Is this a 2ww?
I can’t believe it’s been nearly a month since I posted. Especially as this month has gone soooooooooo slowly.
So after the abandoned cycle, I went back in for a baseline scan to see how things were at the start of my cycle. Now, considering I’d apparently had next to no lining, I was surprised by how much blood there was! But I had my scan and all seemed ok. No mention was made of medication, although Dr Nice did say that they would monitor my lining closely and, if needed, give me some drugs to help thicken it up.
I went along with life as normal for another week, and then went in for my CD9 scan. It was Dr Nice again, so I felt reassured that if anything was wrong it would get sorted out. He seemed a bit worried about my lining so suggested I come for another scan on CD 11 to see how it’s coming along.
Warning bells should have started there – didn’t he say that if it wasn’t thickening up enough, he’d give me some drugs to help. So why the delay?
Wednesday comes along. I see Dr Nasty. And he doesn’t even mention the lining. He’s now concerned about my worrryingly short luteal phase.
Oh god, here we go again.
So at last someone is acknowledging there is a problem. But isn’t it a bit late to be picking up on this now. This is, after all, my third cycle with them. He makes me have some blood tests (luckily the nurse does them there and then, so no waiting in a crowded hospital waiting area). And I ask what will happen if I get my surge at the weekend. He explains that if it comes on Saturday then that’s just the way it is.
But what about a trigger shot? I ask. Well, he shrugs, if the follicle is more than 18mm on Friday, I could do it then and come in for insemination on Saturday. So I need to come for another scan on Friday then? Er, yes, he replies. God, it’s like getting blood from a stone, let alone my arm!
By now I’m starting to feel depressed about all of this. The constant rushing across London to sit and wait for 40+ minutes for my appointment. The surly attitude of some of the staff I have to see. The lack of explanations for what they do. The complete failure to even come close to meeting their mission statement to give an individual, holistic approach to treatment. The lack of communication to me or between staff that means a different story with each dr I see. And the constant dismissal of anything I have to say.
I have given up all hope of any of this working. The acupuncture was blatantly a waste of money, even if it was nice to lie still and think of nothing for half an hour each week. All the herbs and supplements I’ve been taking are a waste of time. All I have done to try and enhance my fertility and health has all been for nothing. I might as well have just stayed overweight, carried on drinking, continued to eat normally. Hey maybe, I should even take up smoking! I have had enough and can’t see the point in going on.
But I do.
And Friday comes around, and still no surge. So I have my final scan with Dr Nasty and the follicle is 22mm (although isn’t that including the cyst that I’m sure is attached to it?). But the lining apparently has shrunk since Wednesday. How is that even possible?! Dr Nasty gives me a prescription for a high dosage of drugs that will apparently help thicken the lining up and tells me to start taking them as soon as possible. He tells me to have some more blood tests and then do the HcG trigger shot while I’m there and book in for insemination tomorrow.
I see another nurse who takes my bloods and leaves me to do the shot while she books me in for the next day. Eventually, she comes back and tells me I’m booked in for tomorrow at 11am.
It’s 3pm and I’ve just done a trigger shot as I’ve failed to surge naturally. Doesn’t that take around 36 hours to work? And 11am tomorrow is a mere 20 hours away. My 6 hour window of perfect timing is a long way off this reckoning. Don’t worry, the nurse assures me. It will be fine. And we don’t have appointments on Saturday afternoon anyway.
I see. So rather than abandon the cycle that has everything stacked against it, they want me to come in and get basted so they still get their money. Great.
So as if I wasn’t already depressed enough, this is the icing on the cake. I rush back to work, popping into Boots to pick up my prescription. Or so I thought. The dosage is much higher than would normally be prescribed so they need to talk to the dr. He’s with a patient when they call and will phone back. Boots will phone me when they hear from him. At 17.30, they call back to say they haven’t heard back and have tried again but there’s no answer. So I can’t have my drugs after all. Yet again, Dr Nasty excels at his stupidity and yet again, it’s me, the idiot helping to pay his salary, that suffers.
I finally give into the tears that evening and spend most of it crying, trying to work out what to do next. We decide we have no choice but to go ahead as the sperm sample will have been defrosted ready and will only be wasted.
Saturday morning dawns and my stomach lurches when I remember where things are at. Me and the wife argue all the way to the clinic. I want to go somewhere new for the next try, even if it does cost more. She wants to try IVF. Which is fine for her to say as she doesn’t have to go through it.
We get to the hospital early so find a chemist to try and get my drugs from again and this time are successful. We find a little park to sit and chill for a bit before going back to the hospital, and I take my oestrogen supplements – Progynova – more commonly used by menopausal women. Now the paranoia starts again – maybe I’m one of those women who has an early menopause?
We head back to the hospital and are eventually told they’re running late. Well no surprise there, but that’s got to be a good thing – every minute closer to 24 hours is a minute closer to actually having a chance.
In the end we’re just over an hour late going in. The nurse is really nice and the procedure is over fairly quickly. Apart from a couple of twinges when she was threading the catheter in, it’s not too bad really.
She leaves me to rest for 10 minutes and then comes back armed with the progesterone support that Dr Nasty wants me to take for my luteal phase. I ask about next month (which we all know there’s going to be!) and she has a chat with Dr Nasty who tells me it’s my choice whether I try a medicated cycle or just continue with the oestrogen and progesterone supplements. But, if pushed, he’d recommend I take FSH injections to better my chances. I can’t help wondering why he chose that drug when my follicle seems to be about the only thing that is working. But I guess I’ll ask next month – after doing lots of research myself of course!
Wife and I grab some food and wander up to the Lea Valley Park I’ve heard so much about. We cross Hackney Marshes and sit and eat our lunch and then keep on walking through the park and Walthamstow Nature Reserve. It’s a beautiful, sunny day and so peaceful, barely anyone else is around. For the first time in days, I feel calm and happy.
We stop at a pub on the way home and buy some ice cream to eat while we watch a film later.
I think now it’s actually happened, I can just get on with life as normal and stop worrying about it.
But then, I wake up this morning and take my temperature. And it’s lower than yesterday. Which means I haven’t ovulated yet. Which means there is absolutely no way on earth the sperm will still be alive to meet the egg when I do. I feel angry and depressed all over again.
And then the wife starts on about doing IVF from now on.
She really doesn’t get how much I want to avoid it. I hate having things put into my vagina, my cervix is extremely sensitive, I don’t want to have to take any more drugs than absolutely necessary and the stress of all the extra time off work it would necessitate really doesn’t help.
This really has been an awful week. I feel more despondent by the minute and am so tempted just to get wasted to block it all out. There is no 2 week wait to enjoy, just another frustrating wait for my period to show up again, all the while popping high dosage pills and shoving pessaries up my arse. And people have the audacity to say we shouldn’t have children – we do all this to have one, and they think we’re unfit parents. That makes me livid.
Maybe I’ll keep you posted on the side effects of the drugs. I’m guessing the incredible itching of my vulva must be related, but who knows? Maybe it’s just the stress of it all…