vacantuterus

Finally!

Look!  Pictures of my insides!  After weeks of futile missives I can mysteriously post pictures again! 

When you click to enlarge the picture it's still tiny but on my computer a magnifying glass with a plus sign inside appears and if you click the picture again, it'll magnify even more so that you can see my handy labels as well as some of the many defects they removed from my uterus.  I love the way the polyps are trying to grow right over the entrance to my fallopian tubes.  THAT would have been loads of fun should I ever have managed to get pregnant again!

So much for that

The $66 birth control isn't doing it's job, so back to El Cheapo I go.  Frankly, the morale boost is amazing.  I don't know why it makes me so cheerful; birth control is birth control.  I guess I resented shelling out the money more than I thought.  My pharmacy was very nice and refunded the money I paid for the two unopened packs I had left.  I wasn't expecting the answer to be yes when I asked but sometimes living in a small town and being nice to the people who wait on you helps.

What was NOT morale boosting, however, was the call to the clinic.  "Well when's your IVF?" asked Nurse Helpful.  "Uh, we are doing an FET with donor embryos and we don't even have embryos yet so who knows?" I replied.  "Could be June, could be next year some time."  There was a significant pause on the other end of the line.  I've only been a patient there a few months, I don't think they expected this level of cynical.  "Well, you need to take a week's break before you switch and that can't happen around your FET." she explained.  "So the earliest you'd be able to cycle is June.  If you get embryos tomorrow, you'll have to wait a month."  I felt like laughing at the idea that we'd get embryos tomorrow or that four more weeks of waiting would even make a dent.  After five years, what's another four weeks?

I'm not thrilled with taking a week off of bcps mainly because I am a whiny little baby who is going to have to have a peeeeriooood.  Waaah!  It'll be my first official period since the surgery.  My periods were HORRIBLE before the surgery and I'm not expecting that too much has changed.  Sure, Jimmy and the Goodpolyps are all gone so I guess that'll help.  But the cramps that make me feel like my midsection is on fire?  The backache that feels like an army of demented squirrels are chiseling their way out of my pelvis with tiny hammers and awls?  The nausea?  The diarrhea?  I don't expect any of that to have gone anywhere. 

I warned my job in general sort of way that I was switching meds and would probably feel horrible.  I have a professional conference on Thursday of this week so I'm hoping the worst will be over by then.  More concerning to me is the fact that I'm going change ringing for the first time on Tuesday night and I really, really do not want to miss that. 

At least now I know: cheap or bust.  My body is not designed for the finer things. 

In which things slide downhill.

I paid $66.00 for birth control today.  That was after insurance coverage.  $66.00.  So that for the next three months I can be absolutely assured that I will NOT get pregnant.

I just....

God and I had a talk on the way home.  I was as nice as I could be about the whole thing.  It would be really great, God, if we could have embryos to transfer before this prescription runs out. I said as I clenched the steering wheel.  I know You have a plan for me but I have to tell you, I cannot imagine WHAT You can possibly be about in this world when so many unworthy people have babies every day--and God, I am thinking of specific examples right now; You know who they are!--and I am still here, five years later, with no baby on the horizon, paying for BIRTH CONTROL.  Isn't it ENOUGH already?  When is it all ENOUGH?! 

Sarge asked me what was wrong when I got home and I could barely tell him.  I stood in the sunlight of the kitchen with my arms spread open, my hands flapping uselessly, tears pouring down my face.  "$66.00..." was all I could get out.  "Five years....I am done.  DONE."  A pause for more sobbing.  "BIRTH CONTROL!  It's just...I mean...do you get it?  Birth control!  All that money for birth control.  And the only ultrasound picture on our fridge is of a polyp."

I just don't know what to do with myself anymore.

And oh! how we all did laugh...

Want to hear about something fun?  I know you do! 

I?  Am allergic to doxy.cyclin.  Yes indeedy!  My face, neck and chest are covered in tiny bright red bumps.  They don't itch, they just look ugly.

I thought I was developing an allergy to my face cream, which is why I ignored it for the past four days.  But the rash spread and it finally occured to me to talk to my pharmacist.  Yep, it's an allergy.  I should take benad.ryl.  It'll go away in a week or so.  Don't take this medicine again.

I'd post pictures but I still can't. 

Every time I think there can be no further complication....

