Sunday, March 30, 2008


I use to ask "why me" - then I came to realize "why NOT me?" After this, I began to ask "when is it enough?"

If I could have had some way of measuring - of knowing the grieving, the trying, the losses were finite - I was sure I could endure it to its conclusion. Knowing what the requirements were I had to meet, a date - anything that meant I had met the definition of enough. Just being able to say - just one more step, one more tear, one more loss and you're done! I use to cry in my darkest hours "Is it enough yet? Is it enough?" Just when is it enough? I'm still trying to answer that question.

Once upon a time, I use to think that having a baby right away would make me feel all better. Whenever I had a miscarriage, I had this insatiable and overwhelming need to get pregnant again right away. All I could think about was attaining that next positive pregnancy test as soon as possible. One, I think to take advantage of my body being seemingly primed for at least getting pregnant (pragmatic) and two, because I still wanted very much what had motivated me to get pregnant in the first place (dramatic). I soon found that jumping right back on that horse again, didn't always provide the healing that I expected it would. My failure a bitter pill to swallow, the guilt that my inability was disappointing to not only myself, but other people, all consuming. Then, to succeed, to be faced with the living epitome of all my hopes and dreams - while incredible joy - was also a reality check to precisely what I had lost. Notwithstanding that each new pregnancy brought about the usual litany of fears and anxieties and risks yet again - turmoil I had to survive to get through the pregnancy. I would find myself grieving all over again - grieving for what I could now see in living color should have/could have been; even in my success I still mourned - not on the same level, but a degree of mourning nonetheless. I use to tell myself that my living children needed to outnumber my angel children - that when I attained that, I would quit for sure - whether through motivation or I actually believed this, I am uncertain. The number is unbalanced - but now I am able to live with that - one reason being not only have I realized that no one replaces another, I know this - deeply, personally, intimately. The other, more realistic reason - my body is crapping out on me. My heart perhaps not having made the determination yet it is enough, my body crying out "uncle!". Fact of the matter is, the end result will never be balanced - because I could never ever fully replace the one or the seven - no matter how many more living breathing babies I had, the number would never balance out the actual loss. While on one level I knew this - I sometimes wonder if the reason I pursued pregnancy so doggedly and repeatedly was because I was trying to fill the empty gaping hole that opens up in your heart when your dreams are thwarted. The problem with this being - each hole, each pregnancy that ended in disappointment and tears has its own little niche - a host of experiences and details all their own, brief perhaps, but no less individual - even if in just potential alone. The idea of one's heart being compartmentalized perhaps being too simplistic, and maybe even trite. The reality being, however - I could never choose one of my living children over the other - how could I do so with my angel babies? When right before me is proof of how unique each individual could be? Because one was here when one was not, didn't mean their place was any less assured and not held specifically for them - that they were wanted any less. Just because one path was not fully realized, doesn't mean that had that path continued further - it would have been any less splendid. In application though, sometimes I wonder if that was what I was trying to do - an unconscious subrogation through what I thought was simple determination to achieve my end goal of parenthood.

All things - good or bad - must come to an end someday and I find myself at an end, a new crossroads - not just saying it is enough, but finally, finally realizing - it is enough.

Thursday, March 27, 2008

Rumors of My Fanny's Worth May Have Been Greatly Exaggerated

Remember the Pharmaceutical Supply Company that made such a big stink about payment "up front"? They've been calling me. Two weeks after I made payment arrangements, wiped out our HRA and they shipped the injection - they are calling me, asking me when they are going to receive payment.

Now - this would be funny if it weren't so flipping annoying (not to mention had been so flipping expensive.) Also funnier still if I weren't fielding these idiotic phone calls while dealing with massive headaches from the silly injection in question. I don't remember annoying phone calls being on the insert in the section marked "Potential Side Effects".

I gave them the claim number and the dates the insurance processed the claim. I reminded them that they wouldn't even ship out the injection at all until I paid them. (two weeks ago) Reminded them they shipped the injection out. (two weeks ago). Six phone calls in 2 days (2 on my cellphone which I refused to pick up - not wasting minutes on morons). I regurgitated the same info multiple times. Details, Dates, Claim number . . . Details, Dates, Claim number . .. . Lather, rinse, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat . . . Not giving you any more and if you want it back, well that's a tough one. If you have a good process for extracting a $2000 injection from one's posterior - let me know. Otherwise, just call the insurance company and give them the claim number I gave you multiple times now and let them tell you how stupid you are, cause I really am tired of this. Perhaps you have become obsessed with how sexy my voice sounds when I am battling lupronheadachepalooza and sounding exasperated - but please, you're just really going to have to let it go. Perhaps there is someone at the insurance company you can transfer your strange obsession to. I'm not answering the phone anymore if it's you. Caller ID baby.

