IVF by the riverside April 30, 2013

Not starting LIT until June wasn’t how we had thought how this year would progress on seeing Dr 4th Opinion in January. We had, perhaps naïvely, thought if we start treatment in March then we would try ‘naturally’ for three months before embarking on the IVF journey. In light of the June curveball this has had to be reassessed. Plan B is going straight to IVF, so my mission was to sort out which clinic and how it needs to fit in timing-wise. Back to phoning and emailing ditsy secretary…

I finally got to speak to Dr 4th opinion the week before last (he had been on holiday the previous week) about IVF clinic recommendations, i.e which ones he’s worked with previously and could cope with LIT parallel running. Armed with his recommendation I braced myself for a new cohort of administrators to play telephone tag with. To my surprise initial enquiries were dealt with promptly and pretty efficiently. Their open evenings for April were fully booked, however I was offered an informal tour by a patient liaison representative last week.

May, unfortunately, was what we are now delightfully describing as NSFW, so I had to go it alone and take notes. The clinic is in a hospital picturesquely set alongside the river. Much to May’s amusement I was referred to as Mr May (as it were) rather than my own surname. The tour was fairly brief with lots of facts and figures about how many thousands of transfers they do a year, how many waiting rooms, scanners, treatment rooms and facilities they had, and how all their consultants are considered equal (50:50 male/female ratio too) – but we must feel free to ask for any of them specifically for whatever (ungiven) reason if we desire. It was clean and clinical, but not unfriendly. I encountered a nurse and a consultant on my tour, as I was shown different types of room, who both smiled and seemed genuinely friendly.

I was told that as soon as we’ve had our initial consultation there is a free counselling service that we can use as much as we need (only mandatory if we’re donating or receiving donated gametes). If (their emphasis) IVF is the right treatment for us then we will be given everything we need including sharps box alcohol wipes and a free session with a nurse to go through the whole pack to explain the whole treatment cycle schedule.

The only thing which is not done in the clinic itself is egg collection, because of the sedation and recovery facilities required. This is done in theatre downstairs and with wards upstairs for recovery.

The best piece if information was that there isn’t a waiting list. As soon as one their consultants gives the go ahead, treatment can start. There are a number of blood tests that will be required though. May asked me to check whether they would accept previous test results. I was reassured that they are, in principal, against unnecessary testing, but reading the paperwork it seems quite a few tests need to be within the last 3 months – so it looks like there will be a battery of needles, probes and deposits.

On departure I was given a price list (yikes – but we have savings and offers of help) and a full contact sheet with names, phone numbers and email addresses of all the staff in the clinic – another sign that they are genuinely wanting to be approachable.

Onwards and onwards…

Not forgotten November 25, 2012

Very sorry, it’s been a terribly busy week and I have a very early start tomorrow morning.

So, this is just an IOU post.

Bear with, bear with… (which will only make sense to middle-class UK folks who watch a certain comedy show, sorry).

Busy week November 18, 2012

That’s my excuse…

Completely not thought about what I would write this week. When sitting down to do so this evening I did have one idea and started on my merry way  writing about inspiration and motivation and then had a vague sensation that I’d written something about this topic before… That’s fine, I thought, I can link to it… Found the post in the archives and realised that covered all I was going to say and more… not a bad post actually, don’t think I’d have written it as well this evening.

So, I resorted to hunting around for a meme I hadn’t done and found this one:

1. Where is your cell phone? Plugged in getting charged for the week ahead (well the 2 days it usually lasts)
2. Where is your significant other? In the other room NaNoWriMo-ing
3. Your hair color? Blonde – always has been.
4. Your mother? Artistic, but has never really let herself explore her talents.
5. Your father? Musical. Busy.
6. Your favorite thing? Tough one – love my iPhone & iPad, but the thing I hate to leave the house without and would dash back in to save (assuming May is already safe) from the hypothetical inferno is the ring May gave me for our 6th anniversary.
7. Your dream last night? I rarely remember my dreams, if I do they are usually rather strange
8. Your dream/goal? Largish house somewhere close enough to civilisation for good broadband, but far enough away from the hubbub for peace and quite.
9.The room you’re in? Study/spare room, rather cluttered with domestic appliance boxes and work shirts that need ironing.
10. Your hobby? A year ago I would have said photography in a flash (hahaha, sorry), but I’ve lost my imaging inspiration; so for now I’ll stick with singing, as I seem to be involved in three choirs at the moment.
11. Your fear? Losing control; no idea what of – and as others have pointed out it’s all an illusion anyway. It’s under active discussion with my therapist anyway.
12. Where do you want to be in six years? That house would be nice…
13. Where were you last night? Out singing in a concert, sorry I cannot be more specific.
14. What you’re not? Out of work (which I could easily be at the moment)
15. One of your wish list items? Benda Bilili DVD
16. Where you grew up? Dorset.
17. The last thing you did? Wrote the word ‘Dorset’… caught up with the first episode of season two of the BBC drama ‘The Hour’
18. What are you wearing? Wedding ring, hair elastic, purple t-shirt, dark grey sweatshirt, light-blue briefs, black tracksuit bottoms and purple slippers.
19. Your T.V.? 32″ Samsung LED, a great investment – has lasted well and is just the right size for our place.
20. Your pets? A de Broglie–Bohm kitten
22. Your mood? Somewhere between Meh and OK
23. Missing someone? Grandfather who died earlier this year.
24. Your car? Hired when we need it… if we move out of town and had to get one, then I would very, very seriously consider electric.
25. Something you’re not wearing? A watch. Haven’t owned one for years.
26. Favorite store? Apple
27. Your Summer? Too brief
28. Love someone? Very much.
29. Your favorite color? Blue or purple.
30. Last time you laughed? Listened to The Bugle earlier
31. Last time you cried? Children in Need – yes, they extracted money from my wallet

The roller coaster of IVF November 11, 2012

To date I have not been overly keen on, if not in reality actually more against, IVF (for me personally, I hasten to add – this is not a moral or technically principled qualm).

