CX

Saturday, October 18, 2014
8:00am

Joshua and I woke up groggy as we prepared for another drive to the doctor.

I was so weary.

My body feared the needles after seven rounds of blood work in the past week and a half and a week's worth of self-injections.  I was thankful to have gone one night without two more shots.  My left arm still had the baseball size bruise that was tender to the touch.  My right arm had the six remaining marks where the nurses had exhausted my veins.

I rushed to take a shower and quickly got dressed.

My stomach felt like it had balloons placed inside that someone continued to air up.  My body was weak and jello-like, and I could see the weight gain that made it difficult to button up my jeans.  The tiny spots were visible where the shots had been strategically placed over the past eight days. Ironically, the nausea made it difficult to think of eating or drinking the water bottle that was necessary to get me through the next needle.

We drove in near silence as I braced myself for the upcoming appointment.  My leg ached and I worried what it meant.

When we arrived to the doctor, I was anxious to get my questions answered.  Yet, something inside of me was uneasy about what was to come.

I made it through another vial as my arm tinged with pain.  The nurse left the room so I could undress and my legs began to shake.  Despite years of tests, procedures, and exams my body never gets used to that feeling of exposure.

The P.A. returned and carefully went through the routine.  She took notes over all the changes that had occurred and mentioned there was little development in my follicles--all 50+ of them.

"10. 10.5. 10.5. 10. 9.5...."

"But they're growing, right?  That's still good news."

She didn't respond other than saying, "Let me get through the measurements and then we might talk."

I watched the ultrasound screen and listened as she continued to talk to the the nurse.

What happened next seemed to go in slow motion.  I remember leaning back and holding my arms as my body began to shake.  She mentioned that I wasn't where I needed to be and that my estrogen levels were way too high.  "For where your follicles are at, we should be at 500.  Maybe.  You were over 1600 yesterday."

My eyes welled up with tears and I apologized for the uncontrollable emotions.

"I'm not saying it's definite.  But, I just want to plant the seed that they might end up cancelling."

I nodded slowly as she continued to talk.  However, all I could hear was the booming of my heartbeat as disappointment overwhelmed me.

Joshua stood in front of me as they left the room.  I couldn't manage to lift my head off his chest as the tears streamed down my face.  He tried to console me and told me this was for the best.  He shared his concern for my well-being and making sure we took care of me.  He said to be positive and "she didn't say they would have to cancel".  It wasn't over.

As I figuratively picked myself up off the floor, I wiped the tears and got dressed.  I mustered up a half-smile for the front staff as I put one foot in front of the other.

Once in the car, Joshua drove me to breakfast.

My stomach growled, but I couldn't seem to make myself eat other than two small bananas foster crepes I had been craving from the night before.

Back at home, I sulked as I waited for the phone call.

10:17am

-My estrogen level continued to climb and had reached 3,390.
At this rate my levels would be over 20,000 when egg retrieval is scheduled.
-I had over 50 follicles where the average person has 15-20.
-I had fluid on my left ovary that caused concern and they placed me on a high-salt diet.
-I had rapid weight gain and severe pain that indicates I had developed OHSS,
Ovarian Hyper Stimulation Syndrome.
-They cancelled our treatment cycle.

I thanked her quickly as I tried to escape the phone call before the emotions came.

Then I filled up the bath tub, and I sobbed.

I sobbed because of the overwhelming disappointment of being so close.

I sobbed because of the incredible emptiness of knowing we were left empty-hearted.

I sobbed because of the guilt of knowing that I had let down my husband.

I sobbed because of the great despair of not seeing an end in sight.

I sobbed because of the fear of where the money would come from again.

I sobbed because I was tired, so tired.