….or, at least in part, Stupid Shit Miss Tasha Does. Or has going on in her life. In other words, the usual. Without further ado:
1. Don’t do this. What is “this” exactly? That would be reading an article in the New York Times about how anti-depressants are linked to all sorts of horrible birth defects in babies when their moms take them during pregnancy, and suddenly deciding okay then, I won’t take them anymore. Cold turkey. Thinking meh, what difference can it make? This is the super-low dosage of Celexa I started taking when I became a homicidal nutball while on Tamoxifen (known side effect of FatSurly), not that the circumstances matter, amirite? Right. Take those ADs, kids, it’s a good thing.
Anyway, then in a couple of days you find yourself with a large tanker truck pulling out in front of you, and not only do you lay on the horn into oblivion and wish death upon him, but you are also prepared to chase after him and pull him out of that truck and beat him to a pulp yourself. To a bloody carcass that even the crows wouldn’t deign to pick over.
Okay, so I’d probably do that anyway, so maybe that’s not the best example. Suffice it to say I quickly became a raving lunatic, and when I mentioned this to the wonderful Dr. Barbieri at ORM when I went in there for an appointment, she looked at me like I was insane. “You’re going back on them today, right?” Umm, yes. This was after I walked in there and told Sarah the JediMaster of blood draws that I was “in a mood.” Yeah, so, walking around feeling stabby all the time is perhaps not such a great idea, especially when you’re nowhere near pregnant. Wtf.
2. I’m not cancery enough. So this IVF shit is costing way more than the already high sum I had planned for. You first hear about it costing something like $8K, and you gasp and think holy shit that’s a lot of money, and then you get used to that. Then you get the estimate from your clinic and the deposit is $14K. Fuck. Then you have all the pre-testing that needs to be done, so that adds another $6K. Then you apply to be part of a discount program for the meds and they clearly don’t even look at your app before rejecting you, so the meds will cost around $7K. So you’re looking at about $35K for one cycle, and so you contact ORM to see if they have drug samples.
I had forgotten about the email I sent Hayley, my coordinator/physician’s assistant person at ORM, but she brings it up the next time I’m in.
Hayley: Oh, and I got your email, and those drugs if we get any, we save for cancer patients.
Me: Oh cool! I’m a cancer patient!
Hayley: Uh…heh heh…
Me: No really, cancer! Me!
Me, kind of talking to myself: Oh, I guess you mean those early-on cancer people who are saving eggs. Damn, I should have done that back then.
Hayley smiles brightly. “Okay then! So…..”
I have to see her that evening for a required class on how to give yourself the necessary shots, and in the interim it occurs to me that hey, maybe she doesn’t know about my cancer history. I had been working with a different PA at ORM, so Hayley wasn’t necessarily familiar with my whole record. Sure enough….
Me: So….just wondering, you do know about my cancer history, right?
Hayley: No, I had no idea! But then I realized you were serious so I looked it up..
Me: Okay, whew. Because I figured out afterwards that I probably sounded like a total asshole!
So at least we got that straightened out.
3. Cysts are assholes. Yes, I’ve been quiet about the whole IVF process because…..not a single fucking thing is happening at the moment. I went in last month for the baseline ultrasound to check things out before I’m supposed to start my shots, after taking other random fertility drugs for a couple of weeks. All systems go, right? Of course not.
(FYI, do NOT google images of "asshole cysts" looking for something cute and entertaining. Just. Don't. There, you were warned.)
Dr. Barbieri: Okay, so, we have the big cyst on the right, that’s been there for a long time…
Me: Right, it’s been hanging out, not bothering anyone….
Dr. Barbieri: ….and now there’s a cyst on the left side..
Me: What?? Where did that shithead come from?
Yes, it turns out we now have Shithead on the left side, and as opposed to the benign happy hanging-out right-side cyst, Shithead is feral and unruly, sitting there looking all menacing and in the way of my beautiful little follicles. Fuck! This means that we have to regroup and go to plan B to deal with this new cyst, which in this case means we wait for my next cycle to see if Shithead goes away. That’s where we are now. Tap tap tap.
In the meantime though we decide to take care of cyst on the right, yes, Mr. happy and easy-going and chill, essentially the Short Bus of cysts. How do we get rid of such things? It’s not fun. That’s up next.