As the weeks and months of TTC have merged into years, however, I think this needs reevaluating. Firstly, we now know a lot more about what we are dealing with/are up against. Secondly, we are seriously starting to run out of time (why yes, it is my birthday in a couple of weeks – how could you tell).

So, you may well ask: what were my problems with IVF in the first place?

One of my biggest fears has been the perceived risk/danger. As May only has one ovary remaining, if something goes wrong with that (ovarian hyper-stimulation syndrome, for example) then it really could be game over. I had/have the impression, possibly unfairly, that especially within the NHS IVF is not a well-invested-in process and therefore may lack the individual care, attention and precision to reassure me. I think I’m justified in stating that their attitude, when we did get to the first step of consideration for treatment, seemed to be a very rule-based, “same for everyone because we must be fair to everyone on very limited resources” approach. I had/have also witnessed that, while the NHS is a fantastic service for dealing with the majority of everything, it didn’t/doesn’t handle edge-cases, such as May, very well. These factors combined all played into my fears.

I think we are in a very different place now. We’ve run the NHS gamut as much as we can; therefore if we go private now it would not compromise how we may be treated on the NHS, which I’ve heard can not be overly helpful to patients who are also doing parallel private treatment (for I think perfectly understandable/reasonable overall cost effectiveness reasons). We have been saving over the last few years and combined with offers from May’s mum to help with costs plus age and other complicating factors I think private is our only realistic option now anyway. I have the impression, possibly unfounded, that a private clinic will do things absolutely on an individual basis and take care (for fear of harm to reputation – and therefore profits – if nothing else).

So that’s the rational reason; the more psychological block is about the process itself and what that means about my role in fatherhood. This is more difficult to articulate, partly because I have problems identifying and dealing with the emotions surrounding issues (see previous post), but also because it goes against my self-image of me not being a chest-beating, self-important, prowess-obsessed bloke… it’s not me making the baby. I do know enough biology to know it never would be me really anyway, but the micro-details of what happens in utero can be easily brushed over when people think about these things. There is still an overall conception (haha, sorry) of those brave ‘boys’ swimming the tough swim, healthy competition, fittest wins, etc. that provides the ‘natural way’ of these things in the minds of the world. Yes, this is a perception thing as much as anything else. To take that process out of that environment and have an artificial laboratory induced, ‘test-tube’ event – under the harsh lights of scientific judgement and evaluation – doesn’t have that same narrative or acceptable ‘normality’.

Finally, there is another psychological trope that plays into this. Over the last few years, and particularly in psychotherapy recently, I have had to get used to the idea that, as much as I try to deny it, I am a very controlling person. Those that know me may (or may not) be surprised that the gentle, unassuming, introverted soul that I am has this trait. But I can assure you that apparently (I’m still coming to terms with this) I have a strong and wilful mind that has an unfortunate (possibly sometimes unconscious) habit of using passive-aggressive techniques to influence and control. The thing is, the thing about IVF is, that it takes everything out of my control. The same is largely true for May, of course, but this post is about me, all me. Before knowing and understanding this and therefore being able to cede controls and make the choice there was a ‘thing’ at the back of my mind nagging away at this isn’t what I really want to, if not more strongly saying no!

Now we understand that and we are where we are, it’s time to make a positive choice and work for a positive outcome and say… YES!

Talking November 4, 2012

I’ve been doing a lot of talking recently, mainly at my counselling sessions. What have I learnt?

Philip Larkin was (almost) right… A lot of the conversation has been about my parents (plus their siblings/family and my grandparents). In particular what their behaviours and interactions were when I was growing up and therefore what role modelling I have been subjected to. The layers of generations and layers of psychological fucktitude that I have inherited.

I have found it particularly enlightening, because I was rather under the impression that I had rather an uneventful, benign childhood – I wasn’t abused or deprived. Yes, there were certain members of the family that were difficult from time to time, but I never felt directly unwanted or unwelcome. And yet…

It seems that there are a lot of subtle things happening all around in the interplay of family members that one doesn’t really understand as a child but some of these seem to get taken on board and shape attitudes and behaviours in unexpected ways. So, for example, my mother could be slightly uncomfortably clingy and overly affectionate when I was a teenager – which I found embarrassing and awkward and therefore pushed back. If I thought about it at all I had just thought it might be her not wanting to accept eldest child growing up growing away and reacting to that. However, I can now see another possible reason for her clinginess was perhaps something lacking in her relationship with my father, which was being subverted. My father being, like me, not particularly emotionally literate or aware his actions were distancing, leaving my mother rather looking for affection elsewhere. So I had not only the poor role model of my dad’s distancing emotional behaviour, but also developed a resistance to being emotionally pushed.