While going through this strangely unpleasant and frustrating exercise (because really, I do have nothing better to do all day long than to tell people how WRONG they are and I can do nothing to help relieve them of their current affliction) I also discovered that there was a significant amount of funds I paid out that was "above what was customary" according to our insurance. Because it was above customary, they didn't apply it to our deductible. We paid it, it doesn't count. At this rate, I will never meet my deductible. Lovely Insurance Games We Play for $400 Alex.

Though, this frustrating tale does have a somewhat happy ending. Because my advice was finally heeded and they turned their attentions to the insurance company - my insurance company set them on the road to rehabilitation. They also reminded the pharmaceutical bill collector from the 7th circle about customary charges. I got back the $400 "overcharge". The last phone call was somewhat apologetic and humbled sounding. Ohhh, were the big bad insurance guys mean to wittle diddums? Ohhhhh, did they make you give back the $400 you thought you could sneak past us? Sorry to break your heart buddy. NOT!

I am now however, trying to come to terms with only having a $1600 fanny as opposed to a $2000 one. Two grand just sounds ever so much more impressive.

Guess it really is true what they say - everything starts to depreciate the minute you drive it off the lot . . .

Monday, March 24, 2008

A March 23rd Not So Long Ago . . .

On a rainy March 23rd in 2005, my 12th pregnancy resulted in the birth of an 8 lb 12 oz boy. To our absolute surprise, we had conceived this little boy completely without the fertility drugs that I had to take in the past in order for me to ovulate - no follicle scans, no constant blood draws, no trigger shot. Not only had I become pregnant without all the additional help, I also did not miscarry. This would be the first time I had successful pgs back to back, typically miscarrying twice before being able to carry a pregnancy beyond the first trimester. I use to call it "priming the pump". I was in such disbelief that it could happen, I took 14 pregnancy tests over a period of almost 3 weeks - certain the tests were defective, or I was just imagining things. Sometimes past history is hard to ignore - being our first education to which we are disposed. The pregnancy was verified in my doctor's office at 8 weeks. I spent the next several weeks expecting each day to wake up to find it over. Happily this was not the case and yesterday this little unexpected bundle of joy turned three. For more of the celebration, please see my companion blog Desperate Mothering.

Could I Have That on the Side Please?

I first noticed it a week ago Sunday - I couldn't remember the name of a good friend. We're not talking casual acquaintance here, but honest to gosh good friend. Someone whose name I should know about as well as I know my own. Couldn't recall it for the world. Then it happened again just a few minutes later with the name of one of my own siblings. Someone I have known all their life! Initially I chalked it up to a bad day. I mean - I can't be expected to be mentally sharp every day of my life right?

Then I couldn't remember more names, my phone number (though - I really don't ever call myself, so maybe that is a bit forgivable?) , the name of the elementary school my son attends or that I usually start making dinner every night at 5 pm. I even forgot ages, birthdays and some of those were even my own. Whoops.

So, in the diary of side effects I have encountered in my so far brief experience with Lupron - I have become a moron, a space cadet, airhead (not the candy), and almost completely incoherent. Dumb with a capital "D". My conversations punctuated with "ummmmmms" and "uhhhhh" and "you know who" and "oh, what's her/his name, you know the one . . .?" "yes, my phone number is, ah, um - oh, it's 5, um, no 3 - yes, 3 and there's a 4 in there too and an 8, no wait, maybe that was a 6. Ah, crap." My kids laugh at me - because I sound funny. Mommy sounds funny. Mommy sounds crazy. Mommy IS crazy. I cannot complete an entire sentence. Which is also why I haven't been able to post the last several days. I start to write and it just isn't there. My brain is on vacation. I had several topics that I had been working on for potential posts and nada! So, my draft folder is full of useless fodder for numerous posts that will probably never see the light of day. And you dear gentle reader, are stuck with reading this.

