Tay-Sachs paper trail

A History repeats entry

When I had my blood draw done (oh, who are we kidding - it wasn't so much a "draw" as it was an oil rig set up to suck out as much fluid as earthly possible from the limited supply my body carries), one of the tests the technician was drawing for was Tay-Sachs.

He didn't know what that was. So he looks it up, figures out where it needs to go, what size vial, what kind of label, etc., etc. I drag my pathetic, now-empty veins to the car and pretend I'm not too faint to drive. I'm not home an hour when we get a phone call from the lab. The Tay-Sachs sample needs a form filled out, could I come back that day and fill it out.

Sure. I've had orange juice. And mugged a vampire for his stash of blood. I'm good to go.

I pop in a little while later, tell the clerk about the phone call and she gets the tech. Who comes out from the back, leans across the reception desk and whispers, "You Jewish?"

I lean forward towards him and whisper, "Uh huh." And think, "Why? You got good kosher candy?"

He shows me this form, which in bold letters across the top states something to the effect of, "persons of the Jewish persuasion must complete this form." I think this poor guy felt that was discriminatory - why should I be singled out for a blood test because I'm Jewish? I explained that Tay-Sachs is a disease that is prevalent in Jews, and he seemed much happier then. I filled out the form (which mainly asked my Jewish ancestry (Ashkenazi or Sephardi), if my husband is Jewish, and his ancestry, and was there any history of Tay-Sachs in the family), handed it off to the receptionist and went on my merry way.

Ha - I should have brought a sleeping bag. I wasn't home very long when I got the call that I knew had to be coming. They didn't take enough of a sample for the Tay-Sachs test, could I come in for another draw. Fine. If you can find it, you can have it.

All was well and good until a few days later. Apparently, not only the testing lab needed the form filled out, but the test results were then sent to a local hospital which records all that information for some reason and they need the form, too. Why can't they just take a copy of the form I gave the lab, you ask? Yeah, I asked that too. Nobody knew why. So off I went to the lab to fill out another form, identical ot the first, for them to send ot the hospital.

On my next visit to the fertility clinic, the secretary called me over and said there was an additional form I needed to fill out, and could I do it while I was there. Of course, I'd already filled out 85 bajillion forms, what was one more?

Wouldn't you know, it was that damn Tay-Sachs form again.

posted by projgen @ 03:36 2 comments

From Hell’s heart, I stab at thee

A History Repeats entry

After having all the blood work done, the clinic doctor tells us I need to lose weight. (You’d think with all the blood that was drawn from me, that alone would have brought my weight down.) So, on to the diet bandwagon I jumped. After two months, I lost enough weight for the doc to give the go-ahead for us to start our first cycle. Happily, we skipped into the orientation session with Nurse Lancet, and she whipped out Ye Ole Big Box of Freakin’ Huge Needles and I proceeded to get very queasy.

I hate needles.

They give me the willies. From the very beginning, I told Hubby that he would need to stab me (and he wasn't allowed to enjoy it, either!). I prayed that I would get the snorty stuff (Synarel) or the stabby pen (Gonal-f), but no, I got straight-up, stick ‘em in needles. And just for a good laugh, in the package they sent home with us, someone accidentally dropped in a handful of 3cc/mL syringes. Those would be the ones with the 1 ½” needles. Do you know how long 1 ½” inches is? Let me show you:


Here’s a second view, comparing to my thumb:

(And no, the needle is not twisted. It’s an effect caused by scanning. Makes it seem even worse, eh? You have twist it like a screwdriver to get the sucker in…::shudder::)

Imagine shoving that puppy into your belly. Ouch. I nearly had palpitations when I saw Gargantuan, and I cried just thinking about sticking myself with THAT. You can’t imagine my relief when I called the clinic and they said that was a mistake. Phew.

Well, the very first night rolls around, and with a palpable mixture of excitement and terror, we load up the first needle. Suddenly, out of nowhere, I get a burst of courage: “Let me do it!” I gleefully exclaim. Hubby looks at me, doubtfully, but being the supportive Hubby that he is, he hands me the needle. I pinch the belly, identify my point of entry, aim, press the tip of the needle softly against the target, squeeze my eyes shut, start squeaking “owowowowowow” and plunge. Omigosh, I did it!!! I did it!! Yay me!!

In my excitement, I forgot to unpinch and release the needle. Duh. It hung there, like a weary soldier, until I remembered to withdraw it a few seconds later. But it didn’t matter, I was so proud of myself. And I stabbed myself everyday, twice a day, for the next 13 days. Not that it helped our fertility any. But I still did it. All by myself.

posted by projgen @ 23:47 3 comments

Loss of blood makes me woozy

A History repeats entry

There's a minor recovery from the loss of blood. I'm still feeling - not quite there. Or, rather, not quite here. Fine distinction. I'm having trouble getting motivated to do anything. Clean the kitchen, rearrange the diningroom, do laundry. I'm supposed to be Suzie Homemaker, staying home while hero-hubby brings home the bacon (soy bacon for us kosher types) for me to fry up in the pan, but it just ain't happenin'. Where's my motivation?!

::sigh::

I guess my motivation should be to have a home that I'm proud to have guests in. But I don't care if they see the dust on my chatchkes (point of clarity: that's chatchkes, as in stuff, not gutkes, as in undies. It's easy to get the two confused, because with all the (in)fertility stuff that's going on, we haven't had nookie in so long, I'm sure my gutkes DO have dust on them.)