There are two main things that I’m working on at the moment in relation to all this. Firstly, is that I don’t give myself space to think about these things. At work I’m busy on work stuff, at home I distract myself with web and TV, and on my commutes I like listening to podcasts. So, one thing we’re trying chez nous at the moment is an evening per week free of TV and internet. It’s only been a couple of weeks, so far – so possibly too early to assess any beneficial effect.

Secondly, the realisation that I’ve never really had to work hard at things or been forced to practise stuff. Nobody made me do my musical instrument practising as a child, I found exams at 16 a bit of a breeze (to get relatively good grades), A-levels similarly not difficult study-wise. University was a huge step up and I struggled a bit there, but manage to scrape through without too much effort.

I’ve been relatively fortunate career-wise with a few lucky breaks and only one sticky patch without work (which May would attest left me rather bereft). I’ve also usually been able to do the things I enjoy at work and not so much of the things I didn’t like/have an aptitude for (again there was a time when I really hated my boss/job for a while and again May will tell you how I was completely incapable of dealing with it – however, luckily again, I was able to find a sidestep out of it so I didn’t have to really ever deal with it properly). Likewise my family and relations didn’t seem to put much effort in to practising anything really. So, when May says to me ‘yes, emotions are difficult – you need to practise expressing/acknowledging/dealing with them’ I have no frame of reference as to what that means or what to do.

This of course spills over uncomfortably into working at relationships and of course working at trying to have a child… it hasn’t been easy and I’ve certainly not been prepared for the hard work and persistence, which has, of course, upset May on occasions when I’ve been lagging.

I realise that it’s only ‘half the battle’ to identify some causes – finding how and fixing is not going to be any easier, especially if I have to work at it…

I KNEW I had a blog somewhere round here… August 17, 2012

I think I was using the Olympics as an opiate. H and I watched as much of it as our respective work-schedules allowed, on television, on the BBC’s iPlayer when the particular events we liked were not being shown or had happened during the working day or the other of us didn’t care for it (archery, synchronised swimming (don’t laugh!), horse dancing (I like horses (H doesn’t)), diving heats (I like strapping young men in tight speedos (H doesn’t (but he did care who won the finals)), beach volleyball (don’t ask)). We leapt to our feet and screamed right there in our living room when Mo Farah won the 10’000 and the 5’000. We would’ve leapt to our feet and screamed when Bolt Did His Thing, but we didn’t have time to. We cheered Wiggins and Ennis and Grainger and Watkins and Pendleton and the Brownlees. We cheered Felix and Rudisha and Lysenko and Gelana. I wept with every athlete who wept on the podium. I bawled over the triumph-over-tragedy stories of Daley and Gibbons. And when someone fell, or false-started, or pulled a muscle and couldn’t run/jump/swim/dive, or got up anyway and tried to carry on, or just had the crappest luck, I also cried. I cried over Asafa Powell, FFS. When H and I went to see the marathon live on Sunday (which was just! So! Exciting! that I literally (as in really, yes I did, and I’m not exaggerating) skipped most of the way home)), I welled up at the sight of the last runner in the field limping bloody-mindedly along just in front of the sweeper van. And then when we watched it again on telly, I welled up for Stephen Kiprotich and his unique Ugandan gold medal.

And then it was all over, and we all feel completely deflated, also all alone with our anxieties and problems and their horrible little teeth. Oh dear.

H, for example, has been having kittens about our baby-making options. All these tests we’ve had – whatever the verdict is, it seems so very, well, huge, and possibly final, and descending with a clang, like a portcullis, also expensive and complicated (expensive portcullis!). And he wants a child. Which would all be quite enough to be getting on with thank you, but his job is not being any more easy to deal with, and nor is his wife. He comes home every night and tears his hair out, and then I complain that I have a pain in my sawdust, that’s what’s the matter with me, and he tears his hair out, and we talk about money and how many cycles we’re prepared to do with what medications and he tears his hair out, and then he goes back to work and finds Another Fine Mess to sweep up and tears his hair out and when he is finally spear-bald, to whom do we present the bill, oh Universe?

In which fine state of mind H – oh, and I – went back to Dr Expensive on Thursday to Hear The Verdict. And The Verdict made our heads ache. The short-and-curly version (I promise you a long-and-straightened version in the near future. You may nag me about it. You’re welcome) is, Dr Expensive wants me on Metformin, steroids, progesterone support, Clexane and intralipids; he wants H on multi-vitamins and anti-oxidants; he wants both of us on a ten-day course of Augmentin; he wants to do a uterine biopsy, this cycle if possible (EEK! And again I say, EEK!) ; and he wants us to do LIT. On the other hand, he doesn’t see why we need IVF. At all. Timed bonking will be fine.

Do pass that dustpan, there’s a lamb. Just writing it down made my head explode again.

But fear not! We have tickets for the Paralympics! In less than two weeks, it all starts up again, with even more added and extra poignancy and heroism, and I fully expect to jump up and down and skip and weep and scream encouragement and just generally let myself be completely blown away by it all all over again while pretending that my uterus doesn’t even exist for as long as she’ll let me get away with it. We don’t do Olympian cynicism chez May. Which is unexpected, but welcome.

Tales of woe July 15, 2012

We have… well ‘news’ sounds far too exciting… ‘results’ sounds too hopeful… ‘a shit-storm of wtf, I told you sos and up yours NHS’ probably encapsulates it.

