Cranky McCranky-Pants

First off, all things pregnancy related are still moving along swimmingly. I had a doctor appointment this morning, and Lil H and I are right on track in all measurable categories. I'm being kicked in all kinds of fun places as a regular occurrence, and sometimes I swear the lil sucker is trying to break out through my cervix. It's very strange - very strange indeed!

Now, if you're not interested in reading the ranting lunacy of a grieving, hormonal, bitchy pregnant person, I suggest you just click-click your sweet little self away from this here blog right about now.


K?


Still here?


You're sure you want to do that?


Well, ok then...


But don't say you weren't warned!


As I've discussed many, many, many MANY times here before (seriously, check out the "Prayer Request" label), Grumpy's mom is ill.

She's recently gotten worse.

Much, MUCH worse.

As in, "no other treatment options" and "hospice services" worse. Fortunately, she's home, where she is undoubtedly more comfortable than if she were stuck in the hospital or other facility. Which, in itself, is a blessing. One daughter was in town to see her this past weekend, the other daughter will be in within a couple of weeks. The family is preparing to say good-bye, and left with nothing to do but wait for the end.

And that SUCKS!

If you've never been through it before, let me say that in my opinion, having lived through both types of losses, I would much rather lose a family member suddenly than have to watch them fight and fight and fight, only to lose their battle and waste away to nothing. That's not to suggest that either situation is EASY - not by any stretch of the imagination. But watching someone's will to live be sucked out of their broken but not quite beaten body... It's a torture that I wouldn't wish on anyone, patient or caregivers.

In the midst of all the waiting, we're of course dealing with the personality conflicts that arise during such stressful times. Control-freaks that have no control over the situation their loved one is facing now find themselves grasping for control over whatever situation they are presented with - whether it's appropriate for them to control or not. Battered egos and too-long-held grudges are rearing their ugly heads. Decisions are made and re-made, depending on who feels the need to express their opinions, and whose opinions are deemed worthy of being considered. The family circles the wagons, while managing to throw stones at each other.

Everyone is overwhelmed and nobody has any opportunity to escape, or decompress, even for the tiniest of moments. Because we all know what reality is waiting for us at the end of that teeny, tiny escape... And reality is not any kind of fun right now.

I've never been much of an escapist... I've wished for things to be different, and have made lots and LOTS of plans to get them to change. Hell, I've even followed through on some of those plans. But right now all I want to do is take Grumps and our furkids someplace far, far away where there is no cell service, no wi-fi, no illness or decisions or commitments, where we can just BE for a little while. Quiet - silly - introspective - but most of all, alone. I'm craving quiet, and wanting very badly to circle our own little wagons. I suppose that could be an extension of the nesting instinct - wanting to protect our little family from the cruelties of the outside world. But, this isn't the outside world, and I don't have any choice but to broaden my shoulders, and carry whatever part of this familial load that I am able to carry...

Staggering through the Blah

I'm in this emotional space right now - very rut like - where nothing is really wrong, but nothing feels really right either. I know that there is lots of right in my life, and that there could - and has been - so much more wrong. I'm just having a hard time focusing on the "right" these days.

I was talking to the Grumps about it this weekend. How incredibly proud I am of him for taking this leap, going back to school, and actively pursuing his dream. I am proud. But, I'm also jealous. A little jealous of the time he gets to spend at home, not dealing with the politics and personality bullshit that goes along with any job. But much, much more jealous of how driven he is. How it is that he KNOWS what he wants, and he's going after it.

I've thought a lot over the last few months about going back to school, finishing up my degree. The problem is that I have no idea what I'd want to get that degree in. Accounting is the logical choice, since I am about a third of the way to that degree in coursework, and I've been working in the field for 12 years now (pretty much my entire "professional" life). But, is this really what I want to do? Forever and ever?

It's easy. It makes sense. It's the logical choice. It's one of the few industries that IS still growing. It's a skill that every single business in operation needs. But, I don't think it's what I want.

Unfortunately, I have no idea what I DO want.

Well, I take that back. The kicker is that what I want to do with my life - what I've always wanted to do - I can't get a degree for. Paying tuition won't get me any where near it. At this point, I'm not sure that anything will.

***insert frustation here***

I know that most of this Blah is all up in my head. Yes, there are some issues that I need to work through. I need to decide if school is really something I want. And if it is, I need to get my ass in motion to get it done.

Grumps is between semesters next week, and I've decided to take the week off. We haven't had an entire week off together since our honeymoon, going on 6 years ago. And we both decided that it's been way too fucking long. We don't have any major plans: north to see our friends, introduce the kittens to camping, and bring the camper home; some cleaning/decluttering/home improvement stuff around the house; hopefully some bbq-ing, and some bonfires, and a lot of down time. I'm really, REALLY hoping that this little break from the everyday gives me a chance to recharge, reevaluate, and clear my head a bit.

