Monday, July 28, 2008
ER...and the weekly top 40 Current mood: blank Category: Blogging
Can't sleep. Going to blog so I can vent and perhaps lull myslef back to bed. The big ER(egg retrieval) is tomorrow morning at 8:20. So I can't have a HUGE glass o'wata like I want. I'm not as anxious about this one. I am looking forward to the valium and getting knocked out. This week has completely sucked. My poor ovaries are slam packed with eggs and I've been on enough hormones via injections to kill a small animal. So needless to say, I'm ready to get the whole thing over with. Last night I cried when I realized that I couldn't take my migraine meds. I developed a HUGE -ass headacher after the HUGE-ass trigger shot in my bum. Which is hella sore, thank you. I put poor, sweet Nick throught the ringer as I lay sobbing like a 4-year-old on the couch preparing for the big stick in the butt. I have no idea why I lost it. Could be the exorbidant size of this needle and knowing that he had to stick it all the way in. (All sexual references, even the hilrarious ones, are falling on deaf ears, thank you). But it was finally done and I was able to watch ultimate fighting in relative peace with an ice pack.
The whole retriaval process is so odd. You show up at the offiice just like it was any other visit and then they lead you to the IVF suite--as if adding the word "suite" should made a person feel more pampered. I did not feel pampered last time. I do not feel pampered anyplace where I am not allowed to wear my bra. After donning the lovely gown and footies and fetching cap, I get to go and sit in this rock-a-billy chair so the nurse can: A. give me my fucking valium and B. give me a shot in the arm so she can connect my IV. I was worried about the IV. But the shot numbs things up rather nicely. Didn't feel a thing. It was only after noticing all the large drops of blood on the floor that I realized I had a needle in my vein. Felt kind of queasy then. Then we wait. I remember feeling annoyed that Nick and I weren't having any mind-blowing conversations about life at this point. It seems rather trite to be thumbing throught the Sarah Jessica Parker issue of Vogue while waiting for such a monumental event to take place. But I did it anyway. (Thinking of bringing along some deeper reading material this time. Anything by James Joyce should be sufficient) Finally the lovely anesthesiologist appears and leads me to the "room." Didn't like the room. It feels large and sterile and reminds me of that scene in "The Exorcist" where Regan has all those horrid medical tests before she loses it and goes all spider-feral. It's cold and one feels quite vulerable when placed on such an ugly chair/table/stirrup thingie. It's not an alluring positon, believe me. Thank God, she knocks me out relatively quickly. I was hoping for the whole big room getting dimmer and blurry experience as the "drugs take hold." Nope, I was out like a light. Then it was over and I was rambling about a trip to Spider-Skull island a la Scooby Doo. Kidding. I hang out for a while and then get rolled down to the car. Yes, I get to ride in a wheelchair. I can only surmise that I babble on and on while Nick drives me home and plops me promptly in the bed. Let's hope it's as smooth this time around.
Dammit. Not sleepy at all....
ER...and the weekly top 40 Current mood: blank Category: Blogging
Can't sleep. Going to blog so I can vent and perhaps lull myslef back to bed. The big ER(egg retrieval) is tomorrow morning at 8:20. So I can't have a HUGE glass o'wata like I want. I'm not as anxious about this one. I am looking forward to the valium and getting knocked out. This week has completely sucked. My poor ovaries are slam packed with eggs and I've been on enough hormones via injections to kill a small animal. So needless to say, I'm ready to get the whole thing over with. Last night I cried when I realized that I couldn't take my migraine meds. I developed a HUGE -ass headacher after the HUGE-ass trigger shot in my bum. Which is hella sore, thank you. I put poor, sweet Nick throught the ringer as I lay sobbing like a 4-year-old on the couch preparing for the big stick in the butt. I have no idea why I lost it. Could be the exorbidant size of this needle and knowing that he had to stick it all the way in. (All sexual references, even the hilrarious ones, are falling on deaf ears, thank you). But it was finally done and I was able to watch ultimate fighting in relative peace with an ice pack.
The whole retriaval process is so odd. You show up at the offiice just like it was any other visit and then they lead you to the IVF suite--as if adding the word "suite" should made a person feel more pampered. I did not feel pampered last time. I do not feel pampered anyplace where I am not allowed to wear my bra. After donning the lovely gown and footies and fetching cap, I get to go and sit in this rock-a-billy chair so the nurse can: A. give me my fucking valium and B. give me a shot in the arm so she can connect my IV. I was worried about the IV. But the shot numbs things up rather nicely. Didn't feel a thing. It was only after noticing all the large drops of blood on the floor that I realized I had a needle in my vein. Felt kind of queasy then. Then we wait. I remember feeling annoyed that Nick and I weren't having any mind-blowing conversations about life at this point. It seems rather trite to be thumbing throught the Sarah Jessica Parker issue of Vogue while waiting for such a monumental event to take place. But I did it anyway. (Thinking of bringing along some deeper reading material this time. Anything by James Joyce should be sufficient) Finally the lovely anesthesiologist appears and leads me to the "room." Didn't like the room. It feels large and sterile and reminds me of that scene in "The Exorcist" where Regan has all those horrid medical tests before she loses it and goes all spider-feral. It's cold and one feels quite vulerable when placed on such an ugly chair/table/stirrup thingie. It's not an alluring positon, believe me. Thank God, she knocks me out relatively quickly. I was hoping for the whole big room getting dimmer and blurry experience as the "drugs take hold." Nope, I was out like a light. Then it was over and I was rambling about a trip to Spider-Skull island a la Scooby Doo. Kidding. I hang out for a while and then get rolled down to the car. Yes, I get to ride in a wheelchair. I can only surmise that I babble on and on while Nick drives me home and plops me promptly in the bed. Let's hope it's as smooth this time around.
Dammit. Not sleepy at all....
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