We are both in a bit of shell-shock I think. May doesn’t want to get angry again, so has asked me to step up to the mark and write a post although she has given me some of her draft rantings to draw on. Let me start by describing the context of our lives this stuff has landed… May reports:

“Work is stupid and full of stupid people and I don’t like it. I actually reported a colleague to their line-manager the other day, for being an incompetent fuck-wit whose work I was just about that sick of redoing for them (this is, of course, a situation that has been going on for over a year. Rage). I then spent hours sorting out a hideous mess of misfiling and laziness, and had to file another complaint about protocols being ignored. Then I found out I am The Subject Of Gossip in the tea-room, with camps dividing into those who are convinced I’m pregnant, and those who think I have cancer. Then a superior entity told me off for not doing something, and when I said plaintively that no one had told me about it, she pointed out she’d announced it at the meeting. The meeting I was off sick for, did she mean? Yes! Well, I was off sick, and she hadn’t circulated the minutes yet (two weeks later. Hmph). Nevertheless, I should have known, and I needed to go and do it, and bugger everything else in my in-tray, because I should have scheduled the time to do this thing I had no way of knowing I was supposed to be doing. Worst of all, I defended a colleague’s decision to a student, even though I was a bit uneasy about this at the time as I thought she was being ridiculously draconian. I double-checked today, and I realised she was not merely being a jobsworth but had actively screwed up and then not been honest with me in order to elicit my support. I so very much wish now I’d gone with my first instinct of cheerfully telling her not to be such a whistle-dick and to do as the student asked.”

While May is in a “work-induced state of advanced temper”, I, H the implacable, have also been pissed on from on high at work. The Big Project I have spent months working on, has been summarily shelved, and I have been presented with a whole new Big Project with entirely different software and parameters and skill-sets and told, basically, to lump it. Not only that, but show leadership for my team and be enthusiastic for this new Big Project and take charge (even though it’s being run outside of my control) and make sure it succeeds… It’s been a couple of weeks of mayhem and personal anguish as I started to see the project crumble around the edges as if on a cliff overhang, but powerless to stop it then plunge into the ravine.

Meanwhile, my counsellor has gone on holiday for a few weeks, just as I thought I was getting somewhere. May and I have therefore been needling and sulking and bitching and snapping and getting on each other’s tits in a rather distressing manner.

May puts it better than I ever could:

This is H and May, people! Star couple and all-around loved-up snuggle-bunnies of the decade! And I’m all ‘Take your Goddamn issues to the counsellor, because I am stressed to death here and I have no patience with you or anyone or anything!’ and H is all ‘You’re stressed? What am I, chopped liver? And, you may remember, the counsellor is on sodding holiday,’ and I’m all ‘cry me a river’ and he’s all ‘eat my shorts.’ Our sex-life is parlous. Funny that.

In which mood, I had to slink back to the wankatorium, so they could do DNA fragmentation test, with May in the back-ground wailing:

‘but we haven’t had sex for days! And now we can’t for days! I’m going to ovulate to spite you, so there’. Which helped. Even more so as we weren’t going to worry about conceiving until we’d got all our test results back and spoken to Dr Expensive again, so I am being so exceedingly rational and not in the least bit deranged-harpy-on-hormones.

I was shown to a different room this time and dared to hope that my in-laws wouldn’t be looking over my shoulder this time. Alas, while the picture was different it was definitely of the same area – I had the wherewithal to take a picture on my phone this time to show May – I think she was shocked how like their landscape of abode it was, but still laughed [Because I am a cow - May]. A new set of magazines to peruse – and with May not sitting in the waiting room upstairs I felt slightly more relaxed about having a look. It was going fine until I encountered two pages stuck together, which made me rapidly cast it all aside and go and wash my hands again and start from scratch.

I also managed to get an envelope of results so far from Dr Expensive’s clinic when I picked up my referral form… our blood was actually shipped off to Chicago for the testing (not sure what to put on the entry form for the ‘have you been to any part of the USA previously’ type question… ‘part of me has’ may get an interesting response), to whit (for reminders what these are see May’s details wot she wrote):

Item: No STDs (yay/*yawn*)

Item: TH1:TH2 intracellular cytokine ratios TNF-a 26.6 (good range 13.2 – 30.6) IFN-g 16.8 (good range 5.8 – 20.5) big tick next to the figures, so assume that’s OK. However, it’s at the high end and they have a tendency to increase, so would need to be monitored (expensive).

Item: DQ Alpha Genotype – May: 0201,0301; H: 0102,0201 – so we have a 25% chance of embryo looking like May’s DNA to her antibodies and therefore being confused for a possible unwanted cancer or something and attacked. This is probably quite common and shouldn’t be a problem in its own right, but this could also be a factor in other test results and also, as May said, causing increasing sensitivity issues.

Item: NK Assay (% Killed) Panel
These should be below 15%:
50:1:  14.6% – this is borderline, but it does come down with IVIG and ILs (see NK assay with Intralipid, below).
25:1:  8.8%
12.5:1:  4.5%
IgG conc 12.5 50:1:  8.1%
IgG conc 12.5 25:1:  8.0%
IgG conc 6.25 50:1:  11.3%
IgG conc 6.25 25:1:  8.1%

% CD3:  83.9% (should be between 60% and 85%)
% CD19:  7.1% (should be between 2% and 12%)
% CD56:  8.6% (ditto)
% of CD19+cells, CD5+:  14.1% * – this should be below 10%, so is starting to point to auto-immune issues *eye-rolls all round* May’s family is rife with auto-immune issues, so not surprising.