I hate titles

I'm really, really working to find my happy place right now, but to be perfectly honest, I'm really fucking tired of feeling like life is shitting all over me.

I know - believe me I know - that I AM blessed, and things could be - and are for so many people - so much worse than they are.

But, let me briefly recap the last year for ya:

• April 2008: Surgery to remove more endometriosis. It went fabulously, so I suppose this is really a blessing. But the surgery itself was scary (I don't do surgery well... suppose I'll get used to it, as I'm sure there are more in my future).
• May 2008: Started Lupron, and had a pretty tough time with it (though it seemed to do its job, so blessing + curse at the same time).
• July 2008: Dad got sick
• August 2008: Grumps lost his job
• September 2008: I turned 30. And yes, in the grand scheme, that's not such a big deal. BUT, 30 was always my "must have kids by" age. I know it's ridiculous, but it hit me, hard.
• October 2008: Dad died
• November 2008: Grumps had a paperwork SNAFU with his college program, setting back his start date to spring semester, instead of winter.
• January 2009: Grumps mom got VERY ill, began a 6 week stint between the hospital and rehab center, and almost died on 3 separate occassions.
• March 2009: My kitty, the obnoxious yet lovable little shit that he is, is diagnosed with cancer. We're treating it aggressively, and he seems to be responding well, but it's costing us a fortune (umm, say halfway to an IVF cycle, and counting).

And through it all, the infertility is still always in the back of my mind. There isn't anything that the Grumps and I can do about it now, but it's always there, like a dull ache. I've tried convincing myself recently that maybe a life without kids wouldn't be so bad. We'd have time to focus on us, on our personal goals, on our marriage.

But, that all seems so empty.... so incomplete.

SO NOT FUCKING FAIR.

And then I transition from the weepy, why me bullshit, into the LIFE FUCKING SHITS ON MY PARADE ALL THE FUCKING TIME AND I'M FUCKING TIRED OF IT tirade.

and when I'm like this, I really don't feel like subjecting the rest of the world to my ugliness. So I hide, and mope, and "cave dwell".

I suppose that's a really long and winding way to explain why I haven't been around. I'm still reading though, and the wonderful news I've seen out in our little corner of the internet has warmed my heart, and put a giant, shit-eating grin on my face.

Unfortunately, that only lasts a moment, and then I go back into the ugliness.

So now, I'm going back into hiding. I'll try and pop my head out a little more frequently.

Infertility is a

You'd think that with everything going on in my world these days, infertility would have taken a back seat. SHOULD have taken a back seat.

But, NOPE! That bitch is ALWAYS there, just beyond whatever is demanding front and center attention in my brain. And every now and then, it demands the spot light for itself.

Still worried about Dad (his recovery, whether or not he'll ever get home, whether or not he'll be approved for medicare, where we'll move him to if his insurance doesn't approve him to stay in rehab, how the hell he (or we) will pay for a nursing home). Still worried about Grumps (will he get accepted into the education program, how will he do in school, will his spirit survive this whole new brand of hard-times). Always worried about our finances (We were getting ahead until the whole "unemployed spouse" situation made its grand entrance. If he's going to school, how are we going to figure out a way to get ahead with our new financial situation?) Work is INSANE, and will NOT get any better until after tax season. Grump's Mom's and sister's health are an ongoing concern. I have more friends going thru their own emotional turmoils than I can count. blah blah blah blah fucking blah.

And still, through all of that, the soul-crushing ache of infertility manages to rear its ugly head. It's really disgusting. I wasn't really sure how we'd pay for treatments in our former economic life. This new life? Ha! Laughable. And let's just be naive for a moment and say that we won't need treatments (again, laughable... but not totally impossible), is now, with all of this going on, really a reasonable and responsible time to add a child into the mix? Of course my brain is screaming NO, YOU FREAKING IDIOT! But my heart? And my uterus? Those bitches INSIST that we can find a way to make it work. And the little whores further comment that life doesn't always work out "the way you have it pictured" but it does always work out.

Go back to ttc with an unemployed hubs and a shaky financial picture? Or put it on hold for ANOTHER 2+ years, when we'll both be 2 years older, and then endo has had a 2 year opportunity to grow it's little heart out (which, as I'm typing this makes me realize that this option would make this entire year of preparation treatments & surgery a COMPLETE waste of time and energy)?

Ah, the infertility... she is a BITCH!

