Two weeks doesn't seem like that long to wait, until you have a lot invested.
As it turned out, I could handle one week with ease. I didn't even really think much about whether or not I could be pregnant. But as soon as I hit 8 days of waiting I started to seriously wonder. It doesn't help that there are early pregnancy that state they can pick up pregnancy hormones from as early as 7-10 days after conception. IVF means you know exactly when your egg was fertilised, so 8 days seems like a good time to start home pregnancy testing.
First home pregnancy test - negative.
At about this time I also had my first cut loose day from my pre-pregnancy weight loss diet. We had a friend that was celebrating their 40th birthday and there were many delicious treats to be had. Later that night I had weird pain in my chest. I was trying to get to sleep and this ache was throbbing away. I didn't want to take any pain killers, just in case I was pregnant. I checked out the time, thinking if I needed to go hospital I would need to know how long the pain lasted. Next thing I wake up in the morning pain free and I didn't really think much about the episode.
Queensland Fertility Group must know that about about a week after transfer all their patients start going a bit crazy, so they schedule a call to see how patients are going. When the nurse rang she asked about the ovarian hyper-stimulation symptoms I'd experienced. I mentioned the chest pain, which the nurse puts down to possibly having fluid in my lungs as a result of the hyper-stimulation.
I make it through the second week wait, with only taking three home pregnancy tests - all negative. I convinced myself that I would prefer to have an idea of the outcome of the blood test so that my hopes aren't too high.
When I head in for my blood test, I'm confident that I'm not pregnant. I'm told it should only take an hour for the result to be through to my specialist. I wait an hour and a half and ring to find out the result - they aren't there. I'm told there has been a problem in the lab and to ring back in an hour. An hour later I sneak off from my desk and ring again - still a hold up in the lab. My anxiety is rising - I tell myself, you are not pregnant, why is this stressing you out. As instructed I ring back in another hour and still there is a hold up in lab. When they ask me to ring back in hour I say no - I can't - I've rung three times and have meetings and work to do.
I ring the Queensland Fertility Group (QFG) head office to find out what the hold up is - they have no idea. I fire off a nasty email to QFG about the general lack of service, given that I just shelled out $7,000 and am emotionally invested up to the eyeballs.
Hours later when I have time I ring my specialist's office again - finally the result are in - I'm not pregnant. They tell me I should have a chat with my specialist in the coming days to discuss what I want to do next.
The next day, which happens to be a Saturday, my specialist calls me. He is so nice. I don't know how he does it. He seems so genuinely sorry it hasn't worked out and also apologises for the stuffing around the day before. He reminds me it didn't all go bad and that I'm in the enviable position of having 10 high quality frozen embryos. We discuss when I might want to try again. He tells me there is no physical reason I shouldn't try again in my next cycle, depending on how I am coping emotionally. He refers me to his website patient login area to read the information on the different approaches to frozen embryo transfers and asks me to call him on his after hours number the next night.
Matt and I discuss what we want to do and decide we are prepared to go again straight away. The next night I have dinner just before I'm supposed to call the specialist and as soon as I put down my cutlery I start to get the chest pain like I had experienced a week earlier. I ring my specialist to let him know we are keen to go again and ask him about the chest pain given that it started through the IVF cycle. He tells me it sounds like my gallbladder and that I should get it checked out before we proceed.
Once I hang up the phone the pain becomes even more intense. It feels like my chest is going to crack open. After about 20 minutes of me writhing around the house and crying, Matt decides it is time to take me the hospital. Just as we pull into emergency the pain ceases. I feel completely drained and am broken out in sweat. We decide I should go in anyway.
Presenting to emergency at 8am on a Sunday night is not ideal - unless one is actually dying. It is busy. We aren't urgent now the pain has ceased it looks like I shouldn't even be there. We wait. Nearly four hours later a doctor can see me. She gets me on the bed and feels around my abdomen. We discuss all the IVF dates the type of pain and other symptoms like sweating and nausea. She orders blood tests and xrays and asks me to head back out into the waiting area. An hour later I'm called back in and am seen quickly by the head doctor and sent off with a diagnosis of reflux and with instructions to take some mylanta next time I experience the pain.
Turns out I wouldn't have to wait long to experience the pain again. The following week our entire team was going away for a two day conference at Caloundra. As soon as I finished lunch on day 1 I felt the beginning of the symptoms with which I was now becoming familiar. I didn't have any mylanta on me, so I asked one of my colleagues to drive me to a chemist. By the time we got to the chemist I was in the full swing of the pain. My chest felt like it was going to split in half and while I felt like a could vomit I knew I wouldn't. The double strength mylanta does nothing. We go over to the doctor's surgery that is in the centre, they say we should go to the hospital. My colleague gets some quick instructions and a map and we are on our way.
