Tuesday, March 28, 2006

Size does matter, and so does placement

You have to face the holes in the right direction.
Lesson learned.
I improvised today.
I had a short shopping list, and trekked off to Hellmart to "grab a few things". On the top of my list was printer paper. Staples was also nearby, so surely I would somehow manage to complete this task. $250 dollars and an overflowing cart later, my heavy trunk and I schlepped home sans paper. And then I went to The Boy's baseball game. Which ran into the early evening. When stores were closing. And I was not going back to 24/7 Hellmart. No way. I'm out of time and money. And I had an important print job I needed for tomorrow's lecture.
Out comes a pack of wide-ruled loose leaf notebook paper I must have been saving for an emergency such as this.
Will it work in the printer? Is it the right weight? Too much dust?
Turns out it does work. Looks like crap, but it is usable. 1/2" too narrow. And the feed is upside down and backwards. But, dammit, I have my notes.
I was off today, which means errands out the wazoo.
The map of my day: Take a left at Sucks Ass, proceed through WTF was I thinking, and merge with Eh. When you find yourself at the crossroads of Whatever and Homicide, turn around and go back home.
First stop: My regular rest-of-my-body-that-is-not-fucked-up doctor's office. Except this time, I do have a problem; tendonitis of my left elbow - and it.really.hurts. A whole bunch.
Silly me, I assumed a simple cortisone injection could be done in the office. (My previous doctor did them). Nay, nay; I must see a specialist. No xray, no prescription. Ice it. Try a heating pad. Eat Motrin by the handful. Keep wearing the AirCast. Continue what you've been doing to survive, and wait the month or so to get in to the ortho guy. Hence, I wasted a couple of hours for nothing. Nothing but a needless doctor bill. But she's thrilled my Prozac is still working. Ahem. And I've gained a sizeable amount of weight. Ahem.
Next: I stopped in at the eye doctor to choose my new frames, because I'm having my eye exam tomorrow (and won't have time to pick them out then). Note to self: I might be needing bifocals, shhhh, don't tell anyone. After an hour or two of trying on almost every frame they stock, my team of experts and I chose the least-dorky-looking pair.
Then: I dallied my way through the aforementioned store. I concentrated on groceries and household necessities, but had to take a side trip to clothing. It was there I glanced in the mirror. What in the name of all that is holy was I thinking when I chose that particular combination of clothing? Note to self: do not dress in the basement without double-checking your decision.
To top off my morning, I got the opportunity to learn about some neighborhood gossip, courtesy of the crazy bitch that lives next door. Note to self: when exiting the car, run, don't walk, into the house. Stop locking the door. Consider parking a block away and proceed to basement entrance in back. Pretend to be deaf and/or blind.
And did you know, they make birthday-cake-flavored ice cream? My day wasn't all bad.
Oh yeah, and I haven't even called Dr. Wonderful's office yet. Yesterday was w-a-y too busy for me to think about my magic eggs, and today, I just wasn't in the mood. Maybe tomorrow. The easter bunny won't be home for a couple of weeks yet anyway, so I can drag this out a while longer. I've been musing, though, about the definition of insanity... doing the same thing over and over, and expecting a different outcome...
Yup, I'm so there.

Sunday, March 26, 2006

I can't get no satisfaction

'cause I try, and I try, and I try, and I try....
I can't get no.... nuh nuh nuhnuh nuhnuh

What I want now is some ovary action.
Say that to yourself. Slowly. Quickly. Think about it.
Over reaction?
Yeah, that's what I need.

I did some homework. I consulted Dr. Google, that retired butler person, various medical sites and even some scholarly journals (peer-reviewed!). If I can locate at least one decent link to post here, I shall do so post-haste. I regretfully neglected to save anything in my favs.
The information I have gathered thusfar consists of this:
Sometimes, physicians DO jump right to the Clomid. (unsure why)
I can expect ovulation to occur about 5-8 days after the last pill. (which, if one were taking it on days 5-9 of a typical cycle (which I am not) correlates with potential ovulation around day 14ish)...
{insert laughtrack here}
Some sources cited variations of cd4-8 or 3-7 as clomid-commencement dates.
At any rate, I guess as with standard clomid protocol, I should do the nasty about 3 days after the last pill until we just can't take it anymore.
And then, I'll get my period about 3 weeks after the last pill.
Because it never works.