So much going on, lots to say about it.

Oh - where to begin?

Dad is still in the rehab/nursing home. We (the 3 of us girls) had a care conference with the social worker, charge nurse, and occupational therapist on Tuesday morning. Apparently, Dad's not been all that cooperative with therapy, and it's getting to a point where he could be at risk for not getting insurance approval to stay there. If that happens, then we have to get him on medicaid, and put him in a full-fledged nursing home.

After the care conference, Sis2 & I went with Dad to his group physical therapy. It's the first time I've seen him during therapy, and I was pretty impressed. He was doing the exercises pretty well, I'd say in the top 20% of the group. And then he got winded. And then he couldn't catch his breath at all. And then he got scared. And then? Then he was done. "Take me back to my room, I'm done for today", frustrated, angry, terrified... done.

Once we got him back to his room, and he settled down a bit, we had a heart-to-heart-to-heart-to-heart. We did our best to make it clear to him that he still has the opportunity to get better and go home, but HE has to do the work to get there. He not only has to do what's asked of him, but he has to take the initiative to do more for himself. It's ok to have to ask for help, but he can't keep expecting people to do for him, and he can't keep leaving therapy early. It seems to have helped, as Sis2 spent the afternoon with him, and he did everything asked of him in therapy, and more.

I'm not excited yet, but I am hopeful... Think of it as a delayed arrival of AF, or a + OPK... Hopeful for the potential, but very, very aware that there is a whole lot that can still go wrong.

On the Grumps front, not a whole lot has changed. He is signed up and approved for unemployment, and he should get his first direct deposit tomorrow. He attended a seminar on the education program, and was sent home with a laundry list of paperwork to complete/gather/bring to his consultation with his case-worker next month. He's adjusting to his new life at home, but is by no means happy about it. And still very much has good days and bad. We're trying to take one day at a time while keeping him focused on the things he can do to improve the situation (some certifications he's been meaning to test for, lots of house projects we haven't made the time for, etc). Definitely working hard to find & keep the balance.

Work has just turned batshit insane, as our office building was just sold and is being turned into an urgent care facility. Our lease is up at the end of October, so the last week and a half has been spent finding and seeing potential space. We think we've found where we want to go, and now have to go through the whole negotiations process (can you hear the excitement in my voice?). And then comes the moving process (more excitement I tell ya).

And, just for fun... Grump's Mom has her maintenance chemo appointment tomorrow, along with the follow-up appointment for her recent spleen CT (where she'll HOPEFULLY get some results). AND Grump's twin sister spent a few days in the hospital last week and weekend. She's home now, and the condition is one that the doctors can treat with medications. It should resolve without any lasting problems, but her medical history is complicated enough that we can never be sure of anything.

I jokingly told my Mom that I need to stop waiting for the other shoe to drop, because the fucking thing keeps dropping. At this point, I'm not so sure I was joking.

wha-huh?

Ever hit one of those points in life where planning seems like a lost cause? Or a luxury you can't afford? Yeah - I'm there.

I had all of these BIG PLANS about how I was going to get the house in better shape, and make some major progress toward bill payment, and get signed up for another continuing ed class this fall, and and and. I even had a big ol' 101 in 1001 post all written, and scheduled to run in a couple of weeks.

And then? well... life happened.

Dad's situation is still unstable. Altho, medically, he's greatly improved, his strength is G.O.N.E. My always thin father (5'7" and never more than 145 pounds) is now skinny - and not in a good way. The size medium pants my sister bought him literally FALL off of his frail body. He's still not eating anything beyond what he gets in his feeding tube (which, is another point of contention... he says they're not bringing him food. I'll bet he's not asked for it. AND, there is a dining room TWO DOORS from his room in the center. Think he could ask for some help to get into his wheelchair to go down there? Bah!), he's still having digestive system issues (and you don't want any more detail), and he's still not doing all the physical therapy they're asking if him.

I spoke with the business center at his rehab this week, and found out that his 100% pay runs out early next month. After that, he has a daily co-pay. And it's not a small one. I have no idea how we'll be able to keep him there long enough to build up his strength to go home. ESPECIALLY when he's being so uncooperative.

And, AND... the man has lost his grip on reality. Not in a frightening "not recognizing people" kind of way (thank the Lord for that much), but in a "I refuse to acknowledge that my daughters have lives outside of being at my beck and call". And let me tell you, he's become one demanding son of a bitch. Everything from "I need you to buy me new socks. And you have to bring them to me so I can approve them. But I'm not going to put them on my feet until they're washed, so you have to do that too." and "I need tennis shoes for physical therapy. Not gym shoes, tennis shoes. I don't like the shoes you brought me (the ones he had at home), so buy me new ones. But I don't know what kind." to "Do my laundry. I made a mess of one outfit and you're not going to like it." and "I need some money. But I don't want it here." (umm, huh?).