In the car the pain eases and then increases again. I ring Matt to tell him it is happening again. It seems worse than ever. When we get to the hospital I'm a mess of sweat, but my pain has eased a little. The triage nurse asks me to rate my pain, I only grade it a 6. She takes some quick vitals. All of a sudden the pain is getting more intense. I bump up my pain number to 8 and a half. By now I'm groaning and I can't stand or sit still. I can't get comfortable. I hold my chest and rock. The triage nurse brings me some tablets and tells me to calm down - I think that is because of the groaning. My poor work colleague is back on the phone to my husband and filling in the admission forms, digging in my purse for my medicare cards.
Soon enough I'm the emergency ward and being asked to drink a 'pink lady' - a disgusting, thick pink drink. The nurse is sure I have reflux - I'm thinking you've got to be kidding this cannot be reflux.
I'm in a bed, the needles are going in, blood going out, and at last the good drugs are being administered. It took two IV shots of something to finally bring the pain down to the point that I could start talking normally. A doctor comes to see me and ask lots of questions about the pain - in particular is it squeezing type pain. I'm not sure. It is really hard to describe my own pain. The doctor sends me for an ultrasound of my abdomen. The sonographer tells me my gallbladder has stones, but so do a huge percentage of the population, and that it looks fine to her.
Back in the ward the doctor comes to see me again, he seems to think it is reflux, and then he is away again. My pain is now completely gone and I'm told I will be discharged soon. Matt is on his way up to Caloundra, he was planning to either pick me up, or stay at the hotel I was supposed to be in for work if I had to stay longer in hospital.
Just as Matt gets there the doctor comes over and tells me he thinks it is my gallbladder and that he wants me to make an appointment with my GP to referred to a surgeon. I'm discharged with my letter to my GP and prescription for a hard core pain killers. The emergency doctor advises me to take the pain killers with me always and if I really want to prevent further episodes to cut fats from diet.
It turns out that heightened oestrogen levels created through the IVF cycle, plus my weight loss, conspired to cause my gallbladder malfunction. My surgeon tells me gallbladders often play up during pregnancy and given that is what I'm trying to achieve that I should just get it out as quickly as possible, so we can get on with the IVF.
Once the problem is diagnosed it didn't take long to get it tended to. Instead of doing my second round of IVF, within a couple of weeks I was scheduled for surgery, my second laparoscopy for 2011.
On 19 July I said farewell to my gallbladder and within a couple of weeks I was talking to my fertility specialist to discuss when I could do my first frozen embryo transfer.
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
Tuesday, September 27, 2011
Full IVF cycle part 3 - the big days
Given that I have an laparoscopic surgery in February, that involved actual incisions in my body, the idea of being knocked out while the doctor needles me a number of times to suck out my eggs seems pretty low key.
I roll in to the day theatres an hour or so before I'm due to have the egg pick up procedure. I'm given my hospital gown, slippers, hair net and undies and a plastic bag to put my normal clothes in. I get into the hospital gear and am lead into a communal lounge room, all the while carrying around my personal possessions in my plastic bag.
The anesthetist leads me to a pre op consult room and proceeds to scare the bejesus out of me about all the things that can go wrong under general and then asks me to sign a disclaimer that states I've been advised of the dangers. My fertility specialist then comes in and asks if I've got any questions. He has the complete opposite effect to the scary anesthetist. I feel calmed and excited at the same time.
I walk myself, towing my plastic bag of personal possessions, into the theatre. My personal possessions are put on a trolley in the corner and I jump up on the bed.
While I've been preparing for my procedure, Matt has been preparing his own contribution. After much consideration, he had decided he would be able to provide his specimen at the hospital, meaning it would be done close to the exact time required. When I was lead off to get changed Matt was walking down a hallway with a brown bag of hospital porn dvds and a sterile jar.
As I'm getting comfortable on the theatre bed the room is filling up. There must be 6 or so people in there, the only 2 I know are my fertility specialist and the scary anesthetist. A scientist introduces themselves and advises they have Matt's specimen and that it was excellent. She tells me in the labs Matt has been declared 'stud of the day'. I laugh and say Matt is going to love that. My doctor is laughing too. Scary anesthetist hasn't cracked a smile. My fertility specialist says I shouldn't tell him as it will go straight to his head.
Next thing the anesthetist is saying 'a little sting' and I'm off to sleep.
I wake up in the recovery ward with my plastic bag of possessions on the bed beside me. After a half hour I'm up and racing, well as racing as one can be when they have ovaries the size of oranges. I change back into my own clothes and head to the communal recovery lounge. Matt arrives pretty soon after. We learn the procedure has picked up 14 eggs and Matt learns he was 'stud of the day'.
