I am so behind on my blogging, reading and commenting. I am absolutely covered up at work this week and last with conferences and end of fiscal year reviews. Please bear with me, I promise I’ll be back in full, sarcastic blogging force soon!
I spent all of yesterday in the ER with Mr. Husband. He had a bike wreck on the way to work that pumbled the left side of his body. He has a pitch black bruise the size of one of those pie-making pumpkins on the left side of his belly that is so swollen it appears an organ is trying to push its way out of his abdominal cavity. I am so thankful for his office mates who called 911 when he started to feel physically ill after the wreck. Thank goodness he was ok. After several ultra sounds and a CT scan the doctors determined there was no serious internal damage. Just the biggest, baddest bruise they had seen in a long while.
During our time in the ER three other patients filtered in and out of the other half of the room. First there was a woman who had been in a terrible car accident and shattered her arm completely. Her cries made my skin crawl. Then a man who had been doing a home renovation and cut off part of his finger. Around 2 p.m. a 62 year-old man who had tried to end his life by shooting himself in the stomach was rushed in. The trauma team packed into the other half of our room, their bodies pressed like ghosts against the thin curtain that separated Mr. Husbands’ bruise from the 62 year-old man’s life-sucking injury.
I listened in horror as the old man explained that he had shot himself. He was so depressed. No, he had never tried to hurt himself before. He was just so depressed. My father is 61. I can’t fathom someone being so sad at this age that they try to end it all. Looking at my husband in his bandages and hearing that poor soul who shot himself slammed my life into perspective. For a moment I could see so clearly through the infertility haze – there is so much more to this life than making a baby with our DNA. Even with jacked up ovaries, potential lupus and four rowdy cats who sometimes poop in the bathtub, I am tremendously fortunate.
Last night I spent time doting on Mr. Husband, something I have not done a lot of since we started this high-drama, high-stress journey through infertility. I reminded him how much I love him and how relieved I am that he was O.K. He was not the only lucky one in that ER. I was, too.
Now for a quick CD update. Today is CD 24 and do you know what I’m still doing? STIMMING! Oh my freaking gawd, y’all! I’m so tired of injecting myself! Last week Dr. Hope had me up the dosage from 37.5 to 75 iu. In about five days time my ovaries sprung to life and about a zillion follicles started growing. My E2 was at 327. Dr. Hope is trying hard to keep me from hyper stimulating, but at the last scan he did not seem very optimistic. Tonight I drop my meds back down to 37.5 and pray that the follicles keep on growing, but not too much. Grow conservatively follies, grow!
And finally, a quick request for good thoughts, vibes, prayers, dances, whatever you fancy for my little bro. He is also in a hospital far away from his family with some mysterious intestinal thing that has him very sick. While I know he will be fine and dandy after this runs its course, he is currently in a lot of pain. Any good ju ju you can send him would be awesome!