But his latest little demand/scheme has to take the cake. He told me yesterday that what he'd like to do is go home for breakfast, then come back for his morning therapy. Then go home again for lunch, and come back for afternoon therapy. Then go home for dinner, and come back to spend the night. Umm... WHAT? WHY does he not realize that a) it's a 20 mile round trip from the rehab to his apartment, b) my sister and I both work full time, and c) we both KNOW that if we got him out of there for ANY reason, we'd have a GIGANTIC fight on our hands to get him back! Fortunately, I was able to placate him with "I dont think you're strong enough for that right now Dad, but maybe in a few weeks". I can't WAIT to share that little conversation with my sisters!

On the Grumps front - he's gotten his unemployment totally approved, and should get his first check late next week. We've got his resume posted on the state website (required for unemployment), and he even got a call about it. AND he's signed up for a seminar next week on high-demand career educational assistance. We're waiting to see if he'll qualify for the educational program before really pushing the job hunt.

All of that is to say that all those lovely plans I had are totally out the window. I can't see until tomorrow (other than the Dad visitation schedule), let alone make any progress on any goals. Very much in "1 day at a time" mode right now.

Rejuvenated...

... kind of.

We finally made it out of town on Saturday in the weeeeeee hours of the morning. (If it were up to me, 4am wouldn't even exist, unless that is when I'm falling into bed after a night out with friends. Unfortunately, that is when my alarm clock went off.)

Our intention was to get as loaded up as possible on Thursday, wrap up the loose ends Friday morning, and be on our way out of town by noon, FRIDAY. And, well, for a whole lot of reasons that really boil down to laziness and lack of motivation, that didn't happen.

BUT, we did have a really nice time with our friends. Good food, good conversation, plenty of testosterone laden activity to keep the Grumps happy, plenty of peace & quiet to mellow out my wound-too-tight mood, and well, everything's better with a cocktail or 2, right?



Things with Dad are about the same. The doctors put a chest tube in on Friday and drained approximately 2 liters (yes, I did just type 2 LITERS) of fluid off his lungs. Instantly, he felt better. He still has that tube, and today they were adding a tube to drain more infected fluid from his liver (this is his 2nd of this variety of tubing). He's responding well to the meds, and seems to be improving on all of his original complaints.

Now, we just need to get him to EAT REAL FOOD. And I'm sorry, but 5 spoons of mashed potatoes, 3 spoons of jello, and a sip of Carnation protein shake is NOT a meal. Because of his refusal to eat, he's back on the IV nutrition, which isn't helping to build him up at all. He's also developing some bed sores on his arm from his refusal to get out of bed, or have his position changed as often as the nursing staff would like. I can only imagine how badly his poor bottom must look after sitting on it pretty consistently for the last 22 days.

BUT, he knows that he needs to follow doctors' and nurses' orders. If he is choosing not to do that, I can't do it for him. And if he continues to make such ridiculous choices... well, he just may end up choosing not to leave the hospital. And then... THEN... I may just choose to kick his ass.

Too much

I don't know what else to say - it's simply too much.

This time of year is normally hard on me, as I work harder in these 3.5 months than I do in the other 8.5 months of the year... combined. It's the nature of the beast tho, and by sacrificing my sanity during the often brutal (and always unpleasant) months of Michigan winter, I get to rejoice in much reduced work hours during the off season, including having every other Friday off.

Add to that the insanity that is convention season. That committee I talked about here is planning a weekend long convention for approximately 300 attendees. We have scheduled events for Friday evening, all day Saturday, and Sunday morning. My role on the committee is primarily to handle the registration data entry for all attendees. It's not difficult, but it takes TIME. I figure I spend 3-4 hours per week for about 8 weeks. Again, not difficult, but time consuming. During a time of year when my "down time" is already significantly reduced.

Now, I should say that I'm used to those 2 things falling on my calendar during the same months. That's the way it is for me, and has been for the last few years. I can deal with that. Even though I don't enjoy it, I've learned to tolerate it, and can still manage to keep the rest of my life mostly in tact.

What qualifies as too much - what is driving me to a mental place that I haven't been to in a long time, and one that I'm not too keen on revisiting - is all the other crap that I have going on:

• My mother-in-law is still undergoing chemo. Tomorrow's treatment is tentatively scheduled as her last, but we have no idea what comes next. Her spleen still needs to be removed, she still has some recovery to do from her knee replacement in December, and she is still a very sick woman.
  
