You're not alone

Here's the 4th in a series in our local paper regarding Val Cole's journey through IVF. Unfortunately, there was no BFP for her. I'd like to thank her for opening up her life that way. I'm sure there are plenty of women out there who understand exactly how she feels and appreciate her sharing her experiences. She says: "I really thought with all the positive thoughts and energy surrounding me that this would work. I've accepted it, but right now I'm feeling like everything is pointless." Hello - can you relate? They also talk about another woman, who after horrific tragedy, went on to have a healthy child via IVF. Gotta give the readers some inspirational story, right? The article talks about donor eggs as well, which was proposed to us briefly as well. We talked about it but summarily rejected the idea for a variety of reasons, but sometimes I wonder..... Surely it would have been less financially and emotionally difficult as adoption. If I knew then what I know now, who knows? Who knows if it would have worked anyway?



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Talked to my girlfriend who had a cancerous tumour removed from her lymph nodes last week. She's tired but feeling much better and hopes to have a positive pathology report next week. My prayers are with her and I hope to see her soon.

It takes a village

I have to admit, I felt a little pang of the "what ifs", when I read this story in the local paper. http://www.canada.com/vancouversun/news/story.html?id=e4785a70-b6d3-4a6e-a834-d3198d78e019&p=1. It's called "It takes a village" and it follows the story of a woman pursuing fertility treatments at the latest fertility clinic to open in Vancouver. I was like, oh, I didn't get a plush robe, I want one of those. Why weren't they around when I was in "trenches"? At least the story doesn't make her sound like a crazy woman. She was just like the rest of us. Wanting to have a child by the man/partner she loves. Unlike the woman in story, I actually had great response with my follicles and had a lot of eggs for a "woman my age". Of course, that doesn't ensure a successful pregnancy. And I totally related to her optimism and hope. She's now going through her two week wait. Oh, I know how she feels. I wish the very best for her.

On another note, I'm feeling much better since I stopped taking the percocet. As with any codeine product, constipation is its companion, so I talked to a couple friends of mine, a pharmacist and a nurse's aide. I tentatively switched to ibuprofen/extra strength Tylenol and started drinking more water, prune juice and a couple of Senokots for good measure. Okay, and coffee. Yes, it truly does take a village to move some things.

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Third in a series on one woman's journey through 2 week wait. Also surrogacy in Canada.
http://www.canada.com/vancouversun/news/story.html?id=da59d1dd-fa58-4c54-bfb9-b9fe81bd28a2

Why did I do this again?

Hah! I kept my pretty pedicure! No one said a thing. It's all about looking good. And now for the bad news....

What kind of world is it when taking a percocet and Tylenol #3 doesn't work? For all those who wanted to know what a http://www.radiologyinfo.org/en/info.cfm?pg=ufe&bhcp=1 uterine artery embolization procedure was like, I'll be happy to tell you - it sucks. I was not in the precious group of women who do get pregnant through IVF, but I am in the small minority of women who do experience great pain and fever after this procedure. But I'll get to that in a moment.

A nurse told me that they would be giving me sedation during the procedure that would make me sleep. I was right to be a little doubtful about that because I was wide awake for the whole thing! And it lasted about 1 1/2 hrs. I chatted through a lot of it, but not when the radiologist was doing his thing. Somebody has to concentrate on what he's doing. It was only after the procedure that the pain set in. I hung in until the morphine drip kicked in. Bless the people who invented that. Now I know why people get hooked on it. It didn't make me high, it just took away the pain. And when I needed more, I pressed the magic button and it delivered a shot. However, it was programmed to only deliver a certain amount in any given time period so you couldn't overdose. I stayed overnight in a ward (didn't see much point for a private room since I wasn't planning on staying very long. (The wards here are free, but semi-private and private rooms are extra). That was a mistake in hindsight. We actually have insurance for semi-private rooms, but neglected to bring that info when I was went in for the procedure. When you are in a ward, you have nurses coming and going at all hours of the night, taking temperatures, and blood pressures with machines that go beep, beep beep and having loud conversations with patients who are suffering pain. Every time I feel asleep, either my nurse or someone else's would come by with more beeping machines. I have to say, though, they were all really great. I was well attended to.

The next morning, I was feeling pretty good, I was discharged but about half hour later at home, the pain come back with a vengeance. At one point, I was actually tripodding (as in limbs went rigid) and sobbing with pain. So much for chanting for no pain. I was ready to convert. Hubby was on the phone calling the nurse line and alternatively letting me squeeze his fingers while trying to keep me from hyperventilating. Jack Bauer (the character on 24 who undergoes torture without giving up the goods) would have been ashamed of me, because I would have turned in my whole family to get drugs that would actually work. By early evening, I had a fever so we went to emergency at another hospital, Vancouver General. They've had a lot of bad press in the past but let me tell you, I had the best care there. I got my morphine and in a private ER room! I sent Scott home around 11pm and I finally got a private room around 1:30am on the cardiac floor. I slept like a dream for hours until my IV bag ran out and the machine's alarm went off. Then I saw 2 gyn residents and my own gyn later this morning before I was discharged. Once again, fab nurses, great care and I went straight home and popped my medication. Apparently what I went through is quite "normal", it's called post fibroid syndrome. I don't know how they could call fever and unrelenting pain and nausea normal, but whatever. I guess my pain threshold is low, but I would have rather stayed in the hospital for one more day instead of weeping for mercy and swallowing percocet and T3s.

But my toes and my pudenda look fabulous! Glamour wins!

My crappy uterus

Once again, I'm going to be exposing my snatch to complete strangers. How's that for an opening line?