We head home just a couple of hours after we arrive. I'm a bit steady, having many of the hyperstimulation symptoms, but I'm operational.
The next day our fertility specialist rings to tell us that of our 14 eggs an incredible 11 have fertilised and that embryo transfer will go ahead as planned the following day.
On the day of the embryo transfer the embryo lab call me and say I have 11 embryos, all either grade 3 or 4 (on a 5 point scale with 5 being the highest). Some of 4 cells, some are only 2 cells. Basically, this is awesome. I have a lot of really good quality embryos to choose from. I let them know to pick the best looking one to be transferred back in.
Throughout the IVF process you are reminded about natural attrition. My specialist has advised me that every step usually only 50 - 70% progress. Therefore, of 14 eggs, I'd hoped at least 10 would fertilise. I hoped we would have 6 viable embryos at the end of the full cycle. To have 11 embryos, and of such high quality, was exceptional.
Matt and I head back into the hospital where we both suit up into the medical gear. For the transfers the husbands/partners are invited to come into the theatre. We head in together and I jump back up on the bed. Matt takes a seat in the well placed husband's chair so he can hold my hand but not see the medical component.
Transfers are basically painless although they are a little embarrassing. No anesthetic is required and it is all over in a matter of minutes however, one does have to bare all. Modesty is not a helpful quality when it comes to embryo transfers.
Afterwards we get changed and rest for about a half an hour in the recovery lounge. The first half hour of two weeks of waiting before we will know if the physical and emotional roller coaster of the injecting, tablets, pessaries, bloating, nausea, scary anesthetists, blood tests, prodding and scanning delivers the result we are hoping for.
I roll in to the day theatres an hour or so before I'm due to have the egg pick up procedure. I'm given my hospital gown, slippers, hair net and undies and a plastic bag to put my normal clothes in. I get into the hospital gear and am lead into a communal lounge room, all the while carrying around my personal possessions in my plastic bag.
The anesthetist leads me to a pre op consult room and proceeds to scare the bejesus out of me about all the things that can go wrong under general and then asks me to sign a disclaimer that states I've been advised of the dangers. My fertility specialist then comes in and asks if I've got any questions. He has the complete opposite effect to the scary anesthetist. I feel calmed and excited at the same time.
I walk myself, towing my plastic bag of personal possessions, into the theatre. My personal possessions are put on a trolley in the corner and I jump up on the bed.
While I've been preparing for my procedure, Matt has been preparing his own contribution. After much consideration, he had decided he would be able to provide his specimen at the hospital, meaning it would be done close to the exact time required. When I was lead off to get changed Matt was walking down a hallway with a brown bag of hospital porn dvds and a sterile jar.
As I'm getting comfortable on the theatre bed the room is filling up. There must be 6 or so people in there, the only 2 I know are my fertility specialist and the scary anesthetist. A scientist introduces themselves and advises they have Matt's specimen and that it was excellent. She tells me in the labs Matt has been declared 'stud of the day'. I laugh and say Matt is going to love that. My doctor is laughing too. Scary anesthetist hasn't cracked a smile. My fertility specialist says I shouldn't tell him as it will go straight to his head.
Next thing the anesthetist is saying 'a little sting' and I'm off to sleep.
I wake up in the recovery ward with my plastic bag of possessions on the bed beside me. After a half hour I'm up and racing, well as racing as one can be when they have ovaries the size of oranges. I change back into my own clothes and head to the communal recovery lounge. Matt arrives pretty soon after. We learn the procedure has picked up 14 eggs and Matt learns he was 'stud of the day'.
We head home just a couple of hours after we arrive. I'm a bit steady, having many of the hyperstimulation symptoms, but I'm operational.
The next day our fertility specialist rings to tell us that of our 14 eggs an incredible 11 have fertilised and that embryo transfer will go ahead as planned the following day.
On the day of the embryo transfer the embryo lab call me and say I have 11 embryos, all either grade 3 or 4 (on a 5 point scale with 5 being the highest). Some of 4 cells, some are only 2 cells. Basically, this is awesome. I have a lot of really good quality embryos to choose from. I let them know to pick the best looking one to be transferred back in.
Throughout the IVF process you are reminded about natural attrition. My specialist has advised me that every step usually only 50 - 70% progress. Therefore, of 14 eggs, I'd hoped at least 10 would fertilise. I hoped we would have 6 viable embryos at the end of the full cycle. To have 11 embryos, and of such high quality, was exceptional.