  
• My surgery and recovery, though not currently an immediate concern, has me freaked right the fuck out. What if the March 10 appointment doesn't go well, and they have to do the surgery sooner? What if waiting until April causes more harm than we thought it would? What if I have to go through another 6 weeks of recovery, locked in my house putting semi-permanent ass prints in my couch? How will the post surgical Lupron treatment go? What if the endo is more involved this time around, and I lose some parts that I really kinda need? How much is this whole thing going to effect my fertility (or, lack-thereof, as the case may be)?
  
  
• Thanks to the asshat that stole my debit card #, our finances are even further out of whack. (Sidenote, what is "in whack"? Can anyone answer that for me?) In my attempts to work us out of some unplanned financial ugliness, I managed to cut things shorter than normal for the last few months. It's been ok, and it will be ok, but that bastard just ratcheted up the stress level another few notches for me.
  
  
• I have absolutely no energy left during the week, and I try to spend my weekends enjoying some time with Grumpy. This means, of course, that my house is an absolute, God-forsaken, disaster. "Cleaning" has been limited to vacuuming about 20% as often as I need to, and throwing a load of laundry in the wash when I get the "I'm on my last pair of underwear" text message. I've never been what you'd consider a "clean freak", but it's been a long LONG time since my house has been in a condition that I'm embarrassed about... and it's there now.
  
  
• And the latest and greatest on my pile... I spent over an hour on the phone last night with my cousin. She's a freshman in college, and away from home for the first time. Except, she's no longer away from home. Right about now, she & her parents should be pulling into their lovely little suburban home, after G (the cousin) has lost all ability to cope with daily life. She's facing some health concerns (both physical and mental), and literally cannot handle the daily expectations of college life, dorm life, meeting her own most basic needs. She feels broken, and doesn't know how to fix herself. My heart breaks for her, and I want so badly to help, but I have no idea what I can do for her.

Can I PLEASE take a nap? And could that nap PLEASE last until... oh... April 15?

The straw...

As I've discussed ad nauseum (or at least it feels that way... I've talked a lot about all of it IRL, but I know that I've been a pretty quiet blogger lately, so this may not feel so ad nauseum to you, but it definitely feels that way to me!), I seem to have a lot going on in life these days. As a recap:

1. My mother-in-law is going thru chemo (for the 4th time) for her leukemia. Once her condition improves to the point that she's strong enough for surgery, she will need to have her spleen removed.
   
   
2. It's crazy season at the office, and I have very little time to do anything (often including real work) during my work day. Most days I feel like I spend all my time answering stupid questions, making appointments, and trying to get other people's work out. Everyone seems to forget that I'm responsible for about 50% of the billable work that goes out of here from now until April 15, so I don't give a shit that you need me to proof-read this letter, or fix that spreadsheet.
   
   
3. There is some other family drama going on that I'm choosing not to discuss around here (privacy concerns and all that jazz), but believe me when I say that it's taking it's own toll.
   
   
4. I'm a jackass, and have volunteered (again) for a committee that I don't really want to be on, that plans a function I don't really want to go to, for an organization that I am regularly decreasing my involvement in. Oh, and I volunteered completely out of a sense of duty & obligation, rather than it being volunteer work I'd enjoy doing. Sense any resentment on that one?
   
   
5. My surgery is scheduled for April 18. To say that this whole situation was a surprise would be an understatement, and a lie, at the same time. I have endo, and it sometimes comes back. I've had to have surgery to remove a GIGANTIC FUCKING CYST before, and it looks like I get to do it again. The good news is that Dr. N thinks he's got a 50/50 shot of removing the cyst robotically, so same day surgery & about a week's recovery time. The bad news... the need for surgery itself sucks, the other side of that 50/50 equation is another laparotomy with a 3 day hospital stay & 6 week recovery, I won't know which procedure he does until after surgery (so I'm stuck in this lovely hoping for the best but preparing for the worst mind-set), and I have to wait EIGHT FUCKING WEEKS for the surgery. That, in and of itself, could be enough to drive this poor girl bonkers.
   
   
6. And the kicker... the one that I must laugh at for fear of screaming myself mute, or pulling all of my hair out one handfull at a time.... I discovered Tuesday that some asshole had stolen my check card number. And used it. In New York. To the tune of $500. Fortunately, my credit union is FABULOUS, and I will have all of the money credited back to my account by the end of business today (after 10 pages of faxes, several signatures, and multiple phone calls). We didn't have anything hanging out there payment wise that will bounce because of this fiasco (Thank God!). And at this point, the only inconvenience left is that I don't have use of my card. I should have my replacement within a few days tho.