I'm having a UAE (uterine artery embolization) Monday morning. It requires a tube being inserted into my groin area to have plastic pellets block the arteries that feed the multiple fibroids in my uterus. So of course, I had my curlicues ripped out in the applicable areas as to present well. Didn't really want the nurses scraping away at my privates with a disposable razor. "Oh, my, it certainly has been a while since you trimmed this, eh, dear?" Well, yes, and a welcome break that was! As I've been sweating more than I ever thought was possible in far off places, taking a break from powder puff maintenance has spared me the agonies of ingrown hairs.

Did you know that you're not supposed to wear nail polish on your toes for surgical procedures? Well, I didn't. I lost 5.4 lbs over the past two weeks (okay, last week I was sick with cold and barking like an Arctic seal and I didn't work out. By the way, don't you hate when people come to the gym sick and hack and spew all over the place?), so I celebrated with a pedicure. A lovely frosty aubergine. Then I find out I may have to remove it. What if I feign ignorance? My fingernails are not done, can't they just check my colour on my fingertips? I'm not going under anaesthesia, just sedation. Rats! Gotta remember to bring some nail polish remover just in case.

Today, I had some friends over for an hour chant. It was lovely. I feel much more serene. You'd think that after all the procedures I've been through, this procedure would be a cakewalk for me, but frankly, I'm a little gun-shy with doctors. I'm about done with having medical personnel assess my bits and pieces. Come to think of it, I've never met this radiologist. I had the consult with his partner who, due to a vision problem, wasn't doing the procedure anymore. Pity. I'll always have nostalgia for that condescending, little ...... never mind. I'm all chilled out. I hope he has a good bedside manner anyway. And doesn't use the phrase, "women your age".

So as I'm sure you all understand, I've been cleaning, doing laundry, did the shopping, so I'm all set for a few days resting in my clean, semi-orderly house. The food is frozen, so hubby can cook something up with as little trouble as possible. I hope to be attending our first ballroom dancing class in a few days. Optimistic? Yeah, but it gives me something to shoot for.

Who am I?

I'm an actress and after many years of sacrifice, I had achieved a small modicum of success. And as long as I was booking gigs and making money in my chosen field, I could feel good about myself and who I was. I felt successful and powerful. And when I stopped booking gigs, my self esteem would quickly erode. I went from temp job to temp job, waiting for my big break. I wanted to be a more positive, well rounded person who could be happy and enjoy her life no matter what and when I became a Buddhist, the practice definitely uplifted my life and perspective on life.

Fast forward to the recent past when I was determined to become a mother in the usual fashion. And after the unfortunate outcome, I was once again face to face with the "who am I now?" question. So much time, so much sacrifice, so much expense (financial and emotional) had gone into the effort. My ultimate creative moment was a non-event. For years, I'd assumed I'd get married and have kids by the time I was 30 and be a series regular TV star. When I hit 30, I figured I just had to postpone things for a little longer. I had just started to figure out the kind of woman I wanted to be. And then I thought I'd never meet Mr. Right and almost settled for Mr. Wrong. And when I did meet Mr. Right, I really had to figure out how to make myself happy no matter what. I grew up a lot.

This whole infertility bag has taught me a lot about my ego. I've been thoroughly humbled. I doubted my faith, I doubted my ability to ever feel peace of mind again and I still struggle with how to reconcile my sense of femininity with the body I've been given in this life. This body that could carry my through a 10K race could not carry me through a pregnancy. Not that I'm an athlete in any sense of the world, but I've always been healthy and strong. I thought by doing all the right things and believing with all my heart, that giving birth to our child would only be a matter of time and persistence. I've always been the one that people come to nurturing and care. You know, the "mother" of the group. I confess I don't feel very feminine these days.

You know there's one thing that a Buddhist knows for sure - life isn't fair. It's how you react to life's challenges that counts. So aside from the emotional eating, a fibroidy uterus, and unemployment, I'm not doing too badly.

I'm off to a Buddhist conference in a few days, and I hope to come back spiritually refreshed and ready to deal with more paperwork and social workers.

Take my Fibroids, please!

I went to see a radiologist yesterday about fibroid embolization. I was lucky to even get the consultation as soon as I did. It's often really difficult to see a specialist in BC in less than 6 weeks. I had to have an ultrasound first and I drank the prerequisite 4 8oz. glass of water. Which was probably a mistake for me. There's a reason I don't drink a lot of water in a short amount of time. I bloat up like a whale and can't hold it. I can barely get through a 45 minute walk through the park with my dog. I was really uncomfortable during the procedure and by the time I was done, the technician was trying to explain something to me and give me some papers to fill out, I couldn't even hear her. I left and gingerly walked past the waiting room to the washroom. Holy crap!

Anyways, then I went to see the doctor to see what he had to say about my situation. He first asked if I had considered a hysterectomy. Why is it that doctors throw the word around like it's a panacea for a woman's troubles? I asked if he would like his balls removed. He laughed, but I hope he got my point. If I have a choice about whether to have major surgery that increases my chance of having an emergency hysterectomy or a non invasive procedure which has fewer risks, I'll take the latter, thank you very much. He did caution me that though I was a good candidate for the procedure, my bladder problems might not lessen. Women "my age" have those problems. Really. Hey, pass me the Depends please. My least favourite phrase, "a woman your age" was used as well. The next time I hear that phrase from a medical professional, I vow stop them mid sentence and warn them that it makes me hostile and prone to violence.

So I told him to put my name on the waiting list. Yes, that's right. Waiting list. Welcome to BC. Could be waiting 4 months. Then I went for another pee. I betcha the surgery list is shorter. Mmmm. We'll see. And another pee.