Matt and I head back into the hospital where we both suit up into the medical gear. For the transfers the husbands/partners are invited to come into the theatre. We head in together and I jump back up on the bed. Matt takes a seat in the well placed husband's chair so he can hold my hand but not see the medical component.
Transfers are basically painless although they are a little embarrassing. No anesthetic is required and it is all over in a matter of minutes however, one does have to bare all. Modesty is not a helpful quality when it comes to embryo transfers.
Afterwards we get changed and rest for about a half an hour in the recovery lounge. The first half hour of two weeks of waiting before we will know if the physical and emotional roller coaster of the injecting, tablets, pessaries, bloating, nausea, scary anesthetists, blood tests, prodding and scanning delivers the result we are hoping for.
Tuesday, August 30, 2011
Full IVF cycle part 2
When starting IVF I thought it would be a simple case of complete step 1, step 2 and step 3 and ta da here are your embryos.
What I've learned is that like all of our bodies are different on the outside, they are also different on the inside. When it comes to faking your body into a hyper fertile state, there are so many variables and each fertility specialist has a different approach and drug regime to try and get you to reach an appropriate level of hyper fertility.
In addition to following the prescribed drug regime, there is a stack of monitoring. Monitoring involves blood tests and ultra sounds to ensure hormones are increasing appropriately and that the all important follicles are developing.
My daily injection is going fine, as it turns out I'm a professional. The monitoring is showing that each ovary is developing 5 or 6 follicles of about equal size. This is really good news. The follicles need to be developed to certain size for the eggs that come out of them to be mature. My doctor said that my body is doing exactly as it is supposed to do and wishes all his patients were as well behaved.
Some women have the case where early monitoring shows they don't have enough follicles, so their injection medication level is increased - however this can lead to follicles that develop late, and therefore are not mature by the time eggs are harvested.
I keep doing what I'm doing. I'm injecting at just after 7am and getting blood tests and scans as instructed. Finally my doctor tells me my follicles are all the right size and it time to do the 'trigger' shot.
The trigger shot is the hormone that tells your body OVULATE. Apparently after this shot it takes about 37 hours to ovulate. Therefore, about 36 hours after you do this final injection it is important that you are having the eggs harvested from the follicle.
The doctor tells me I'm booked for a 2pm egg pick up on Wednesday, this means that at 1am on Tuesday morning I need to wake up and give myself an injection. Clearly this timing thing is a little confusing. The doctor tells me, that is like Monday night you need set the alarm - it is really important that I get the timing right.
Given my policy on anything that will increase my chances of IVF success is on the to do list, I was awake at 12.45 am on Tuesday prepping the injection (that this time isn't in one of the easy to administer epipens). Once I administer the injection I'm straight back to sleep.
The next two days are great. No drugs at all. After 4+ weeks of nasal sprays and 2+ weeks of daily injections a two day drug break is a luxury. The break also means the business end of the IVF cycle is around the corner.
What I've learned is that like all of our bodies are different on the outside, they are also different on the inside. When it comes to faking your body into a hyper fertile state, there are so many variables and each fertility specialist has a different approach and drug regime to try and get you to reach an appropriate level of hyper fertility.
In addition to following the prescribed drug regime, there is a stack of monitoring. Monitoring involves blood tests and ultra sounds to ensure hormones are increasing appropriately and that the all important follicles are developing.
My daily injection is going fine, as it turns out I'm a professional. The monitoring is showing that each ovary is developing 5 or 6 follicles of about equal size. This is really good news. The follicles need to be developed to certain size for the eggs that come out of them to be mature. My doctor said that my body is doing exactly as it is supposed to do and wishes all his patients were as well behaved.
Some women have the case where early monitoring shows they don't have enough follicles, so their injection medication level is increased - however this can lead to follicles that develop late, and therefore are not mature by the time eggs are harvested.
I keep doing what I'm doing. I'm injecting at just after 7am and getting blood tests and scans as instructed. Finally my doctor tells me my follicles are all the right size and it time to do the 'trigger' shot.
The trigger shot is the hormone that tells your body OVULATE. Apparently after this shot it takes about 37 hours to ovulate. Therefore, about 36 hours after you do this final injection it is important that you are having the eggs harvested from the follicle.
The doctor tells me I'm booked for a 2pm egg pick up on Wednesday, this means that at 1am on Tuesday morning I need to wake up and give myself an injection. Clearly this timing thing is a little confusing. The doctor tells me, that is like Monday night you need set the alarm - it is really important that I get the timing right.
Given my policy on anything that will increase my chances of IVF success is on the to do list, I was awake at 12.45 am on Tuesday prepping the injection (that this time isn't in one of the easy to administer epipens). Once I administer the injection I'm straight back to sleep.
