September 6th, 2011. CD7.
Well, tonight’s my last night of Femara for this cycle. Dr. Fran allowed me to be medicated without monitoring, but no Ovidrel for me.
This is almost like doing it the old-fashioned way! Take my temperature? OPK’s?? What are we, Amish?!
Just pills. No shots. No ultrasounds, no blood work. Well, except for the beta, I’m sure.
With this new “grown-up hours” work schedule, I just don’t have the time to be monitored. Maybe if my doctor was in the same city as my job… or the same state, even. This hour-long commute (one way!) to the doc’s office just isn’t going to cut it. I think I may have to find a new RE.
And I was just starting to like the one I’ve got!
Anyway, enough about my dusty reproductive system. How about a life update?
Things are going well here. We are mostly settled in; I spent most of yesterday in my stretchiest stretchy-pants organizing, sorting, putting away, and decorating. There are a few walls left to paint, but it’s been too chilly and damp for the paint to dry. Which is the excuse I’ve been using to not paint. Because I suck at painting.
In other news, I am loving my new job. The people are progressively more awesome every day, and I’m working on controlling my latte addiction–which is not easy, given the proximity of the coffee shop.
I’m also learning my way around the area more. I can already get to work, two different grocery stores, the pet store, and Target (much to the husband’s dismay). I also know how to drive the mile through the neighborhood to the in-laws’ house. All without my GPS! …I don’t have much of a sense of direction, or a very good driving memory, so this is big news. Don’t judge me.
I’m also finding that it’s nice having family and friends close by. We were able to go to a bonfire on Sunday night and actually stay late without worrying about driving a long distance home. It was great. I consumed four beers, too. That was also great.
I got a little tipsy after my second adult beverage in probably six months, and told the whole bonfire crowd about how the only time of the month I can/I feel like having a beer is when I’m taking fertility drugs. I then had to explain the month down to the day:
Days 1 – 3: Aunt Flo is ruining my life, and although drinking sounds like a sweet escape, it would really just make me feel even crappier.
Days 4 – 7: Femara days. Feeling better; Aunt Flo is on her way out, and having a drink is an attainable reality.
Days 8 – 15: Technically I could drink, but since alcohol dehydrates a person, and I don’t want to compromise my cervical mucus, I generally stay away. (FYI, don’t ever say “cervical mucus” at a bonfire. For reals.)
Days 16 – 28: The two week wait = I could be pregnant, and I want to wait until after my kid is born to start damaging him or her. No drinky.
It might not have been a classy move on my part, but it was fun.
Oh, and then this happened–I drunkenly counseled a twenty-one year old about not waiting to get things checked out if she thinks she might have a fertility problem.
Now, this may not have been responsible of me, but I was on fertility jag and she brought up the issue, so I went with it. She is completely single, in school, and has no intention of babies any time soon, but she mentioned being concerned that she and her previous boyfriend never even had a pregnancy scare. They were together for two years, and had a rather casual birth control routine (read: none). I told her to mention it to her Ob-Gyn and not to take no for an answer if the doctor wouldn’t pursue further testing.
I don’t care if you’re thirty and married and have been trying unsuccessfully to conceive for years, or if you’re twenty-one and single and just have “a feeling” that something is wrong–we are our own best advocates when it comes to our health.
If something doesn’t feel right, get it checked out. And don’t back down until you’re sure!
…Okay, I’m back off the soapbox now. Please return to your regularly scheduled embarrassed head-shaking.