The Verdict

Did you know that "verdict" literally translated means "to speak truth?"  "Ver" is Latin for truthful and "dict" is to speak.  So when a judge pronounces a verdict, he pronounces a truth.  Weighty, huh?  It would make me think twice if I was part of the judiciary.

I'm sorry, I don't know how I get on these tangents.

Here's what Professor Schmutz, M.D. had to say about the state of things in my uterus: Sweet Mary woman, you can really grow you some polyps!  He didn't really say it that way but I caught his implication.  Jimmy Hoffa was indeed a large polyp and apparently he had quite the gang of goodpolyps enforcing things in there.  Lucky for me they were all benign, though, so whew!  Also lucky for me that they came out when they did; they were starting to occlude the entrance to my left fallopian tube.  I can't imagine that would have led to anything good. 

In addition to Jimmy and the Gang, my uterine lining was "extremely thick and irregular."  Professor Schmutz, M.D. peered searchingly at me, making sure I understood.  He told me that cleaning out my lining was significantly more complicated than he'd expected and it took him a long time.  He seemed uncomfortable with the state of things in there.  I got the feeling that it was all a ticking time bomb and best removed. 

I'm assured that it will all grow back in time but he's hoping for months or maybe years before it does.  There's some suspicion that I may have endometriosis as well but since we elected not to do a laparoscopy, we don't know for sure.  And since I did not handle the simplistic hysteroscopy very well, he's reluctant to dive back into another surgery.  It doesn't seem important to know right now.  I am taking birth control to supress everything else and that will work just as well for the endo.

When he asked me how I was feeling insofar as my infection went, I had to tell him about the weekend and the Big Bleed and all of that.  He sank into his cahir, put his head in his hand,closed his eyes and sighed.  I had the feeling that if there had been a bottle of Tums handy, he'd have had some right then and there.  "This is NOT a normal post-operative experience." he stressed.  I wanted to pat his shoulder and tell him it was okay, this is just me, just how it goes down here in the Bermuda Triangle of Health.  The poor man looked so upset.  He was adamant that I finish my antibiotics (already planning to, too scared to do otherwise) and stay on birth control.  And for goodness' sake, get better already!

I'm trying.  I really am.  I AM feeling better today and the bleeding has slowed way down.  I'm trying to take it easy and not push myself too much.  I'm finally back at work, which I'm counting as major progress.  I'm looking ahead, hoping for embryos, waiting for the weather to get warmer and thinking, every once in a while about what my garden will look like in June...

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Sigh.  I have pictures of my insides but TypePad will not let me post them.  I guess those will be along when TypePad is done throwing it's snit.

Will it never end?

When we went away this weekend, I unthinkingly left my birth control at home.  I know, stupid, but I'm not used to taking it yet.  It's only been a few weeks since I started it.  And we were only gone two days.  I didn't think it would be that bad.

It was.

My body decided that two days of missed pills meant that it should be having a period.  So I started cramping and bleeding badly on Sunday night into Monday morning.  Which meant that I did NOT return to work as planned.  I tried, just couldn't do it.  After taking 800 mg of Ibupro.fen last night, I finally got the cramping down to a minimum.  But my uterus is so irritated after surgery, infection and everything else that the spot inside me that was gushing blood before has reopened and is gushing again.  Every time I stand up, I feel like I'm peeing my pants.  I can't imagine this is doing me any sort of good.  Insult to injury is the rebound migraine that that much Ibu gives me.  I can barely see to type.

I'm really miserable.  I want to be better already.  It's been almost two weeks.  This is ridiculous.  Somebody shoot me.

What me, worry?

The bleeding has mostly stopped.  Yesterday was the turning point; I felt less like an old mushroom and more like a person again.  I still have to take it easy or I can feel something split open inside of me and I get a rush of blood that drowns a pad.  But the bonus is that I no longer feel like I'm carrying around a hot bowling ball between my hips, so progress is.

****************

We got an email from our agency.  The firstmom is expected to make her decision tomorrow.  They will call us either way.  So.  We will know by tomorrow.  I can barely breathe.

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I dreamt last night that I was in an advanced state of pregnancy.  I was seated in a dentist's chair with a bright light trained on me and Sarge standing worriedly by my side.  Doctors were telling us that we had to have PGD NOW or our embryos would be deformed.  The price they wanted was outrageous, we couldn't afford it.  So I gave birth to a room full of giant bugs.

