Item – I am still FAR TOO CROSS to compose a dignified, graceful, tactful email to HR Minion of Shame about the inadvisability of comparing IVF to ‘a cosmetic procedure’. We’ll see how calm and Emily Post I am feeling tomorrow.
Item – I am extremely grateful for the outbreak of outrage in the comments on my previous post. Thank you! Exactly!
Item – Back to Riverside this morning for another scan, stab and consult. For some reason they were somewhat constipated and I was there from 10:00 to 11:45, which seems a tad excessive, despite all the free tea, coffee, hot chocolate and water you can drink and hot-and-cold running orchids in every room.
Item – So ÜberScanningLady and I peered at my uterus, admired the plumpening lining, and then peered at Satsuma, who had taken something to heart (75 extra units of Gonal-F a night, I should think) and had 29 visible follicles. They were all, however, quite tiny, one being 10mm, four more being about 8 or 9mm, and the rest under 5mmm. Which all gave rise to a series of circular conversations, first with ÜberScanningLady and then with the nurse, along the lines of ‘well, 29 follicles is quite a few, but they’re all quite small, especially considering your oestrogen level, which is nice and high, and your AMH, but then there are 29 of them, which is good, but they are small, really, but on the other hand, 29… Let me go and ask Dr George…’
Item – Upshot, eventually, stay on 225 units of Gonal-F a night, and start Cetrotide (Cetrorelix) tonight! W00t! Or something!
Item – And then I went to work, and did a late shift, and have come home in a state of mind best described as ‘bloody’, as all the colleagues I had to deal with decided today was a good day to be needy, whiny, vague, and tiresome. Yes! Of course I’m interested in your kitchen sink leak! And the argument you had with your boss! Tell me more! Please! Or at least have the grace to turn up for your shift on time! Arse! Feck! Girls! Booze!
Item – H and I lined up the New Improved Chemistry Experiment kit on the kitchen table, and I did the Gonal-F shot first, as that’s easy. And then I read and re-read the Cetrotide instructions, and felt stirrings of panic and gloom. Uncap the vial of powder. Wipe the top of the vial with the provided alcohol swab. Take the cap off the syringe filled with sterile water. Screw on the big needle. Uncap the big needle (cripes, it’s huge) and stick it through the rubber top of the vial. Squeeze the water into the vial (surprisingly fiddly, and made me feel I was made of slippery thumbs). Gently ‘swirl’ the water about in the vial, this with the syringe still sticking out the top, how did I not drop the sodding lot? Panic a little at the undissolved lumps, realise they have dissolved. Try to suck all the medication out of the vial, fuck it up, and end up with an air-bubble the size of an olive (and now I want a martini). Recap and unscrew the big needle and replace it with the little needle. This step is very important. Point the needle skywards, flick the syringe to encourage the monster air-bubble to the top, and squeeze the plunger, slowly and carefully, until a tiny bead of liquid appears at the needle’s tip, indicating all the air is gone, or, if you prefer and are still having eighteen slippery thumbs, until a jet of the horribly expensive medication sprays out and you feel like a total pillock. Now select a portion of tummy to victimise, and wipe it with the other alcohol swab. Insert the needle, which isn’t actually all that bad, and slowly (I’ve been warned) depress the plunger (I told it all about Matt Smith leaving Doctor Who. Boom tish).
Item – When I pulled the needle out, there was a drop of blood, and that was it. Huh, I thought, no biggie. And then three minutes later someone unceremoniously jammed a handful of nettles down my jeans. This stuff stings like a bitch. I have an actual hive. Eventually I whined so much H brought me an ice-pack, which helped, but Holy Mary Mother of God, every night? For over a week?
Item – Tomorrow morning I start the Prednisolone. And may God have mercy on our souls.