Though - sounding like an idiot aside. I have to admit my favorite side effect du jour is the headache. Intense enough to almost hit migraine status, but only occurs if I lay down. So, as long as I remain in an upright position - no headache. Given that I have a love affair with my mattress and hold sleep as one of my most prized possessions - not laying down is so not happening, headache or not. I had hoped it was just a component of the sinus cold I acquired about the time of the injection. Now that the cold is much improved and the headache is much worse each morning - I would have to say, nope, not getting off that easy.

Other than that, a little low level queasiness and serious lack of libido (though that hardly seems anything new), I would say so far the side effects aren't too bad - provided I don't care so much about sounding like a doofus - according to my experts on the topic (ie: those under the age of adulthood in my house) or waking each morning feeling like my head is ready to explode.

One very nice, most welcome side effect of the Lupron though, was it shut my cycle down cold. I mean, no messing around, those ovaries are O-F-F. The blessing of having my typical monthly two week long miserable flash flood af cut off short at not even a full 5 days into it completely not lost on me. Nicely done, nicely done.

Now that my fanny is worth $2000 for the next three months - will it be worth it? I can only hope.

Thursday, March 13, 2008

Battle Scars

I have a scar - right in the crook of my right elbow. The only vestige of probably hundreds of blood draws. Some women get told they have nice legs, or nice hair or nice eyes - me? I get told I have nice veins. Nice, fat, juicy, ripe for poking veins. Of all the things to be genetically blessed with - I got great, visible veins. The rest - eh, not so spectacular. The vein in my right arm is particularly nice and a favorite of the phlebotomists. Which is why I have a bumpy scar there - scar tissue from all the many many blood draws I have had over the last decade and a half or more. Fertility work ups, hormone levels and the always anxiety provoking beta hcgs. I lost count after a while - though I do know there have been a considerable amount of them over the years.

My doctor sent me for a beta hcg test today. The Lupron shot I am receiving tomorrow is considered Category X and because I still have my uterus and not of menopausal age - she has to make sure I am not "in the family way" before administering it. Doesn't matter that I peed on a stick yesterday - though that was me trying to get my period to show up more than anything. Doesn't matter that the red deluge showed up with a vengeance not even a full hour after I POAS. We must make sure. Well - I didn't really want to "make sure". I really didn't want to take one more pregnancy test that I KNEW, beyond a shadow of a doubt, would come up negative. I didn't want to feel that old familiar pang of past failures.

I have a lot of scars. I have a grape sized scar on my knee from when I brushed up against the tailpipe of my dad's volkswagon van when I was a kid. I have a scar on the side of my hand from when I tripped and put my hand through a window. I have scars from the two laparoscopies I had - one to remove my gall bladder and the other for my tubal pregnancy. The incisions in my naval are a long jagged line working their way up from my belly button; the two separate incisions merging and diverging - sometimes one, sometimes two. The IV scars - little dots on the tops of my hands and dotting their way up the sides of my wrists. I have 7 in a row on one wrist alone that I can easily find. There's also my csection scars - the lines that mark the spot where my babies and I became two separate individuals after so long of being almost completely one. With the exception of the lap scars - the only scar or visible proof I have that my angels existed at all is in the crook of my right arm. A couple of them lay claim to some IV scars. But that elbow scar - that is almost entirely exclusive to my little ones. That is the place where they drew the blood that would give us the numbers. The numbers that told us yes, we had made a baby. The numbers that depending on what they did - indicated things were going well and all too often, that things were most definitely not going well. The scars and numbers that were the culmination of weeks of pills or shots and timing and monitoring and then 2 weeks of waiting, doing nothing but trying to hurry up to the day that we could stick that lovely vein again. and again.

I thought I had left all that behind. I am through with that part of my life right? Today though, I found myself driving to the lab for a blood draw and inexplicably feeling anxious and even a bit excited. Flashbacks? Have I become like Pavlov's dogs? Tourniquet my arm, show me a syringe and I'll begin to salivate? Because for more than the space of a brief second, I felt the tiniest bit of a wish rising to the surface - a wish for just one more positive pregnancy test. To feel that thrilling flush of success after so much failure. A hope I haven't entertained for a while now and a success I won't be celebrating again, ever, when we schedule the hysterectomy for later this year. I sat in the chair. The nurse examined my veins and liked what she saw. "Oh good." she said under her breath. I knew her relief meant she was happy to see I would be an easy stick. I mentioned the scar tissue like I have done in countless previous draws. "You have to go above or below because that scar has gotten pretty thick over time." She nodded. She was good. Swift and accurate - not too far in, but just far enough so she didn't have to wiggle the needle and no scraping up against the opposite wall of the vein. Almost painfree - almost; a perfect stick.