The next two days are great. No drugs at all. After 4+ weeks of nasal sprays and 2+ weeks of daily injections a two day drug break is a luxury. The break also means the business end of the IVF cycle is around the corner.
Wednesday, August 3, 2011
The year of medical interventions IVF part 1
I've been completely cheating on the blog. It is funny what comes out of the wood work with friends, family and strangers when you start writing some of your inner most thoughts and publishing them for anyone to read. In April I was hit by a few comments that led me to decide to take a break from the blog.
A lot has happened since I last blogged and I thought it was worth getting back to publishing.
May and June were all about IVF. I hoped July would be about first trimester musings, but as it turned out July was all about my gallbladder.
It will take me a few posts to catch up on everything. In case you have been wondering my first IVF cycle was unsuccessful in the sense that I still do not have a bun in the oven. On the other hand, the cycle was very successful in creating multiple viable embryos (essential for future attempts at achieving pregnancy) and for improving my mental health, where for the first time in a long time, achieving pregnancy seems imminent and therefore an overarching panic about not being pregnant has diminished.
In late May I left the fertility specialist's office with my very own cooler bag, filled with legal drugs in their own epipens for easy administration. I remember as I stood at the lift thinking 'I can't believe it has come to this'. It was overwhelming to think that now my conception chances were all about injections and nasal sprays, and not intercourse.
It just felt so unnatural. All those ingrained ideas and fears float around my mind. Perhaps as some suggest I am only a holiday and a bottle of wine away from getting up the duff (which for the record, I would like to state did not work on all attempts tried). Even worse I get all martyrish and think perhaps if you can't have children naturally maybe I'm not supposed to. And worse again I start thinking perhaps I'll finally get to have a baby, suffer from relentless post-natal depression, hate the baby and wish I had remained childless.
I sneak the drugs back into the office and hide them in the fridge on another floor of our office in an attempt to avoid any questions and try to conceal that I am doing IVF from my colleagues (ironic given that I write and publish a blog for anyone to read). Back at my desk for the afternoon I am distracted by continually reminding myself to not forget drugs in upstairs fridge. Must remember drugs, must remember drugs, that design looks good, must remember drugs upstairs.
Thankfully I remember the drugs when I'm leaving and get them home safely and into my own fridge. By this stage, I've already been taking a nasal spray for about a 2-weeks and I've had 1 blood test, just to make sure all my hormones are where they should be if the nasal spray is working. Tick - all go for commencing injections.
A few weeks ago Matt and I sat through a 90 minute session with an IVF clinic nurse in which we were shown how to administer all the different drugs. My doctor also has made me use one of the epipens in his rooms. He makes me dial up the dosage and over the bin I push down on the end of the epipen, hold for 10 seconds to witness how the release of drugs is a little delayed. When I get home I put my drugs in the fridge and find they've come with another DVD with instructions. I tell myself 'must watch instructional DVD to ensure correct procedure is followed, therefore increasing eggs produced and all chance of IVF success'.
In fact everything I'm doing at this point was about increasing chances of IVF success. Must not drink wine to increase chance of IVF success. Must exercise and eat well to loose weight to increase chance of IVF success (fertility specialist had again mentioned that any amount of weight loss would help, even 2 - 3 kg - which I decided was achievable and as would increase chance of IVF success was on the to do list!). Must get 8 hours sleep to help stay relaxed and stress free to help chance of IVF success. Must take multi vitamin, pre-conception vitamin, iron tablet and fish oil to increase chance of IVF success.
The next morning I have my set time for injecting. I have to pick a time that I can consistently meet everyday, including weekends, workdays, potential flights. I pick just after 7am as the most achievable consistent time for 10 - 16 days of injections. By this time I realise I don't have enough time to watch the instructional DVD (should have done so night before) and blowing caution to the wind proceed with first injection. I was extremely pleased with the ease of injection and zero pain and decide no longer need to watch DVD as clearly I'm a professional already.
A lot has happened since I last blogged and I thought it was worth getting back to publishing.
May and June were all about IVF. I hoped July would be about first trimester musings, but as it turned out July was all about my gallbladder.
It will take me a few posts to catch up on everything. In case you have been wondering my first IVF cycle was unsuccessful in the sense that I still do not have a bun in the oven. On the other hand, the cycle was very successful in creating multiple viable embryos (essential for future attempts at achieving pregnancy) and for improving my mental health, where for the first time in a long time, achieving pregnancy seems imminent and therefore an overarching panic about not being pregnant has diminished.
In late May I left the fertility specialist's office with my very own cooler bag, filled with legal drugs in their own epipens for easy administration. I remember as I stood at the lift thinking 'I can't believe it has come to this'. It was overwhelming to think that now my conception chances were all about injections and nasal sprays, and not intercourse.