That last little assualt on my sanity was the one that did me in. The proverbial straw that broke this camel's back. So, I spent yesterday alternating between napping in bed, and watching bad tv on the couch. Not exactly what I should have done with a Wednesday in the midst of tax season, but exactly what I needed.

whine whine, bitch bitch

I have a cold sore and my lip hurts, a lot. My nose & teeth hurt from the damn thing, too. It's cd53. I feel like I might be coming down with a cold or the flu (achy, blah, weak, tired). It's cd53. The air in my house is so dry that the inside of my nose has CRACKED, and is bleeding a little bit... and that hurts! It's cd53. I don't want to do anything but go home, have a nice hot bowl of chili (it's in the crock pot now!), chug a half a bottle of NyQuil, and go to bed. But, I have about 4 freaking hours of paperwork to do for a committee that I'm on, and my current deliverable is due on Tuesday night.

Oh, and did I mention that it's cycle day fifty-fucking-three?!?!

ARGH!

Note to Self

When trying to reduce your household expenses by shopping at the dollar store - BE SURE TO READ LABELS! "Sour Creme" is not the same as sour cream.

Hey pizza man!

Bloodwork results

My thyroid antibodies are *still* high. All other levels were normal. Apparently, my body is taking its sweet ass time killing my thyroid. It can continue to fuck things up at its own leisurely pace, and I *still* can't do anything about it.

Ugh.

Ramblings on a trip to the GP

(The above picture is of our Golden Retriever, who couldn't look that mean on her own unless somebody was trying to harm Grumpy or I. You can actually see a blur of flesh on either side of her nose... those are my fingers, holding up her lips for her "Grrrrrrrrrrrr" Face. Cute, huh?)

I had to go to my general practitioner today for a thyroid follow up. See, my thyroid levels are "a little off", so we've been "keeping an eye on it" for 4 years. "A little off" meaning off enough that it *could* cause problems (like, say, contribute to infertility?), but not *off enough* to be able to treat, yet. "Keeping an eye on it" means that me, and 4 docs, have been regularly watching the levels for THREE FUCKING YEARS, waiting for them to be *off enough* that we can DO SOMETHING about them. So, today was another blood draw, and I should have results early next week.

I walked into the doc's waiting room, and darn near tripped over an infant, in her carseat, sitting on the floor. Adorable little girl (from what I could tell, only allowing myself to peak at her for a few painful seconds). My ten minute wait consisted of me playing chuzzle on my cell phone, trying desperately to not notice the nurse, receptionist, and technicians that kept pouring out of the back office to fawn all over the sweet little child. Fortunately (so I thought), the little bundle of joy and her parents were called in to an exam room a few minutes before me. Whew, public crying jag successfully avoided.

A lovely nurse calls me back to the exam area, by way of the MEAN AND EVIL scale, and then tells me I've gained 4lbs since I was in last. "Didn't want to see that number," I say. "BULLSHIT! It's winter in MI, I blame the clothes difference!" I think to myself. And, I've convinced myself that this is a perfectly reasonable explanation. After all, my last visit was in May; I was probably wearing a lightweight, short-sleeved top, capris, and sandals. Today, I was in jeans, Come Fuck Me Boots (minus the fishnet stockings), and 3 layers of shirts including an over sized fleece jacket type shirt of Grumpy's. TOTALLY 4lbs worth of extra fabric there, right?

So, I'm ushered into the exam room to wait for the doc. I rejoin my chuzzle game, already in progress, and prepare to wait patiently. And then I hear it. In the next room, the distinct wail of a little person in pain. That's right folks, she was in for her first round of shots. She cried, Mom cried, Dad cried... but I didn't. I bit my lip, I shifted uncomfortably in my chair, I slammed my phone closed, I tried to distract myself with a crappy dr office magazine (which, by the way, were ALL baby/family/pregnancy geared), but I DID NOT CRY.

And for that, I am very proud of myself.

Split personality?

I feel like I'm emotionally all over the place these days... Sad, frustrated, then happy, throw some thankful in the mix (just for fun). It's all EXHAUSTING! (Don't believe me? Look back at my most recent posts, other than the recipes. Tell me that's not a bit unbalanced.)

I don't know what to do about it anymore. I don't know if it's true depression, and maybe I should talk to my doc about it? Or maybe I should go back to my counselor for a bit (even though we REALLY can't afford that expense right now)? Is it just my hormones being crazy (because if my chart is any indication, they're certainly not doing what they are SUPPOSED to do)? Am I just overwhelmed right now, what with the holidays, and the bills, and coming up into my busy season at work? Perhaps the fact that I never fully dealt with some things a couple years ago, preferring to take the easy road & "sweep them under the rug" (those things are not IF related, and not open for discussion)?

