Wednesday, November 19, 2008

*waves roll on beaches*

Honestly, this getting up at dawn thing is getting (getting? How about IS?) to be such a drag. And really, none of it is for anything exciting, what with my dumbass ovaries being stuck in Wot? You Want Me To Do Wot? land.

Gonal-F bla bla, and nightly Orgalutran shots have been pushed (I wish I was lying but I. Shit. You. Not. PUSHED. Like, with a drinking straw. Organon, wtf?) into my cushy belly fat pad since Satruday night. Results to date are: two follicles on one ovary, and two on the other. On one side, don't ask me which because I know I know but despite my open eyes and my faux alert state, my brain is all "I'm sleeping here, and you want data retrieval?", two follicles aren't dragging their metaphorical asses, while on the other side, they are, and those ass draggers are the reason behind the ultrasound every fucking morning this week.

The unit want at least three follicles greater than (random number my brain is dismissively waving its hand at) millimeters before triggering and a subsequent retrieval, and I've got two that are dancing on the table and ready to roll, and one that still needs another beer. The last one is hiding behind bowel, which I think is code for "bowel full of shit" because, holy crap (or NOT) one of these drugs is preventing regular bodily functions ifyouknowwhatImeandndIthinkyoudo.

Unsavory sidebar: so I took one (1) biscodyl the other night and.....nothing. So I took TWO (2!) last night and, yes. Whoa. There's this one doctor, Dr Lumbrusco, who ALWAYS dramatically sighs and informs the room he can't see anything what with all the BOWEL in the way. If it's him this morning and if he goes into his Too Much Bowel, Woe, routine, I'm gonna hit him with Blue Steel and telling him to look harder, buddy, because one of us is full of shit and I know for a FACT it ain't me.


The good news in re this whole Only Two Interesting Follicles situation (it's probably ALL good news but with the incessant 6am rising and the associated and ongoing sleep deprivation, you could call me and tell me I'd won the lottery and I'd be all "FUCKIT, now I've got to go to the frikkin' bank too, AARGH")(especially as per one of the nurses who isn't a walking buzzkill, who says less follicles may produce better percentages than large numbers of them)(please see last cycles strike rate of eleven eggs, a paltry five fertilising, and two excellent quality ones, and one that was so ho-hum that it only just squeaked in to being worth freezing) is that things are progressing nicely, albeit a squeak slower than lat time.

Sooooo, another (motherfucking) ultrasound this morning, then some random doctor who is hopefully not bowel boy, will decide what to do based on those findings. Hopefully (ohgodplease) it'll be the trigger shot tonight and an egg retrieval Friday morning. If not, I've got to wait until Saturday top trigger with the retrieval on Monday because OF COURSE my ovaries are all using the weekend to Piss. Me. OFF.

Because, anticipation aside, do you have any idea how challenging it is to organise childcare for some random date not that far in the future? Answer? VERY.

and how much of a DRAG am I lately? Answer? VERY. God, you'd think I was depressed or something.

Hey, check me. I'm LATE.

See ya.

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