Yes, I have a scar in the crook of my arm. I have beautiful, easy to stick veins. And I have many scars. I also have scars that you can't see. Scars that run deep and don't forget. Scars that bring my heart's song of hope bubbling up again at the merest touch - that this life's blood I give might turn into something beautiful. But not today. No not today. Sadly, I am actually okay with that. Though it is a wistful and somewhat reluctant acceptance. I knew one day that it would be over - that I would be done. I have discovered though - that while I am done with the physical aspects and the logistical aspects - there are some aspects that you are never done with. Now that I am here - I find it hard to believe. Where did the time go and what do I do now? Acquiring those scars had been my life's focus - do I know how to do anything else?

I've noticed my scars fade over time, but they never ever fully disappear. I know where they are - I remember every single one of them and how I earned them.

Wednesday, March 12, 2008

The Fat Lady is in da House!

Just as in old times, I don't do well with waiting and feeling like I'm in a holding pattern.

I went to the store and got an hpt. I POAS.

And . . . .

It was negative. (Which I really didn't need a stick to tell me that - just for purposes of this exercise, the stick was a necessary component.)

And . . . ..

AF showed up one hour later.

Works every time.

Lupron shot on Friday.


Thus Ends My Brilliant Career in Internet Research . . .

"You can prevent the condition through a healthy lifestyle, a balanced diet, decreasing the stress levels and adequate rest."

Thank you Women's Health Zone for that little gem.

That is like telling me to relax and I will get pregnant. I was relaxed when I started trying to get pregnant oh so many years ago. I didn't start feeling stressed about it until I found I needed to start taking fertility drugs a year later. I even went on vacations. When I finally did get pregnant each time - I wasn't exactly calm and care-free and certainly not adequately rested. Though - my diet had/has been pretty good. I like a good healthy variety and while not opposed to a few french fries now and then - don't make a habit of them or anything.

I didn't even KNOW Adenomyosis existed until last month and now it's "my own fault".

Knowledge may be power - however, I am finding it also has the potential of making you feel like a bigger failure than you did before. Stupid itchy Google trigger finger . . .

I can't give you stress free - and until I am dead, probably not well rested either. I never drank, I never smoked. However - I feel like starting both right now out of frustration and what have I got to lose at this point since I already buggered my uterine health anyway despite eating salad and veggies like a rabbit all these years. I even like my veggies better RAW! How is that for whole food?

And yes, still waiting on the awful monthly visitor. I called my doctor's office to tell them I was running out of the inactive bcps - I only have 3 left in the pack and about 4 days late. The nurse didn't know what to tell me - no Lupron until I start, so now I am waiting to hear back from Dr. M to see if we are going to try and jumpstart things with Provera. I'm not inclined to wait it out much longer - my back was hurting so bad last night that I could only curl up on the bed and cry. The nurse did ask - ever so delicately, I might add - if I might be late possibly because . . . .? Fortunately I was in a fairly good mood thanks to some ibuprofen (okay, a lot of ibuprofen - my liver is so going to end up hating me) knocking the edge off the raging pms pain I've been having and just merely laughed, even though I really didn't find it all that amusing. Though - timing is everything and she was fortunate I was having a rare good moment. There is no way - no freaking way. Between the bcps and additional back up - I would actually have to have overcome the intense pms-induced dislike for all things male at the moment and of course, the pain issue. Also, the hubby out of town a fair amount is a bit of a hindrance there as well.

So anywho - here we sit - waiting. I have spent way too much time in my life feeling guilty and waiting.