I do know that something HAS to change. I can't keep bouncing thru emotional peaks & valleys like this. I really need a nice, level plateau. Get me thru the holidays, and to a place where I can figure somethings out (like, perhaps, what our next step in treatments might be, and when we might be able to take it).

I need help, but I don't know who to ask, or where to get it.

oops...

Apparently some of the BlogHer advertisers don't care for my last post too much. Best Buy is the only ad that still shows up right now, with the rest of the ad rotation being blank. Oops... umm... sorry BlogHer.

Anyway, I'm feeling a bit more human today. Still pissed off and frustrated as hell with my body, with finances, with IF. You know, the usual.

I think I'm just really overwhelmed right now. I (still) have lots in my life that isn't where I want it to be. And none of it is a quick fix, I have no easy buttons. I don't know where to start to make it right, but wallowing in all of it sure isn't going to get me anywhere.

So, it's time to really focus, and pick a battle. Preferably something that with the proper attention, I CAN conquer (so, sadly, IF probably won't be it this first time out). And most importantly, something that I can check off the mental list in a somewhat short time. I need a win here, and I need one quick!

Afraid of Success?

I think I'm actually afraid of finally winning at this damn "game". Fear is the only possibility I can cling to that might explain my ridiculous behavior over these past few cycles.

The metformin really does seem to be working (altho you can't tell that from this cycle, yet). I've had 2 definitive ovulation cycles since I've been on it. My cycle length is reducing to something MUCH more respectable. I have an idea of when I *should* ovulate (which I haven't ever had in the whole time we've been doing this, other than the monitored cycles with the RE).

And yet, when it comes down to "doing the deed", I can't muster the energy to do the damned deed. I know, I know, it shouldn't feel that way. But it does... "baby making" sex SUCKS, and anyone that's been in this game long enough knows that.

The last time we were really "trying", hubby said that he felt like a sperm donor, a means to an end. I'm starting to relate to that feeling... starting to feel like a "sperm receptacle", or an egg factory. My life is once again being dictated by the thermometer, and it frustrates the hell out of me. So I rebel... "Fuck it" I say. And then I get that lovely confirmed ovulation on my chart, and I spend the 2 week wait kicking myself, knowing that we're not really "in" for that cycle. And that I have nobody to blame but myself.

Do I need a break? Maybe. Maybe the stress of all of this is too much right now. We have lots of other stuff going on right now, I'm getting into my busy season at work, our finances are a mess, the holidays are coming, our marriage can still certainly use some TLC...

Will I take a break? I doubt it. We're not getting any younger, we're at the perfect time of year to conceive and avoid that busy work season, I've finally found something that makes me ovulate and I don't want to waste those good cycles or go off the med...

Maybe I'll hope that unplanned sex will actually be timed well enough for a *surprise* pregnancy. Maybe really try to get my shit together on all the other stuff I'm feeling so overwhelmed by, and if a baby puts itself in the mix, it'll be a bonus. Maybe just say "fuck it" until after the busy season, and get back to the RE in May.

Or maybe I'll just keep on whining about it all...

On the Road Again....

and Again and Again and Again.

Have I mentioned how much I HATE that song? Hate it hate it hate it! My Dad used to sing it as we were heading for the annual reunion on his side of the family. 6 hours in the car (each way) to spend 4 days in a town that I was related to. Yep, the whole town... Kinda scary, isn't it? And did I mention that my Dad can't sing? As he likes to say, he "can't carry a tune in a bucket". So, I always tie that song to memories of those dreaded trips up north to spend time with that side of the family.

Anywho, we're heading out of town, again, tomorrow. Going up to do some more work on the camper, and Mike might even get some hunting in while we're there (altho that is not his priority).

By the end of this weekend, we'll have owned the camper for a total of 16 days. In that time, I'll have put over 2,000 miles on my ass in the truck for trips directly related to the camper. Bear with me while I run the math here for you. And my sincere apologies, as I'm sure my equations will not be properly formatted, but its been a while since I've even attempted algebra, lol.

The first weekend,we went to stay with our friends up north, which is about 125 miles away (250 mile round trip), and we went every day to look at the camper. It was about a 175 mile round trip from where we were staying. 250 + (175 x 3) = 775.

Then, I woke up that Monday morning not remembering if I had closed the roof vent on the camper. And "they" had rain forecasted for the whole week. And we had the only set of keys to the thing. And the camper was still at the sellers house, which is about a 400 mile round trip. So now we're at 400 + 775 = 1175. Still with me?

