to consider that to be a possibility la la la la la.

And anyway, I'm so *yawn* about the whole thyroid deal that I keep forgetting to call my guy, Professor Endocrinologist, who on y initial visit with him a century or so ago, said "uh, yes, some people need the addition of drug Y to the usual thyroid drug X if they want to avoid the desire off themselves". (Dear Dr Idiot, fuck you, reprised) Professor Endocrinologist also knows I'm not on any meds and supports my decision so there.

BUT! I wouldn't suggest anyone else stay off thyroid meds, no sirree. You have no idea how anal I was, and I ahd the full support of my treating doctor as I weaned off mine. It took almost two years of dropping sometimes a single gram at a time, from an initial dose of 135 of those fuckers to finally none about...a month before Daniel was conceived. Which, yes, is probably a coincidence.

I should probably eat better too, as I sometimes wonder if my abysmal diet is the reason why my thyroid went kerplunken in the first place. I mean, if you don't eat enough for a LONG time, maybe your body adapts and slows everything down? I never asked a doctor this because I'm sure they'll make me eat more to test out my dumbass theory, which I simply am unable to do. Yes I gained weight, no, it doesn't mean I'm "fixed". It means that what was once a really awesome way of dealing with my angst and anxiety no longer exits. Which probably explains why I started having panic attacks and wicked cool anxiety about a month after I started eating food instead of air.


I could probably do with more rest too, to combat this roaring case of the blahs. I woke up at 9.30 yesterday, yuck, but after getting less than five hours the previous two nights in a row, I still hadn't reset my sleep pattern (which took only ONE late night on Friday to completely fuck it up) so still stayed up LIKE A FOOL watching dvds.

This sleeping in dealio is annoyinglio. Last weekend? When my little alarm clock (aka Mr Deebs) didn't wake me, we both slept until 10.30 (mon dieu!) on Saturday AND Sunday, which further totaled both our inner time keepers, so we were up until You're Kidding Me o clock each night which lead to sleeping in until ridiculous o clock the following day. I've been setting my alarm to go to work, but my stupid clock is still stuck on some other time zone.

Last weekend too, actually, Monday, we went to the zoo with Daniel's father and sister. We saw the sloth - who I identified completely with - but not for long as Tina was all whizzing here and there and trying to get us to see as much in the half hour we had left as possible. Meanwhile I was all wishing I could take a break and hang upside down by my toes from a tree branch too, because I didn't get to nap until 2.30, which is the time I woke Daniel up to prise his unco-operative jaws apart so as to fill his nutritional repository (aka his scream hole) with some food before heading off. When that didn't work, I strapped him into the car with a slice of bread and we to the zoo anyway, but by the time we got there, we had less than an hour to see all the depressed animals.

Then I got depressed at their sad faces, and this game of Happy Families kind of destroys me too because, people, I'm giving up half of my son.

Who was all "le yawn" at the lions and tigers and giraffes and shit, and practically flipped out at the sight of.....a pigeon.

He spent the rest of the afternoon showing his awesome belly button to his not so awesome father, and I spent the day trying not to cry at the thought of my baby trekking off, little suitcase in hand, for a weekend away from me. When that day comes, he'll have a blast, and I've decided already to stay at home and get maximally sauced.

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