Archives for the month of: July, 2012

*WARNING! POST CONTAINS PICTURES OF TEENY TINY LAPAROSCOPY INCISIONS!*

I peeled off my steristrips today to see what was hiding under there. It’s the first time I’ve seen the visible results of the laparoscopy.

The marks are frigging tiny! Here’s a picture!

So small! In other news, I think I may be allergic to steristrips…

The stitches under my belly button are a lot grosser, but still not anywhere near as gross as I’d thought they’d be. I’ve had stitches before: my forehead, under my chin…I was expecting Frankenstein stitches , as per usual. These are barely stitches.

I feel great. I was outside weeding our back garden today and was thinking about where I was a week ago. I was so nervous about this procedure, and didn’t know what lay ahead in terms of pain, outcomes, etc. If I could talk to my former self, I’d say, “Self? It’s no big whoop”. Because it wasn’t. Now I’m just crossing everything that my innards have sorted themselves out and all systems are go. If I get pregnant this cycle, it will be small miracle because:

a) I have not had an ounce of ovary stimulating wonder pills this month;

b) Today’s cycle day 17 and the first day we’re givin’ it a whirl since the surgery; and

c) As if I could get pregnant by just having sex. HA!

Here’s what’s happening in my life that has NOTHING TO DO WITH BABY MAKING OR THE INABILITY TO MAKE A BABY (yes, other things are actually happening!):

I booked a flight to go to England with my mum next week. I am a proud first generation Canadian, with parents who emigrated here soon after being married. They left behind their families in search of an adventure. I can’t even imagine doing that, much to my mother’s delight. She still sometimes gives me a hard time about living an hour and a half away. I don’t bring up the fact that she moved to another continent…

Anyway, I spent most of my summers growing up in England, and have managed to get over there every couple of years since being a financially independent adult. I have 2 grandmothers there, as well as uncles, aunts, and cousins. The trips are never very eventful, but they’re satisfying. Vicky from the Real Housewives of Orange County talks about her “love tank”, and while what she’s describing is a romantic love tank, I understand what she’s talking about and the need to replenish it every now and then. Mine is a family love tank, and I need steady doses of my grandmother to keep it full.

I spoke with her on the phone today, and she sounded pretty awful. She’s battling a chest infection and was really hoarse. I haven’t been able to speak with my grandmother for a few weeks now, as every time I’d hang up the phone, I’d break down in sobbing tears. She just says things, y’know? She knows the struggles we’ve faced with all this infertility bullshit, and she wants nothing more than to hear I’m pregnant. Anyway, I guess my mum told my grandmother that I keep crying when I get off the phone with her, so she opened by saying, “I don’t want you to get upset…”, then proceeded to tell me that I need a break, and that there’s something in the air over there in England that is going to make my next phone call to her be the one where I tell her I’m expecting. I held it together. I didn’t get upset.

I asked her how she was doing, and told her she needed to get better. “I’ll be better when I see you and your mother”, she told me. This was before I had confirmed that I was coming, but that comment kind of sealed the deal. How could I not go after hearing that?

It will be a great trip, and much needed. I love traveling with my mum. We giggle on the plane together and go for coffee and scones when we’re there. I’m really looking forward to it.

-Leaving On A Jet Plane Regular Van.

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…3 to be exact.

I had my laparoscopy yesterday, and I have to say that it wasn’t that bad. I was really anxious about the IV because I had never had one before, but it was less painful than getting blood taken. Apparently, I have “dainty veins”, so the anesthesiologist thought it would have hurt me more. We were off to a good start!

Here’s how my day looked yesterday:

I arrived at the hospital at 6:30 AM, with a scheduled surgery time of 7:45 AM. I got to change into super comfy hospital clothes, which was awesome because I was exhausted from not really sleeping the night before. I met with a nurse who asked me a series of questions, went over the surgery with me, and then I went back to the waiting room to sit with J. Pretty soon after returning, I was called again, this time to get the show on the road. I went to a room with about 4 other patients, and we each sat in a partitioned section while we waited for our surgeon, our nurse, and our anesthesiologist to come and talk to us. It felt like a weird blind dating set up or something, with both sides not sure if they were approaching the right person. I felt relieved to see my surgeon, who is my doctor at the fertility clinic. It was just nice seeing a face I knew, and he was super friendly with me. The nurse was really nice, too, and she led me to the operating room, which was filled with people. There were probably 8 people in there. I kind of waved to everyone (really bizarre–what’s the protocol here?), and hopped up on the bed. The nurse kept talking to me, but everyone else started talking about me like I wasn’t there. The IV was inserted, I said how it hadn’t hurt at all, then I drifted off to sleep in like 20 seconds.