Tuesday, March 11, 2008

Dad Always Said - Boredom is the Sign of an Uneducated Mind

My Lupron injection is in and now we are waiting for my period to show up. Despite increasing cramps and back ache for the last 2 weeks+ (and that we are 3 days past scheduled arrival date) - no show yet. I shell out almost $2000 for this Lupron party and the "guest of honor" is a no show. Oh she'll show up - believe me, she always does - just will be at the most inconvenient time possible. I have to start before they will administer the shot. My dh leaves tomorrow and will be out of town until the Friday before Easter. My doc's office is almost a 2 hour drive one way. Going to be very interesting how we coordinate all the logistics (wait - did I say we? Oh, yeah - I meant I!) make sure everyone at home is taken care of with one less parent for the job and finding bathrooms every 15-20 minutes along the interstate. Depends perhaps? Ugh. I'm going to drive all that way at a very miserable time for the extreme privilege of being jabbed in the tushy with one extremely expensive syringe full of heaven only knows what kind of hormonal fun. Perhaps I can amuse myself by coming back after the trip and giving a review for your reading pleasure all the public restrooms between here and my doctor's office along the interstate.

In other news - I have to amuse myself waiting by reading. (As if I just have so much time on my hands - but you know. . .) I need to find some better fodder for my ocular perusal. Is it just me or is Hollywood procreating like crazy? I've tried to find other articles, but other than the winner of the next election already being announced (Wow! That's amazing - the media is capable of telling the future now!) find it a bit like a pregnant starlet minefield. The annoying bit is the media or even the stars themselves all seem to be under the impression that this is the most incredible thing that anyone has ever done in the history of man. Whatever. This despite the fact that their mere presence suggests that someone already managed this amazing feat prior to their accomplishment. The fascination has become so pervasive that even some of the more recent issues of Newsweek or Time I have come across have been rather Hollywood Stork centric. I find it incredibly annoying at times. This morning I came across this and I have to tell you I am not quite sure what to think about it. All those times my abdomen was eyed suspiciously and asked if I was pregnant (why oh why does this only seem to happen at Walmart?) and I wasn't - but thanks for reminding me I'm not and again how fat I am, I have to admit it never occurred to me to sue. Granted - no one has plastered a picture of my generous sized body with fast food in hand and made a snarky comment on my eating habits. I can't help but think that our distressed daughter of an exceptionally famous person could have just said "No you morons - not fat, just pregnant!" and left it at that and let the paparazzi look like the idiots they can be. However, we're just going to sue them now. For myself - I am trying to figure out why I even care and thinking that I need to find something else to read . . .

Saturday, March 8, 2008

At Least This Post is Short

Are the tears of joy a person feels subtracted from the tears of anguish they have also shed? If the amount should come out even - does that negate the pain? or the joy?

Why do some of the most dismissive sentences begin with these two words "At least" and why do we usually only hear them when we are having a difficult time?

Thursday, March 6, 2008

Mothballing the Fleet

I'm on the downward slide into the red deluge. I hurt and the heating pad and ibuprofen can't seem to keep up with it - deluge could be here as early as this weekend, or who knows? Even on bcps she's been arriving later and later and lasting longer and longer - impervious to the hormonal manipulation we have been trying to exert. I'm trying to prepare myself for the likelihood of having a hysterectomy this year. Still waffling over giving the lupron a shot - even though knowing it will only postpone the inevitable and the side effects may be as bad or worse as what I deal with already.

We had a big rain at the beginning of this week followed by ice and snow. Phone service in town has been spotty at best since. As a result, my doc couldn't get through on our home phone (got an" all circuits are busy" message which I have been getting off and on all week too whenever I try to call out) and so she tried my cell phone tonight. I didn't get to the cell before it went to voice mail and so missed her call and as a consequence was unable to ask the questions I have been writing down all week. I've been trying to gather as much information as possible on options, things to expect, things to do to prepare - things I can do to help me cope with this while I wait - questions I need answered. You would think more information would provide more comfort. I find the reverse to be true - the more information I gather, the more and more depressed I become. I know I can't live like this for much longer - especially since this is only getting worse and worse and getting there rapidly. (Ah how fickle endometriosis is - sometimes she is slow and deliberate and other times a quick ravenous and pervasive harpie.) I don't know if I can live like "that" either - please, I do not mean to offend anyone who has had to undergo a hysterectomy. I just don't know how to face losing such a huge part of my identity as a woman. Rationally I know that is not all there is to me. So much of the last fifteen years of my life though has focused around this particular organ. I'm a uterus junkie, a habit I don't know how to or just can't quit. At the moment I felt like we were beginning to settle into a less intense relationship, I find I need to re-evaluate and let go, cut myself off in one fell swoop. I tell myself I should be grateful I have time at all - to come to terms, to prepare - as much as anyone can in this situation. I think though - no matter how you arrive at it, it just plain sucks all the way around.