After that I went out to Lowe's to get some painter's tape.  I was in the area, so I swung by our adoption agency's main office and asked one of the social workers about the status of our adoption.  It turns out that the social worker was meeting with the birthmom right at that moment.  She gestured to the young woman with a smile and told me that she was expected to make her decision right now and I could stay to hear it if I wanted.  The mom said: "Well,  I think of you as staying home and this other couple as a trip to Kohl's.  And why would I stay home when I could go shopping at Kohl's?"  I was flummoxed by that.  She and the social worker went over to call the other couple and I was assigned the task of calling Sarge to tell him that we weren't picked.  I was both on the phone with him and and actually with him, in that strange way that dreams have.  He was completely shattered, just staring into space.  I tried to soften the blow, say that I thought it wouldn't have been a good fit anyway but it didn't help.  He just sat there, staring at this big empty bag our dream selves owned.  The bag was supposed to be filled with diapers and toys; it was really massive.  Instead, it was tipped in it's side and we could see one lone, tiny stuffed dog inside.  Otherwise, it was totally empty. 

My father and brother tried to console us with jokes and a can of beans cooked on a tripod of sticks over a car engine.  And then I woke up.

********************

I don't know how anyone does this more than once.

I don't even know **UPDATED**

Okay, you're right.  I'm probably overreacting about possible cancer.  Interesting fact: narcotics make me paranoid.  I felt much better about the whole thing once I stopped taking the tylenol 3.  I'm not going to say all better, but things definitely started looking up.  The thing that combined with the tylenol three to make me so unsure was that conversation I'd had with my regualr ob/gyn a year or two ago.  You know, the one where he told me that if I didn't start having a period like a regular girl, I'd have uterine cancer.  And that I was already at high risk.  I don't know, I guess that shook me more than I thought.

Anyway, I'm feeling better about that now.

Still nothing to report about our possible adoption.

In other interesting news, I've developed an infection in my uterus.  Antibiotics, hooplah!  Professor Schmutz, MD did a double take when he saw me in the office today.  "Sorry to bother you," I apologized.  "It's just that you said I should be feeling close to normal at this point and I don't.  Not remotely."   I'm now on doxycycl.in and big doses of motrin.

Aaaaand since I'm keeping you abreast of the really interesting updates, I've just started bleeding.  Bright red blood.  Lots of it.  Almost right through a pad.  Sarge is freaking right the heck out.  And I?  I am updating the internet.  We all cope in different ways.

They're supposed to call me back.  I'll let you know when I know anything.

*UPDATE*  Professor Schmutz, MD told me that if I continued bleeding at the rate I was, I'd have to go to the ER.  But luckily it slowed way down and I am back to bleeding only a trickle.  Bonus: I no longer look like an old mushroom.  I'm so ready for this to be over.

The Hysteroscopy

I kept telling myself that it was stupid to be scared.  A hysteroscopy is minor procedure, women have them every day.  Professor Schmutz, MD does this procedure hundreds of times a week.  Nervous is an invalid emotion. 

It didn't help.  I was still scared.

Sarge had brought his mp3 player and asked if I'd like to listen to some music while I waited.  I said yes.  It was a good idea and I'm glad he thought of it.  I found a song I liked, an old favorite; played it again and again.  I closed mye eyes, really trying to hear the words: "He gives beauty for ashes, strength for fear, gladness for mourning, peace for despair..."  I pictured God behind me, hands on my shoulders, always with me no matter where I am.  I'm never alone.  I pictured the women from my Jimmy Hoffa party around me, too.  They had their alarms set yesterday to remind them to pray for me as I was going in, going under.  I pictured them as they were the night before, laughing and joking, patting my hand or my shoulder, smiling at me and giving me encouragement.  I started to feel more peaceful.  I pictured all of you in a larger ring around them, all of your collective support, your emails, your comments.  I don't have faces for many of you so I just saw names swirling around the faces I did know.  "Peace for despair..."

When I opened my eyes again, I felt calm.  I felt ready.  Professor Schmutz, MD asked me if I was ready and I said yes.  He asked if I was nervous and I replied that I was, a little.  He smiled at me in his kindly way and told me that the feeling was completely normal.  And then he had the nurse escort me back to the room.

The music was gone at that point and so were my friendly faces, vanished like smoke.  I had a hard time even holding onto the image of God with me.  He's with you, I told myself.  He is in all these moments before you and with you.  Even if it doesn't feel true.  I walked into the cold of the OR and a nurse shouted at me: "Okay, let's get you started party girl!"  I stopped dead in my tracks, all of my willpower bent on not turning around.  Party girl?  This isn't a party! I wanted to say.  You are going to stick sharp instruments inside me, cut pieces of me away.  I am going to bleed and hurt.  How is this a party?  She frightened me.