NK assay w/Intralipid:
50:1 w/Intralipid 1.5 mg/ml:  10.3% – someone drew a large arrow pointing at this number on the print-out. As you can see, intralipid treatment lowers the NK kill rate, which I think is a Good Thing?.
25:1: w/Intralipid 1.5 mg/ml:  5.4%

Item: Leukocyte Antibody Detection
Flowcytometry:  Negative
[T-cells] IgM+:  1.0%
[T-cells] IgG+:  17.2%
[B-cells] IgM+:  53.8%
[B-cells] IgG+:  19.0%

Here is the kicker – these should be above 30%, preferably above 50%. With so many low figures (although the first two are less important the most important is the last) it looks like the Leukocyte Immunization Therapy (LIT) will be order of the day, controversial and expensive we are.

So, in summary it looks like May and H are a little too familiar and friendly, our embryos are so loved and familiar they’re squished out of existence [We shall have to call the next embryo 'George' - May] and May’s system is getting more and more sensitive to the ‘tricksy’ little things. So I said:”Your immune system is just like you, argumentative and hot tempered.” To which May retorted: “Well, even your sperm are fucking passive aggressive!”

Conclusion: a microcosm of our relationship plays out in May’s uterus every month.

And then we laughed like drains, and I made cocktails.

Where does this leave us? Adrift at the moment, not really sure what to make of it all. My instinct, of course, is to run away. We’re still waiting for thyroid and DNA fragmentation before going back to see Dr Expensive. If you see two dazed people looking marooned, crestfallen, slightly bitter then approach carefully, they have been known to snarl.

On Sidling May 7, 2012

It has been suggested that sidling is an ineluctable trait of men. So, do I even need to change?

May will have to accept that I’ll never be amazingly empathic or good at understanding people and their emotions, but should she just take me as I am – infuriating (to her) habits and all? It would certainly be easier* to not make an effort and just try and get on.

This post attempts to set out my feelings as to why I don’t think this will really do – in doing so I’ll reveal a bit of my life story to explain the context  of my behaviours and where I’ve come from to be in this situation.

May is already unhappy because of the craptitude the universe has thrown at her. My role, as a spouse, should not be add to her burdens by making her unhappy with me too, but to comfort and support where I can. I also feel this is an important part of my identity. It’s scary and difficult having the sort of person I think I am pointed out to be failing to live up to that, but it leaves me a clear choice: accept I’m not a supporting and caring person or become one.

I said in my last post that I have a problem with strong emotions and a reason why. However, I think I need to learn not to react with fear and self-stifling when they occur – just because they are strong doesn’t mean that they are extreme. This I’m hoping will be dealt with by some counselling, which I must confess I have still to arrange.

The other big issue is difficulty letting go and dealing with the other main ‘self identity’ I’ve had since childhood around what constitutes success in life. As a teen I planned by the time I was 35 to have a highly-paid job, own a house and sports car (impractical, I know), have a wife, family, etc. sort of ‘on way to be a millionaire’ type plans. While this is probably common in teenage boys, I think I took it probably a bit too seriously in my binary sort way. Careers advice centered around pay and not really what I would find interesting; luckily there were promising looking ones that I had the skills for – actuarial for example. This was re-affirmed when I got a very good A level exam results in stats – it wasn’t until well into my university course I realised how much I hated stats… bit of a blow. Second blow was not quite getting the degree mark I thought I ought to be able to (this also unfortunately meant that when May didn’t either I wasn’t as supportive and sympathetic as I should have been, probably still being slightly bitter). Third blow was not getting onto the bank graduate scheme – joining a bank on a guaranteed generous income and fast track to management (because of degree mark, I think).

So, I moped out of university into life. May was finishing her degree and actually getting to spend a year abroad**, while I had to pick up temp jobs and then enrolled onto a university sponsored ‘business course’, which I didn’t really enjoy. It was all very humiliating. I eventually found a proper job, very entry level – but at least in a tech industry I enjoyed. Fast forward a couple of years, just when all seemed to be going well (second job by now), a management change above me meant I was forced to apply for my own job – and obviously failed to get it because I was ‘tainted’ by previous management. This fourth and probably biggest blow (to me) meant that May and I had to give up the flat we had moved into together just a few months earlier (don’t miss the flat, but it was the principle of independence). May’s mum and dad extremely kindly offered accommodation within reach of the big city, but it took me six months to secure another job (I think stretching their generosity a little – there were a couple of comments towards the end of our stay – although May’s siblings have since made that look like the briefest of inconvenience). During this time I felt a complete and utter failure and once again humiliated. I was unable to support May in any way because I was stuck in my own misery – just at a crucial time for May, when with her PhD was going pear-shaped.