Tuesday, March 4, 2008

Maybe My MP3 Playlist isn't so Bad After All

I kept my MP3 player plugged in and continued playing random songs as I made dinner tonight.

This song came up - I'd almost forgotten it was on there. The link will take you to the You Tube video. Lyrics below.

Calling All Angels
(Jane Siberry with KD Lang)

Santa Maria, Santa Teresa, Santa Anna, Santa Susannah
Santa Cecilia, Santa Copelia, Santa Domenica, Mary Angelica
Frater Achad, Frater Pietro, Julianus, Petronilla
Santa, Santos, Miroslaw, Vladimir
and all the rest

a man is placed upon the steps, a baby cries
and high above the church bells start to ring
and as the heaviness the body oh the heaviness settles in
somewhere you can hear a mother sing

then it's one foot then the other as you step out onto the road
how much weight? how much weight?
then it's how long? and how far?
and how many times before it's too late?

calling all angels
calling all angels
walk me through this one
don't leave me alone
calling all angels
calling all angels
we're cryin' and we're hurtin'
and we're not sure why...

and every day you gaze upon the sunset
with such love and intensity
it's's almost as if
if you could only crack the code
then you'd finally understand what this all means

but if you you think you would
trade in all the pain and suffering?
ah, but then you'd miss
the beauty of the light upon this earth
and the sweetness of the leaving

calling all angels
calling all angels
walk me through this one
don't leave me alone
callin' all angels
callin' all angels
we're tryin'
we're hopin'
we're hurtin'
we're lovin'
we're cryin'
we're callin'
'cause we're not sure how this goes

I think I Need to Reconsider my MP3 Playlist

I've been reading various blogs on the latest book tour (Embryo Culture) and came across this meme on Sell Crazy Someplace Else that I just had to try. I love SCSE's song for question #8 - I laughed and laughed and peed my pants.

I needed a bit of a lift today given the uterus or not drama going on in my life lately. I originally started using my mp3 player for bedtime - filling it with lots of Enya and other soothing tunes to help me fall asleep (and drown out the snoring). Over time more of my typical fare starting making it's way onto the player. Placed on shuffle for this particular exercise produced some interesting results to say the very least. Follows is my rather eclectic list:

1. The song for you that existed before you ever thought about your fertility:

"Suo Gan" Mormon Tabernacle Choir - Okay yes, initially I thought an odd song to pop up, given it isn't even in English, but when I found the translated lyrics, I cried, and cried and cried.

To my lullaby surrender
Warm and tender is my breast
Mother's arms with love caressing
Lay their blessing on your rest
Nothing shall tonight alarm you
None shall harm you, have no fear
Lie contented, calmly slumber
On your mother's breast, my dear

Here tonight I tightly hold you
And enfold you while you sleep
Why, I wonder, are you smiling
Smiling in your slumber deep?
Are the angels on you smiling
And beguiling you with charm
While you also smile, my blossom
In my bosom soft and warm?
Have no fear now, leaves are knocking
Gently knocking at our door
Have no fear now, waves are beating
Gently beating on the shore
Sleep, my darling, none shall harm you
Nor alarm you, never cry
In my bosom sweetly smiling
And beguiling those on high

2. Would you really want to go back and be that person again?

"Castle on a Cloud" Les Miserables Soundtrack - I use to sing this to my daughter when she was in the NICU.

There is a place where no one's lost,
There a place where no one cries,
Crying, at all, is not allowed,
Not in my castle on a cloud.

3. The song for when you first started fertility treatments:

"Morning Has Broken" Cat Stevens

Mine is the sunlight, mine is the morning
Born of the one light, eden saw play
Praise with elation, praise every morning
God's recreation of the new day

4. What did infertility do to your sex life?

"Wild Child" Enya (I know - are you kidding me??!!)