It just felt so unnatural. All those ingrained ideas and fears float around my mind. Perhaps as some suggest I am only a holiday and a bottle of wine away from getting up the duff (which for the record, I would like to state did not work on all attempts tried). Even worse I get all martyrish and think perhaps if you can't have children naturally maybe I'm not supposed to. And worse again I start thinking perhaps I'll finally get to have a baby, suffer from relentless post-natal depression, hate the baby and wish I had remained childless.
I sneak the drugs back into the office and hide them in the fridge on another floor of our office in an attempt to avoid any questions and try to conceal that I am doing IVF from my colleagues (ironic given that I write and publish a blog for anyone to read). Back at my desk for the afternoon I am distracted by continually reminding myself to not forget drugs in upstairs fridge. Must remember drugs, must remember drugs, that design looks good, must remember drugs upstairs.
Thankfully I remember the drugs when I'm leaving and get them home safely and into my own fridge. By this stage, I've already been taking a nasal spray for about a 2-weeks and I've had 1 blood test, just to make sure all my hormones are where they should be if the nasal spray is working. Tick - all go for commencing injections.
A few weeks ago Matt and I sat through a 90 minute session with an IVF clinic nurse in which we were shown how to administer all the different drugs. My doctor also has made me use one of the epipens in his rooms. He makes me dial up the dosage and over the bin I push down on the end of the epipen, hold for 10 seconds to witness how the release of drugs is a little delayed. When I get home I put my drugs in the fridge and find they've come with another DVD with instructions. I tell myself 'must watch instructional DVD to ensure correct procedure is followed, therefore increasing eggs produced and all chance of IVF success'.
In fact everything I'm doing at this point was about increasing chances of IVF success. Must not drink wine to increase chance of IVF success. Must exercise and eat well to loose weight to increase chance of IVF success (fertility specialist had again mentioned that any amount of weight loss would help, even 2 - 3 kg - which I decided was achievable and as would increase chance of IVF success was on the to do list!). Must get 8 hours sleep to help stay relaxed and stress free to help chance of IVF success. Must take multi vitamin, pre-conception vitamin, iron tablet and fish oil to increase chance of IVF success.
The next morning I have my set time for injecting. I have to pick a time that I can consistently meet everyday, including weekends, workdays, potential flights. I pick just after 7am as the most achievable consistent time for 10 - 16 days of injections. By this time I realise I don't have enough time to watch the instructional DVD (should have done so night before) and blowing caution to the wind proceed with first injection. I was extremely pleased with the ease of injection and zero pain and decide no longer need to watch DVD as clearly I'm a professional already.
Monday, April 25, 2011
Diagnosis delivered
The diagnosis - idiopathic infertility, or unexplained infertility. Does it make me feel any better? No. However it also doesn't make me feel any worse. For the first time in some months I'm feeling quite excited about my infertility because we've been recommended to undergo in vitro fertilisation - IVF.
Initially I was a bit shocked when I attended my post-surgery follow up that my specialist recommended we move quickly into IVF. I'd geared myself for moving onto intra-uterine insemination (aka the medical turkey baster) for the next few months, before moving into IVF if that was unsuccessful. But then the doctor started showing me all the scary charts and percentages of conception and live birth at my age.
I turn 36 in July. All things fertility have been declining since I was 25 and basically after 38 things start going rapidly downhill in fertility terms. So my specialist, who is clearly a pretty clever guy, is already thinking about my chances of having a second child if we keep taking the less invasive path.
IVF involves stimulating the hormones that make women create an egg, while suppressing the hormone that makes the body actually ovulate the egg. This means a woman can mature a lot more eggs than in a natural cycle. These eggs are then harvested and fertilised in fancy little dishes. I will have my very own embryo technician who will monitor the embryo development and advise how many - if any - are looking good for transfer back into my uterus or to freeze for later use.
It means a lot of cash out and a lot of drugs in. Yay! I get to inject them myself too. Double yay!
The treatment gets underway soon, starting with two weeks of nasal sprays to suppress the creation of the hormones that make the mature egg ovulate. If all goes to plan I expect we will be undergoing the egg harvest and embryo transplant in late May or early June.
Once the embryo gets transferred back in there is two weeks to wait before we know if I am pregnant. Unfortunately given our history, there is then another 2-3 weeks to wait before we can have a scan to see if the baby is developing normally and in the right location.
I'm excited about the possibility of it working. And I really hope it does.
As for my ectopic pregnancy, the lab tests of my fallopian tube confirmed I definitely had a pregnancy in my fallopian tube. I also had a 2cm serous cystadenoma. A non-cancerous growth that really shouldn't be there. I'm not sure if the growth caused the tubal pregnancy or not, but either way that was the outcome.