When I got a job we moved back in together into a flat in the big city. May’s PhD collapsed (through no fault of her own – I squarely blame the tutors) and left her bereft as I was enjoying the excitement of a new job – leaving her rather abandoned (again). We muddled on and I kept on reassuring May that I was happy to support her while she sorted her life out – however, that didn’t seem to happen. May got into to a very depressed state – to a worrying degree (which causes problems now – causing me to be scared of encouraging her giving up her job even though it is really annoying). We did, however, manage to get married during this time – so I carried on supporting May financially. We then started TTC, but in quite a casual way, I certainly wanted kids (and still do), but was in no rush as my plan meant we should really buy a house first. May did get a job (part-time initially), but unfortunately I think this just made my child-hood ambitions kick in again – perhaps we could get on the housing ladder after all, perhaps I could make this work out. So when another part-time opportunity came up at May’s work I persuaded her hard to take it too (me being controlling – a trait I have only just come to acknowledge recently). I supported her through her second post-grad degree and the miscarriage – but this was purely in a practical way, rather than emotional support (seeing the pattern yet?).

It wasn’t quite enough though – despite our joint incomes we were about five years too late to get something affordable in the big city… the housing market in the UK in the last ten year has just been crazy-stupid and I certainly can’t blame that on May, but I still have a feeling of what if/if only… for example, if May had got a job too rather than letting the ill-fated PhD peter out – would this have made a difference? This is not something I’ve consciously considered until now, but I wonder if subconsciously it’s been unfairly festering. I think it chimes with something May said the other day about me holding our relationship to ransom over this “ideal” (quite materialistic one, which May doesn’t really share) of how my (our?) lives should pan out. It really isn’t helpful and needs to change – as I said I need to let go, accept it didn’t happen like the unrealistic grand plan/pipe-dream and appreciate and enjoy what I do have.

So, this brings us up to the start of this Nutsinmay blog. The RPL has been tough, no doubt, but as we were talking about it last night – I have managed to let go. That is easier for me I’m sure, not going through the physical symptoms – but it did lead to May feeling abandoned (again) for a while as I barreled along with the rest of life. We have since come to a better mutual understanding of where we are on this issue, but I think for a time while I was happy to give May the space to grieve I had sort of gone through that very quickly and therefore wasn’t an emotionally supportive as I could have been.

Where does this leave us/me? Well, I don’t think all of this can be sorted by counselling, but there are definitely head issues that need sorting as well as certain behavioural things. The account above shows that where I have failed to live up to reasonable expectations of both May and myself over the years. I’m not proud of it.

Over the years May has suggested and encouraged me to read quite a few self-help books, which I have to a greater or lesser extent tried – a couple even resonated and helped a little – probably giving her false hope. One ‘error’ I feel May possibly made is thinking that she could somehow change me. You can never change someone else, however, you need to engage with them in a way they understand so they realise and accept they need to change themselves. I think this may have finally been achieved.

Change – whatever that ends up being, I don’t know yet – will be slow, I’m sure, (and as I said at the top there are probably some things that will never change) but it has to start somewhere. I think it should start here and now.

May, I’m sorry it’s taken over fifteen years.

*in some ways, at least until the marriage self-destructs.

**not as idyllic as that sounds really, but that’s not my story.

OK, Fine, Let’s Talk About Feelings (H) April 12, 2012

I’m not very good at hints, but on looking rather stunned and crest-fallen after reading May’s last post I think her saying “you could always write a response” was just about unsubtle enough for me to pick up on.

I’m not sure what I’m going to say yet, so let’s see where this goes…

Sidling does fit well as a description of my behaviour, I think. Yes, definitely worse when I’m stressed, which as May generously points out is quite a lot recently. The new job is a lot more stressful than the previous (don’t worry I’ll spare you the boring details, suffice to say I inherited a pup of a project that turned out to have real expectations of delivery, but smoke and mirrors support and resources, and more skeletons than a ghost train), but then staying in the old job while the organisation wound down around me would also have been extremely stressful – so I was kind of stuffed either way on that one. At least I have a job for the next 18 months, albeit not an ideal one.

I’m also a mass of misery. I’m not sure what other feelings I have really, as I’m emotionally constipated (I’m in the process of signing up for counselling/psychotherapy). As May recounted I have admitted to feeling scared, so I guess that’s a start.

I tend to think in a fairly binary way and I also compartmentalise (arguably quite badly, see comments on previous post). I think of strong emotions as ‘bad’. There are family reasons behind this – as a child growing up I witnessed regularly and at close hand an aunt who was bi-polar going through the highs and lows (and being hospitalised at regular intervals as she reached the extreme ends of the spectrum). I also saw her seemingly recover and get a couple of good jobs and find some stability in her life, before she committed suicide.

This means, as has been pointed out, that it’s not that I don’t have emotions but I handle them badly. I try and squash them down – and this applies to the ‘good’ ones, such as joy, too. Something that annoys May and makes her sad, I think. It means it’s difficult for us to connect on an emotional level.

So, when someone approaches me with strong emotions my ingrained, automatic response is to either sidle or hunker down into ‘protective shell’ mode. This makes effective communication near impossible and also doesn’t really provide reassurance/support. I know this intellectually, but at the time what I may know plays very little part in my reactions. I panic. this the quickly deteriorates depending on what I’m faced with – getting defensive or silent/dumb or trying to escape. This is only exacerbated when it’s someone I care about. The fear of saying the wrong thing, as I have far too often, is increasingly paralysing.

None of this is ground-breaking stuff and I’m sorry for May, in particular, who will probably be disappointed that there’s nothing new or non-obvious.