And yes, I am aware of how crazy all of this seems. I totally agree.
And yes, I am aware of the potential maladjustment syndrome my ovaries will exhibit.
And of course, I will be calling my doctors office with a newfound fervor - probably all week long because we do so enjoy phone tag.
There is no way I will waste money and grief on this 'treatment' until I am damn sure he isn't smoking crack.

AND, in a related story, trout season is approaching. The husband will be home for 3-4 days to partake in the festivities. Merry Fishmas.
Anyone care to guess what other activities I will engage him in? Ahhhh... death-march style sex...
Good times.

Fertility Math:
Start clomid on... April 8
Last dose will be... April 12
Sex... April 15-18
Magic egg will burst forth... April 17-20
Period by... May 3 (joke: or, due early January. HA!)


Friday, March 24, 2006

I feel the need, the need to bleed

So, uh, I don't need Provera.
Ok, so...
I should just start the Clomid, just like that.
And, my magic egg(s) will just pop out on what day?
When am I supposed to concentrate my efforts?
And my lining....
That big old fluffy bed of unshed endometrium...
It will, just, oh, I don't know, be all receptive and stuff?

Good thing this isn't an urgent matter. I come home at 6pm on a Friday with the most bizarre instructions on my answering machine. Take a pregnancy test and start the Clomid. You no longer need to take Provera first. He is aware that my last period was a million years ago. That's okay. Just make sure I'm not pregnant and let the hatching commence.
M-a-y-b-e there is some new protocol out there that I am oblivious to. I will spend the weekend gathering information, and will call the office on Monday.

Thursday, March 23, 2006

The Incredible Exploding Ovary

As I am nearing CD 80, I have called Dr. Wonderful's office to request assistance.
My previous attempt at posting this enlightening story included volumes of information regarding the assholes at his office. I shall now spare you the agony of reliving my frustration.
Suffice it to say that the individual to whom I spoke either:
a) does not comprehend the pathophysiology of polycystic ovaries; or
b) needs to be lashed mercilessly with rusty barbed wire while nude and tied to a red ant hill.
If I'm lucky, I'll get Provera. If I'm lucky AND stupid, I'll be getting the Provera/Clomid combo plate (which has never worked). Since I have a disposable income and loads of time to waste playing silly games, here's one you can join in with me:
Plan My Conception!
The rules are easy. First, you have to operate on the assumption that I can actually get pregnant again, with or without Clomid (which has never worked). Then, you try not to laugh when I playfully attempt to organize my cycle around my husband's weekend(s) home. Finally, once you've overcome the silly notions that 1) I might conceive and 2) I can control when this will occur, then - you're ready for the game set-up.
Take one lucky rabbits foot, place it into vat of holy water, and add eye of newt. Hopping on your left foot, turn around counter-clockwise while humming Inagodadavida in its entirety. Now, stick a fork in the toaster. Let me know how it works.
In other news...
I'm standing outside the other day, waiting for my left ovary to explode, when this chickypoo I work with saunters up to make small talk:
Sure are a lot of birds out.
They sure are fat.
Probably full of eggs.
It's too cold for them to be laying eggs, isn't it?
I don't know.
No, really, I think it's too cold.
It is pretty cold.
I bet they can't lay eggs until it warms up.
Hmmm. I'm sure nature knows what it's doing.
Wonder how long they need to stay in?
I don't know, I was absent on Avian Gestation Day.
I wonder what will happen to them.
Maybe the mother will sit on them to keep them warm... ??
I still think it's too cold.
You're right. It's too cold. So... um... how 'bout that road construction, huh?
Hey look, there's a rabbit.
I have a new car. The Boy has inherited the POS that has served me for several years. May it rest in peace(s).
I also have a new computer. I am still trying to install various software, components, and find the "any" key. I have yet to refill my 'favorites' folder, so I'm trying to locate my old haunts.
Happy Spring!


I wishwishwishwishwish that Bl0gger had a way of saving posts-in-progress, at least until you clear your browser.
Norton picked up a suspected threat while I was composing, shut down my internet connection, and left me empty-handed.
I'll try to finish my thoughts later.