I think the nurse walking with me realized that I was overwhelmed because I did not hear or see the loud nurse again.  Gently, so gently, she and her handmaidens settled me on the table, making sure I was properly positioned.  I thought they would put my legs in the stirrups before I was out but they didn't; I was grateful.  I was anxious enough as it was, laying there with my lower half open, waiting for sedation would have been too much. 

"Think of your favorite place." said the gentle nurse.  "Where's your favorite place in the whole world?" 

"Germany" I said, as tears began to leak out of my eyes.  I truly couldn't help it.  "My brother and sister-in-law live there, with my nephews.  It's so beautiful."  If I could have wished myself off that table and into their living room at that moment I would have.  I would have given anything to have had Beth there with me at that moment.  "You're going to feel your head start to swim" said Gentle Nurse.  "I just put a little something in your IV.  Oh." She took a corner of the blanket and wiped my eyes. 

I started to feel a little off but nothing big.  "Is that all you're giving me?" I asked, slightly panicked.  "Oh, no."  she replied. "Take a deep breath."  An oxygen mask came down over my face. 

I woke up in pain, shaking uncontrollably.  Gentle Nurse was gone, replaced by one or maybe five brisk nurses.  They pumped hot air under the blankets, gave me dilauded for the pain, told me to try to stop shaking.  As if I could.  My uterus felt like it had been in a blender.  It hurt.  When the dilauded kicked in, it was a blessing.  I stopped shaking then.

I heard one nurse tell another that they removed a "very large polyp."  And that I had bled a lot.  She sounded grim.  "What?" I asked.  "A polyp?  What does that mean?  Is that bad?"  They clammed up.  I don't think I was supposed to hear or remember that.  I kept asking.  They told me that the doctor would go over everything with me at my post-op appointment.  They didn't have any more information for me.

And that is where I am today, another Easter spent wondering what is going on inside my body.  Where is this polyp they found?  Was it on my cerivx, is that the reason I'm always so difficult to cath?  Or, as I suspect, was it in my uterus?  Was the thing we all thought was a septum in actuality a large polyp?  Maybe, I think to myself, that's why it didn't show up on the HSG; it wasn't there.  It's grown in me since then.  That theory makes a frightening amount of sense.  And then, if that's true, what if it's cancerous?  If it's cancerous then there will be no embryo adoption, no domestic adoption.  There will be drugs and hair loss and a possible hysterectomy.  Am I reaching?  Maybe. 

But what if all the light and life and hope in the past weeks was to buffer me for a big fall coming?  Peace for despair...  I am scared.

A Full Heart

Tonight was my Goodbye Jimmy Hoffa party.  I don't have the words to convey the experience to you; my heart's too full.  I'm giving you pictures instead.

                                                            

Roses, decaffeinated tea and a beautiful new teapot from everyone.

                                                            

A meal complete with dessert so that I don't have to worry about anything tomorrow, from Jen.  (She of hand-holding fame.)  She always includes dessert; that just blows me away. 

                                                            

This made me cry.  I was on the brink already (I am so emotional lately!) but Joanna pushed me over.  She designed and made this beautiful necklace for me.  In the card she attached she explained that the word "Hope" symbloized her giving me her hope.  The star symbloizes looking above to God for love and support.  The two hearts almost as one have so many meanings; they make me think of my relationship with Sarge, and the way our child is always almost here but never quite.  We are almost complete.  And the pearl...the pearl takes a long time to become.  She wrote: "It starts as something small and after a time becomes something beautiful.  So it is the same thing with you and your journey.  It may have taken a long time, but in the end I have faith that you will have your pearl."  Oh.  Oh, my dear. 

And they wouldn't even let me pay for my own dinner. 

We closed the place down.  I felt so bouyed by their love and support.  It doesn't matter to my friends that this is not major surgery.  They're along for the journey, a collective pair of arms carrying me.  It's more than beautiful gifts or good food or even a fun time out.  I have a heart connection, a sisterhood with these women that isn't born of shared experience but out of something bigger.  I'm humbled by their willingness to love me so completely and inspired to travel outside myself. 

I feel like I'm starting to become myself again, the self I've lost to illness and infertility.  I feel like there is healing in my heart.  Good hope, not false hope.  No matter what the outcome.