I also realise that I haven’t really addressed the non-communication aspect, which did improve a bit (I think) after our previous therapy – but I agree has relapsed. In the interest of getting this posted before the weekend of family fuss, however, I shall save some stuff up for another post soon.

99 things September 7, 2011

99 Things I Have Or Have Not Done. May’s list from a while ago. I carefully quickly deleted her responses to avoid any possible cheating.

Bold is for “done”, italics is for “Would like to do.”

1. Started my own blog – well I tried but quickly ran out of inspiration of what to say; I may well try again, but it’s more likely to be work related.
2. Slept under the stars – not something I’d do again in this country, far too cold; I prefer star-gazing from a hot-tub, bur probably best not to fall asleep in that.
3. Played in a band – played in a windband.
4. Visited Hawaii – no and not near the top of my list either.
5. Watched a meteor shower – not had much luck though, only ever seen a handful of meteors.
6. Given more than I can afford to charity – I give to charity reasonably regularly, but not huge amounts at a time.
7. Been to Disneyland/world – no, just no.
8. Climbed a mountain – at least two – Snowdon and one in Austria; been on top of a mountain in Switzerland too, but admit I took the cable-car most of the way up.
9. Held a praying mantis – nope.
10. Sung a solo – I’m pretty sure I have.
11. Bungee jumped – no and not likely to neither; too much adrenaline makes me feel very sick.
12. Visited Paris – seem to have missed this one on a couple of occasions; would be nice, but not a high priority destination.
13. Watched a lightning storm at sea – is it particularly spectacular?
14. Taught myself an art from scratch – photography, much improved over the last few years – finally went on a weekend course recently, which will hopefully give me a little improvement boost.
15. Adopted a child – it’s a possibility, but not something that I’d put down as a ‘like to do’ at the moment.
16. Had food poisoning – probably, I think some slightly undercooked chicken on a BBQ at uni, although far too much alcohol also taken that evening is equally likely to have contributed to the messy night.
17. Walked to the top of the Statue of Liberty – nope, not been to the USA (and unlikely to) skimming down the list this may be slightly tedious; tempted to replace all the American destinations with a wider variety of world sites…
18. Grown my own vegetables – no garden and several year waiting list for allotments, so this isn’t going to happen in the near future; I would probably grow the more expensive and exotic veg, rather carrots and potatoes, oh and herbs, lots of herbs.
19. Seen the Mona Lisa in France – so tempted to say yes to this to confuse people…
20. Slept on an overnight train – definitely want to take the Caledonian sleeper to/from Scotland, almost done it a few times, but needs far too much pre-planning to get tickets at a reasonable price; usually hire a car in the end and do visits to interesting places on the journey, which is also great fun.
21. Had a pillow fight – pretty sure I have (don’t have a great memory).
22. Hitchhiked – far too introverted for that sort of activity.
23. Taken a sick day when you’re not ill – hmmm, sometimes I may have exaggerated a touch but always been slightly ill.
24. Built a snow fort – far too busy sledging.
25. Held a lamb – only a roasted bit of one, I think they’re tastier like that; or prettier in the distance.
26. Gone skinny dipping – not since I was a kid mind.
27. Run a marathon – never likely to get to that distance, should really try for a 5K or something.
28. Ridden in a gondola in Venice – I valued my family and internal organs too much to auction them off.
29. Seen a total eclipse – almost complete solar and complete lunar.
30. Watched a sunrise or sunset – sunset far too easy, think this should be just sunrise; think I’ve done that once (not a morning person).
31. Hit a home run – why would I want to do that? what’s a home run ever done to deserve a beating?
32. Been on a cruise – Nordic fjords definitely calling, but being stuck on board with goodness knows who makes me hesitate wimp out; also requires lots of forward planning, not easy to do when TTC.
33. Seen Niagara Falls in person – nope.
34. Visited the birthplace of my ancestors – how many generations back before they count as ancestors? I’ve been to the house one of my grandmother’s was born in. I have traced my paternal line back a few more generations to Shropshire area; keep meaning to do more research in local parish records there.
35. Seen an Amish community – nope.
36. Taught myself a new language – taught myself PHP to a prett fluent level, but had tuition for the more advanced level; considering dabbling in Ruby or Python.
37. Had enough money to be truly satisfied – not something one can predict as a future event; feel rather guilty leaving as a no though, as certainly living comfortably and not scraping by despite multi-year wage freezes, increased NI tax and now govt wanting to rob me of extra contributions. Materialistically I’ve always wanted to own property but just missed the bottom of the ladder by about two or three years when prices shot up in the 90s/00s. Such a first world issue.
38. Seen the Leaning Tower of Pisa in person – only from a train window.
39. Gone rock climbing – see bungee jumping.
40. Seen Michelangelo’s David – only the copy in the square.
41. Sung karaoke – I can sing, but never plucked up the courage (or found exactly the right amount of alcohol) to participate; main problem is I’m not confident enough that I can remember the whole melody of a song!
42. Seen Old Faithful geyser erupt – another nope.
43. Bought a stranger a meal at a restaurant – no, not had occasion to – not sure when one would? Certainly wouldn’t rule it out as a random act of generosity – intriguing concept.
44. Visited Africa – another continent unexplored; given that I burn to a crisp in UK, however, I’m not sure that would be the ideal continent for me.