Then this past weekend (well, Friday of it anyway), we had to go meet up with the sellers. We still owed them the final payment on the camper, and they still had the hitch that they were "throwing in" with the purchase. And they live all the way across the state. We're about 3 miles from the eastern shore, and they're about 1 mile from the western shore, 200 miles from us. Another 400 mile round trip! That makes it 400 + 1175 = 1575.

Saturday was spent getting a new hitch installed, as the one they "threw in" was a rusted piece of crap that won't work on our truck. GRRRR! Another 100ish mile round trip, bringing our grand total to 1675.

Sunday, we got to go pick up the camper. We had to go back to the property the sellers own up north (200 miles away), take it to our friends that are so kind to let us leave it on their property for the winter (90 miles), and then come home (125 miles). 200 + 90 + 125 = 415. 415 + 1575 = 1990. Let's just call that 2,000.

And now tomorrow morning, we leave to go up to the camper again. Back to our friends house. Another 250 mile round trip... 2,250 miles, on my ass, in 16 days!

I so can't wait to put my ass On the Couch Again.

Come out, Come out, wherever you are...

AF is taking her sweet ass time getting here. I know she's coming, since today is my 2nd day of spotting, and my temp came down a little further this morning. I just wish she'd get here already! Especially since we leave for a camping trip tomorrow night, and I'll have limited access to plumbing for the weekend. I've been camping with the red witch before, and let me tell you, it ain't at the top of my list of favorite things to do!

Maybe I should go buy a pregnancy test. That seems to bring her on pretty quickly...


In other news:

I rediscovered my local library yesterday, and I'm in love! I haven't been to the library since high school, haven't even had a library card since then. I had forgotten how much fun it could be!

Well, I take that back. I've always LOVED bookstores. I have often said that I could spend an entire afternoon in a bookstore, just browsing thru the racks. Especially a bookstore with a coffee shop in it! Nothing wrong with mixing a little Mocha with your reading, right?

Unfortunately, my library doesn't have a coffee shop. But, I get to walk out of there with as many books as I want (I checked out 3 yesterday), and I don't have to pay them a dime! $30 afternoon (minimum) at a bookstore, or a FREE afternoon at the local library? Absolutely no contest!

the smoking non-smoker

I admit it, I smoke. I HATE that I do, and I really want to quit. I tried the new miracle drug and it actually worked pretty well. Except for the side effects.... there was the constant nausea, and the dreams?!?!? OMG the psychotic, bad drug trip kind of dreams that I was having! And then I started the Met, and decided that I couldn't handle 2 meds f'ing with my stomach, and well.... I decided the Met was more important.

Excuses? Probably. Us smokers are full of 'em.

But the truth is that I really wish I didn't smoke. I wish I had never picked up that horrid little cancer stick back in 7th grade. I wish I had the willpower to quit now, because I know that I need to. I'm embarrassed of it. So embarrassed that I don't smoke around the majority of my family, and I try to limit myself around my non-smoking friends.

The rest of the truth? Feeling all of that hasn't made it any easier to quit. In fact, the thought of NOT smoking sends me into a state of near panic-attack that can only be calmed by..... you guessed it... a smoke.

So, I will continue to smoke for now. I've always promised myself, and God, and anyone and everyone that will listen, that the moment I find out I'm pregnant, I am DONE. Until then (at least for now), its smoke 'em if ya got 'em.... and I got 'em.

appointment update and a blurp

well, I DID ovulate last cycle. Doc said "definitely between cd20 & 23", which is what we all thought anyway. I feel soooooooooooooooooooo much better, not only because I o'ed, but because it's comfirmation that I'm not crazy, and haven't taken you all with me down that road to crazy town!

did some bloodwork, and barring anything out of whack with the results, I go back in 4-6 months for another draw. beyond that, keep charting, and GET BUSY! lol

the other thing she told me was that I need to be on prenatal vitamins instead of just a women's one a day. so, on my way home, I stopped off at Walgreen's to buy a bottle. Minding my own business, walk to the cashier, who proceeds to announce a big, hearty, "Congratulations!!!"

"Umm, no congratulations needed, but thanks"

.... look of confusion & despair on poor cashier lady's face.... "but why the vitamins?"

and folks, I was SO proud of myself! instead of screaming at her that it was ABSOLUTELY NONE OF HER FUCKING BUSINESS, I politely said "we're trying, and these are doctor's orders"

she then of course had to tell me about her daughter in law, who, as soon as she married the cashier women's son, told him that "1 year after we get married, I want to own our own home, and be pregnant". 22 months, almost to the day, after they got married, their first child was born.....

the fertile little bitch