The ectopic pregnancy is behind me now. My eyes are firmly fixed on the next step.
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
Post surgery blues and brightness
It's been two and a half weeks since the surgery to remove my left fallopian tube, with ectopic pregnancy. I'm lucky they could perform the surgery laparoscopically, which means I don't have any big wounds. My doctor explained to me before I went in for surgery that because I have a little extra padding (yes, that's what he said) that it may not be possible for him to perform the surgery safely laparoscopically. If he couldn't it would have meant much more invasive surgery, a longer hospital stay and more painful recovery. So when I came out of surgery, I was pleased to find out laparoscopic surgery was possible.
I only had an overnight stay in hospital. By the time I got out of surgery and came to, it was late at night. Matt was waiting for me in the hospital room. The doctor had called him to let him know all had gone well through the surgery. I was zonked out, so Matt went home.
The whole process was very stressful him. My sister had visited in the hospital before the surgery and had organised for Matt to have dinner with her and wait at her place, which is only 1km from the hospital. Matt told me he was okay while he was with my sister and Aunty, but when he went on his own to pick up dinner, negative thoughts started to creep in. Surgery is inherently dangerous and Matt was worried something might happen to me.
Even with just three small wounds I did have a lot of pain for the week after the surgery. I had terrible bruising around my belly button (where the biggest cut is made) and on my arm from the anesthetist but by week two things were settling down. I still get a little twinge from time to time and I still have stitches. My anesthetist may have been rough with the needles, but he was also very generous with the post surgery drugs! He sent me home with the good gear which lead to a few zippy afternoons jumped up on prescription drugs.
As I entered the second week of my recovery I started to take less less pain killers and as I came out of the drug haze feelings of sadness overwhelmed me. I remember how devastated I was when we lost our first pregnancy and the sadness I am feeling this time around is very different. It is sadness about everything, I'm sad to still not have a child. I am sad about how hard it has all been. I am sad that I can't keep up with my work anymore and that for the first time in my life I've had to ask for some leniency as I step up my fertility treatments. I was just so sad.
Coming into week three the sadness is under control and I'm starting to get excited about the next step in our fertility treatments. I am hoping that having recently managed a natural pregnancy - that perhaps our chances will be better with a little medical assistance.
I only had an overnight stay in hospital. By the time I got out of surgery and came to, it was late at night. Matt was waiting for me in the hospital room. The doctor had called him to let him know all had gone well through the surgery. I was zonked out, so Matt went home.
The whole process was very stressful him. My sister had visited in the hospital before the surgery and had organised for Matt to have dinner with her and wait at her place, which is only 1km from the hospital. Matt told me he was okay while he was with my sister and Aunty, but when he went on his own to pick up dinner, negative thoughts started to creep in. Surgery is inherently dangerous and Matt was worried something might happen to me.
Even with just three small wounds I did have a lot of pain for the week after the surgery. I had terrible bruising around my belly button (where the biggest cut is made) and on my arm from the anesthetist but by week two things were settling down. I still get a little twinge from time to time and I still have stitches. My anesthetist may have been rough with the needles, but he was also very generous with the post surgery drugs! He sent me home with the good gear which lead to a few zippy afternoons jumped up on prescription drugs.
As I entered the second week of my recovery I started to take less less pain killers and as I came out of the drug haze feelings of sadness overwhelmed me. I remember how devastated I was when we lost our first pregnancy and the sadness I am feeling this time around is very different. It is sadness about everything, I'm sad to still not have a child. I am sad about how hard it has all been. I am sad that I can't keep up with my work anymore and that for the first time in my life I've had to ask for some leniency as I step up my fertility treatments. I was just so sad.
Coming into week three the sadness is under control and I'm starting to get excited about the next step in our fertility treatments. I am hoping that having recently managed a natural pregnancy - that perhaps our chances will be better with a little medical assistance.
Thursday, March 3, 2011
Pregnancy prognosis - written about 25 February
On Friday morning I leap out of bed at 6am to swallow down a quick breakfast and then go back to bed for the 30 minute progesterone medication wait, now known in our household as tea and toast (despite Matthew never having prepared my tea and toast!)
My pelvic scan isn't until 10am, and I have to drink a litre of water from 8.30 - 9.00am. But before this I need to duck into town to get my blood test. Matt has taken the day off from work to drive me around and really, just in case I do need to go into surgery.