The next thing I knew, I was in another part of the hospital, and someone was putting an oxygen mask on me as I came to. When she took it off, I asked her if it was okay if I kept sleeping, which I did, and then a bit later they wheeled me off into the room I started off in, where I changed into the super comfy hospital clothes. I kept drifting in and out of sleep, and then they sent J in. I felt fine–no pain, no nausea, it was pretty comfortable. The nurses checked in on me every now and then, and eventually they brought me some apple juice, which went down just fine. My throat was really dry, so I had some more. Before I was allowed to leave, I had to try to pee, so getting out of bed was the first time it really hit me that I’d had an operation. It wasn’t super comfortable to get up and walk around, and peeing was no walk in the park, either. I guess I’d had a catheter up there, too, so it burned a little. Anyway, pee came out, so I got to go home.

They put me in a wheelchair while I waited for J to pull the car around, and that’s when the nausea hit me. I thought for sure I was going to puke there, and wanted nothing more than to get back into the bed (which had already been stripped of sheets and wheeled away). One of the nurses put a cold cloth on the back of my neck and a candy to suck on, and I was okay again. Someone wheeled me down to the car, and then I was on my way home.

I spent yesterday on the couch, still drifting in and out of sleep for most of the day. J was amazing, getting me whatever I needed and not letting me go to the washroom on my own.

The results of the laparoscopy: endometriosis was found and removed (stage 1–no big deal), both ovaries were drilled, and they discovered my left fallopian tube was actually blocked. This was shocking for my doctor, as the results of my HSG were that everything was clear. I guess the spot where it was blocked would have produced a clear-looking HSG result, but nothing was getting past that sucker. My doctor lasered it open, though he doesn’t know if it’s going to stay open. I guess he had talked to J about thinking initially there would have been a possibility to remove it (!!!), but thankfully it didn’t come to that.

Today I’m still popping Advil like it’s going out of style, but I’m up and about way more than yesterday. I’m a little afraid to look at my incision sites, and my belly button looks kind of oozy. Gross.

Anyway, that’s my update. I think my experience was a really good one. Hopefully this will help us out!

-Stitched Up Regular Van

So the decision has been made…surgery is going ahead on July 10th. If you’re following along, that means we’ve had another failed IUI cycle.

It’s been quiet on this little blog. End-of-year is always a crazy time, and it was kind of a blessing to have something so consuming to take up my time during this last 2-week wait. Others have written beautiful posts about how teachers feel at the end of the year (especially during a year of fertility treatments), but I just don’t have the energy to do that here. What I’ll say is that I adored my class this year. I will genuinely miss seeing them every day, and part of me was glad that I got to spend the whole year with them instead of having to go on a mat leave. They kept me going this year, and unknowingly cheered me up on some pretty dark days. They have no idea, but they kept me going during 6 months of infertility treatments, my own negative pregnancy tests, and pregnancy announcements from other teachers.

Our end-of-year staff party was more than a little painful. Just when one pregnant teacher decided it was time to leave, the other one showed up. Like, at exactly the same time. They hugged, to which a teacher shouted “Aww…belly hug!”. I downed 2 more glasses of champagne (we’re high rollers, apparently) and cursed them both under my breath.

Barf-o-rama.

Anyway, nothing exciting to report. Pre-op appointments are on Wednesday (there’s 2 of them, apparently), and then the slicing begins on the 10th. Did I mention this is the date of our 2nd wedding anniversary, and 2 days after my birthday?

Blah.

I’m on summer vacation now, officially, so I can’t be moaning too much. I’m reading “Quiet: The Power Of Introverts” when I’m not reading “Mockingjay”. It’s really interesting, and validates every single anti-social impulse I’ve ever had. Thank you, Susan Cain.

That’s all. What a boring post.

-Boring, boring, boring Regular Van.