Ever close your eyes
Ever stop and listen
Ever feel alive
And you've nothing missing
You don't need a reason
Let the day go on and on

5. What about superstitions and fertility rituals?

"Harry's Game" Clannad

English Translation)
I will go east and go west
[To the places] from whence came
The moon and the sun

The moon and the sun will go
And the young man
With his reputation behind him

I will go wherever he came from -
The young man with his reputation behind him

6. How about "alternative" treatments (i.e., acupuncture, yoga, etc.)? This is where things started to get a little weird - yes, I do love my metal now and then . . .

"Master of Puppets" Metallica

End of passion play, crumbling away
I'm your source of self-destruction
Veins that pump with fear, sudden dark is clear
Leading on your deaths construction
Taste me you will see
more is all you need
you're dedicated to
how I'm killing you

Come crawling faster
obey your Master
your life burns faster
obey your Master
Master of Puppets I'm pulling your strings
twisting your mind and smashing your dreams
Blinded by me, you can't see a thing
Just call my name, `cause I'll hear you scream

7. How do you feel about coming out of the IF closet?

"Where Ever I may Roam" Metallica again.

call me what you will
but I'll take my time anywhere
free to speak my mind anywhere
and I'll redefine anywhere
anywhere I may roam

8. Your song for other people's baby showers?

"Oh Very Young" Cat Stevens

And though your dreams may toss and turn you now
They will vanish away like your daddys best jeans
Denim blue fading up to the sky
And though you want them to last forever
You know they never will

9. What about our scary friend, hope?

"Gloomy Sunday" Sarah Brightman (this song is like scary morbid suicidal)

I was only dreaming
I wake and I find you asleep
In the deep of my heart dear
Darling I hope
That my dream never haunted you
My heart is telling you
How much I wanted you
Gloomy Sunday
Gloomy Sunday

10. And lastly, the theme song of your fertility journey:

"I'll Fly Away" Alison Kraus "O Brother Where Art Thou" Soundtrack

Just a few more weary days and then
I'll fly away
To a land where joys will never end
I'll fly away

Monday, March 3, 2008

Somebody Shoot Me and Put Me out of My Misery Please

Up Front - my two least favorite words in the American Language right now. After spending the better part of the afternoon calling several different phone numbers and getting a huge amount of run around, my day boils down to these two words - "up front".

I guess hurting every day, hemorrhaging for days on end and becoming increasingly unpleasant to be around 2+ weeks every cycle and the fact that this condition is progressive (meaning it is going to get a lot worse the more time that passes) isn't enough. No - health insurance is not for quality of life apparently. Standard insurance applies. I must meet my deductible first or pony up the entire amount on my own UP FRONT because the pharmaceutical company providing the Lupron won't ship the shot without being paid in full first. Lupron is not preventative care so standard plan requirements must be met first. I'm not trying to have a baby - just trying to avoid having a hysterectomy or requiring a blood transfusion this year. That sounds kind of preventative to me . . .

Anyone know what a 3 month 11.25 mg Lupron Depot shot is worth? Oh yeah. Not an amount I have floating around all in one lump sum for a "rainy day" - and I am going to have to pay UP FRONT for two of them. I could wait for our tax return and then pay for it and get the shot then. Given that we haven't filed yet - this could be a few months, or longer. Yeah - that progressive condition thing kind of puts a damper on that plan. Seeing as we are not even close to meeting our deductible, we look into creative financing, which usually involves credit cards. While we would have to meet our deductible anyway - it just wasn't something I was expecting to have to meet all at the same time! Bits and pieces spread out over the year, sure - but all UP FRONT - for two lousy shots??!! You know, I really thought I was done with all this. Oh yes - my particular brand of hormonal imbalance induced infertility and rpl - the gift that just keeps on giving, even after you've retired your basal body thermometer. Yes, sour grapes talking. I bawled for an hour after I got off the phone. My next period is due in the next week or so (or so because she hasn't been too punctual lately, even on bcps) and I have been spending most of of the last 2 weeks already clinging to my heating pad like it's a life raft and subsisting on mass quantities of dt. cola and ibuprofen.

Seeing as either way - I am going to be shelling out a large amount of cash all at once, I might as well just schedule the hysterectomy now and get it over with - since it is an inevitability. The hospital and my doctor bill AFTER , notwithstanding the fact would also work out a payment plan with me. Of course, then my insurance company would probably say we didn't try other treatment options first and deny paying anything on basis of that. I wanted some time to come to terms with this and time apparently is not something I have up front.

Yeesh . . .