We run into town at 7.30am. Matt grabs a quick coffee while I race in for the blood test. We get home in time for me to start drinking my litre of water. It takes about half an hour and I need to pee....but I can't!! By the time we leave here at 9.20 to get to the hospital and find a park, I am in agony. I think I am going to pee my pants. It takes us a good five minutes to find the women's diagnostic centre. I tell the receptionist about my 1 litre consumption and that I don't think I can hold it. She tells me I can go to the loo, count to 10 and then stop. Oh my! That was the best 10 seconds I've ever spent on the loo. I was impressed with my restraint and just how much relief I got from the short pee.
When I get back to the counter Matt and the receptionist have figured out my appointment is with the regular Queensland Xray centre. We find our way there and wait. By 10.15 I was busting again. What can I do? I go to the new receptionist and ask permission to pee again! This time I've got a 5 second count limit.
Finally I get into the ultra sound room where the sonographer does an internal and external scan. As he is scanning he isn't saying too much. Eventually he finds the spot that lead to the referral. He explains it does look suspect and starts pushing and prodding in the area and it hurts! I get dressed and the sonographer tells me the result it isn't certain. He is going to have a radiographer take a look at the pictures and the report will be with my doctor in an hour or so.
Matt and I wait for images to be ready and head home to wait for a call from the doctor with the verdict. We figure we've got time to kill so we stop and rent a couple of videos to try and take our mind off everything. Once home we settle into the couch. It was only about 15 minutes into the movie when the phone rang. The doctor already has the report. He asks if the sonographer gave me the result, I explain he was sitting on the fence. The doctor tells me the report says I've got a highly suspect 2cm growth in the tube, which they believe in that clinical setting is an ectopic pregnancy.
Yesterday the doctor had explained to me that ectopic pregnancies can be life threatening. If they rupture they can cause you to bleed out into your stomach. Needless to say, the doctor is keen to prevent any of this and asks me to be at the hospital and checked in by 2pm for immediate surgery. I need to pack an overnight bag as it is likely that I'll be in hospital overnight to make sure I'm okay after surgery.
We decide it's time for us to ring our family and let them all know. I start getting a bag packed. I have to ring work and let them know that I will out of the office for a week or more. It is like a whirlwind and we are back in the car and headed back to the hospital.
I'm sad. Matt's sad too. But I'm also glad it's over. No more uncertainty.
My pelvic scan isn't until 10am, and I have to drink a litre of water from 8.30 - 9.00am. But before this I need to duck into town to get my blood test. Matt has taken the day off from work to drive me around and really, just in case I do need to go into surgery.
We run into town at 7.30am. Matt grabs a quick coffee while I race in for the blood test. We get home in time for me to start drinking my litre of water. It takes about half an hour and I need to pee....but I can't!! By the time we leave here at 9.20 to get to the hospital and find a park, I am in agony. I think I am going to pee my pants. It takes us a good five minutes to find the women's diagnostic centre. I tell the receptionist about my 1 litre consumption and that I don't think I can hold it. She tells me I can go to the loo, count to 10 and then stop. Oh my! That was the best 10 seconds I've ever spent on the loo. I was impressed with my restraint and just how much relief I got from the short pee.
When I get back to the counter Matt and the receptionist have figured out my appointment is with the regular Queensland Xray centre. We find our way there and wait. By 10.15 I was busting again. What can I do? I go to the new receptionist and ask permission to pee again! This time I've got a 5 second count limit.
Finally I get into the ultra sound room where the sonographer does an internal and external scan. As he is scanning he isn't saying too much. Eventually he finds the spot that lead to the referral. He explains it does look suspect and starts pushing and prodding in the area and it hurts! I get dressed and the sonographer tells me the result it isn't certain. He is going to have a radiographer take a look at the pictures and the report will be with my doctor in an hour or so.
Matt and I wait for images to be ready and head home to wait for a call from the doctor with the verdict. We figure we've got time to kill so we stop and rent a couple of videos to try and take our mind off everything. Once home we settle into the couch. It was only about 15 minutes into the movie when the phone rang. The doctor already has the report. He asks if the sonographer gave me the result, I explain he was sitting on the fence. The doctor tells me the report says I've got a highly suspect 2cm growth in the tube, which they believe in that clinical setting is an ectopic pregnancy.
Yesterday the doctor had explained to me that ectopic pregnancies can be life threatening. If they rupture they can cause you to bleed out into your stomach. Needless to say, the doctor is keen to prevent any of this and asks me to be at the hospital and checked in by 2pm for immediate surgery. I need to pack an overnight bag as it is likely that I'll be in hospital overnight to make sure I'm okay after surgery.
We decide it's time for us to ring our family and let them all know. I start getting a bag packed. I have to ring work and let them know that I will out of the office for a week or more. It is like a whirlwind and we are back in the car and headed back to the hospital.
I'm sad. Matt's sad too. But I'm also glad it's over. No more uncertainty.
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