Well, at least I'm motivated to Jew-icise the ol' feminist perfume ad: I'm Sadie Homemakerberg, staying home while hubby-mensch brings home the brisket for me to roast up in the pan. Oh, who am I kidding? I don't even do the cooking. That's for gourmet hero-hubby. Tomorrow, he'll probably tell me that he's been darning his own socks.

Yeah? Well, he still can't balance the checkbook. So there.

posted by projgen @ 23:03 1 comments

The lady needs a proper introduction

I realized with my many ramblings here that I haven't really properly introduced myself. A little hint in my profile, a bit of a preview in my first post, but that's about it. So here goes.

My hubby (hmmm. What should I call him? Can I just always say "Hubby" or is that weird? I've always liked "Tad" but is that an appropriate name for an older Jewish man? Let me think on this awhile.) and I married in our young 30's. We always talked about having children, but Hubby had er, um, a blockage. So he had surgery, Urologist #1 pronounced it a huge success, "it couldn't have been more technically perfect!" We should see results in about 6 months, so we should be patient.

So we wait.

And wait.

And wait.

And have a test.

"0/0" Family Doctor says. 0 sperm, 0 motility. That doesn't sound so technically perfect. Because we're no longer young 30's at this point (this is a good place to point out that it takes Hubby a while to actually take care of things, so the surgery wasn't immediately after we got married. And it also had to be rescheduled, which added another 3 months to the already long delay), FD rushes us off to Urologist #2, who insists that because I'm now old, we have to move fast. Perhaps FD should have told U#2 why we were visiting and then U#2 wouldn't have kept us waiting 4 months to see him in the first place, thereby removing a little bit of the rush.

So off we go to schedule a MESA, which takes another 3 months (I'm not sure what constitutes "fast" in this man's world). Success! The U#2 retrieved 6 (or 8, I can't remember now) straws and said Hubby's little guys were healthy and strong.

So off we go to the fertility clinic, where I'm told that in addition to being old, I'm also fat. I need to lose weight. Alrighty, no problem. I can be very dedicated when I need to be, and I started exercising like a fiend (food's never been my problem; I eat very well. I have a metabolism like molasses and unless I am extremely active every day, I will remain stable, but not lose) and voila! I lose the weight. Clinic Doctor says go ahead and we start. Since we're using extracted sperm, we automatically have to do ICSI. I'll get into the details in my "history repeats" entries, but suffice it to say, Cycle #1 did not work.

This was a few months ago, Clinic Doctor sends a letter saying I have good eggs in spite of my advanced age and should try again.

Big whoop. We haven't won the lottery yet, Surgeries #1 and #2 and Cycle #1 ate up all our savings, in the meantime, Hubby hasn't had a lot of work, so there is no way in hell we can afford to do another cycle (no, health insurance does not cover any - any - of the costs). By the time we've recovered financially, I'll really be too old, and probably won't be able to convince any clinics to take us, assuming my eggs are still good. All this, of course, is assuming we can somehow recover enough to have a spare 10 grand lying around.

So now I've gone and gotten myself all upset again. I haven't cried over this in a while, but putting it all down on "paper" sorta slaps you in the face with it. Sorry, I've got to go stick my head in the sand now.

Oh. And it was very nice to meet you.

posted by projgen @ 00:55 5 comments

Bloody hell

A History repeats entry

Step one is done. Went for the day 3 FSH test. And proceeded to lose 10, count 'em, 10 vials of blood. I actually ran out. While the last vial was being filled, you could see my previously vigorous - squirting, even - blood flow diminish to a sad drip-drip-drip. Thank G-d it was the last vial. Thank G-d the tech got juuust enough into said vial.

I hate needles and I would have been right royally ticked off if I had to have another vein poked just to get that last vial topped off. Especially since the tech used my one good vein (omigosh, a tech who actually listened to me when I said, "this is my good vein.") and finding oil from another well just was not going to be easy.

Hey, I hear you snickering. Those of you who know I'm in for weeks of jabbing myself with needles on a daily basis can just back off. I'm gonna make my hubby do it. That's my revenge for his taking up two-thirds of the bed for all these years. Yes, my revenge is to make my husband hurt me.

I know, that sounds sick. But in my world, it works.

[note: I actually managed to stick myself. I did it. I was proud. I know I lost my revenge op, but it was worth it.]

posted by projgen @ 03:59 0 comments

The computer thinks I’m dumb

A History repeats entry

So here I am, I'm trying to register on an infertility site, so I can read and post in the forum with my questions. Except, it's not accepting my long-held moniker. I've been using this same user ID for 20 years. Yep, used it back in the ol' mainframe days. But it won't accept it and it won't tell me why (someone else has it? it's some vile curse word in Hebrew or Yiddish? Not enough characters? WHAT IS IT?).

Now I'm completely frustrated, I lose my cool and I grumble at the computer: "This is..." and I type, "Stupid." And I hit the Enter key with all my frustration.

And the damn program accepts it.

Great.

Now my ID on this site is

Stupid.

As if my ego weren't battered enough.

posted by projgen @ 02:56 0 comments

History repeats

I started writing "blog" entries many, many moons ago before we even started the IVF process. I thought I might want to start my own blog, for cathartic reasons. But then I got too caught up in the IVF ride, and I honestly thought I had nothing special to add to everyone else's stories, so I forgot about it.

For therapy my own amusement, I will be posting those entries here. I didn't make note of the original dates, but it's not really important. I will, however, note when I am posting an historical entry rather than something current. I'm easily confused and don't want to beffudle myself into thinking I'm in the midst of another cycle.

Go forth and read.

posted by projgen @ 05:54 0 comments