45. Walked on a beach by moonlight – not that I can remember.
46. Been transported in an ambulance – though only as an extra passenger along with May.
47. Had my portrait painted – don’t think so.
48. Gone deep sea fishing – no, not keen on being completely surrounded by water in anything smaller than a large ferry.
49. Seen the Sistine Chapel in person – nope.
50. Been to the top of the Eiffel Tower in Paris – why so many things in Paris? this one does actually interest me though.
51. Gone scuba diving or snorkelling – no, aqua-phobic for being under water.
52. Kissed in the rain – that has a lot to answer for doesn’t it, May
53. Played in the mud – have a vague impression I was impossible to keep out of it as a toddler.
54. Gone to a drive-in theatre – do they have them in the UK?
55. Been in a movie – no, only in a TV documentary (only for less than 10 seconds, was very envious at the time that the camera lingered on my brother for about 30 seconds).
56. Visited the Great Wall of China – it’s just a lot of old bricks isn’t it?
57. Started a business – as part of school business studies project; we created ‘pet’ rocks (pebbles) and other items (like nails) by affixing wobbly eyes and other adornments to them. In adult life I’m far to risk-averse, unless I come up with the next Facebook or retire to the outerwherevers to run a small shop.
58. Taken a martial arts class – never found the idea attractive really.
59. Visited Russia – would love to see the Moscow underground stations.
60. Served at a soup kitchen – something I keep meaning to do.
61. Sold Girl Scout Cookies – I think it would be slightly creepy if I had.
62. Gone whale watching – see deep sea fishing.
63. Got flowers for no reason – I assume this means procured flowers for no reason, rather than received?
64. Donated blood, platelets or plasma – ashamed to say no, and now I’m on blood-pressure medication it makes it less likely.
65. Gone sky diving – see bungee jumping.
66. Visited a Nazi Concentration Camp – I visited the holocaust exhibition at the Imperial War Museum though.
67. Bounced a check – my work experience placement at school was in a local bank. One of my jobs was to go through the checks and pull out the ones the bank was going to bounce. Really awkward, as I knew one of the people I had to do that for (never let on though).
68. Flown in a helicopter – I’ve flown in a light aircraft, but not in a helicopter yet.
69. Saved a favorite childhood toy – not specifically, there are a few items from childhood still at my parents’, but not specifically toys.
70. Visited the Lincoln Memorial – I think this would be difficult, having not been to the US!
71. Eaten caviar – only the cheaper alternatives; meh.
72. Pieced a quilt – started but never completed.
73. Stood in Times Square – see US answers passim; very tempted to visit the shopping centre of this name in Sutton just so I could answer yes to confuse people.
74. Toured the Everglades – see above; Everglades in Bromley anyone?
75. Been fired from a job – I’ve been not given job that I had to apply for after contracting in the role for 18 months, I think that counts.
76. Seen the Changing of the Guards in London – several times.
77. Broken a bone – my toe is the most dramatic I can manage though.
78. Been on a speeding motorcycle – see adrenaline ‘allergy’ comments above.
79. Seen the Grand Canyon in person – damn, nowhere in UK with this name.
80. Published a book – unlikely, being a man of few words.
81. Visited the Vatican – I think I’d be too tempted to commit criminal damage.
82. Bought a brand new car – no, it’s first few miles the deprecation is enormous; I have hired a brand new car that only had 12 miles on the clock, it didn’t strike me as particularly special in any way. Why I have marked this as a future possibility is that if I’m ever in a situation needing a car again I’d probably get an electric one and that would more likely be bought/leased from brand new, just because I don’t think there’ll be a big second hand market for them for a decade or so yet.
83. Walked in Jerusalem – you mean the Jerusalem Passage in Islington? no, I didn’t think so.
84. Had my picture in the newspaper – only a regional title, but playing the bassoon in a wind group busking for charity as a teenager.
85. Read the entire Bible – not sure I want to pollute my mind that much.
86. Visited the White House – no, and there are so many to choose from.
87. Killed and prepared an animal for eating – I’ve skinned and gutted a rabbit, but it was pre-caught/killed.
88. Had chickenpox – don’t remember it much, think I was about age 9.
89. Saved someone’s life – not directly that I’m aware of. I did feature, in a photographic sense, in a drug rehabilitation poster/leaflet, so maybe that helped someone in some way…
90. Sat on a jury – no, very annoyingly my jury summons went to an old address and I didn’t get it until after the response deadline.
91. Met someone famous – a few, nobody particularly glamorous though.
92. Joined a book club – as a student I belonged to a book club.
93. Lost a loved one – I remember the loss of two aunts, a cousin, a grandfather and a great-grandfather in my family and a grandmother in May’s. Most importantly though, Pikaia.
94. Had a baby – ngngngngngngng. It would, of course, be May having the baby, as I lack the right equipment.
95. Seen the Alamo in person – to give you a headcase probably not the one you’re thinking of though.
96. Swam in the Great Salt Lake – nope never been to US for the nth time!
97. Been involved in a law suit – no.
98. Owned a cell phone – is there anyone who hasn’t?
99. Been stung by a bee – yes, and found I was alergic! I was stung on the tip of my finger, but my whole arm swelled and had rash all over my chest. Annoyingly there is no predicting whether next time will be less or more severe. I carry an adrenaline jab around in the summer.

I tag you, if you didn’t do it previously when May did. You’ve read all the way down to here, haven’t you? You know you want to really.