What I appreciate about you, cyber friends, is that I get to share the details of my newly-begun cycle without worrying that your eyes will glaze over or that you'll quickly change the subject to talk about, say, grass growing. No, if it's too lethargic a conversation, you can just move on to something more exciting, like Nieman Marcus' Spring shoes. My own husband, God love him, tries hard to pay attention. Ask him today what Lupron is, though, and he'll tell you I spend too much on makeup.
But a new cycle has begun and I need to share. The Lupron has continued, which really is no big deal. I'm stuck though with a 1pm shot time because my shots started during vacation. In the glare of the Caribbean sun, I figured that was a good time to take a break from the beach. Come back, dust the sand off my belly, administer shot. I didn't think at the time I would be continuing to shoot up through the rest of my 30's, which unfortunately requires a closed office door. Sometimes I close the blinds.
Now I'm on five days of Provera pills to bring on a period. So far, it's been three days of headaches. I blamed my boss for the headache my first day. Decided it was E's fault my second day. I accepted responsibility on the third day. Two more days to go. More blame to spread around.
Next we go on to nightly shots of Delestrogen. Intra-muscle. This concerns me from a process standpoint. My only experience with an intra-muscle shot is the trigger shot in November. I put a lot of thought into how this would go down. The nurse drew a circle on my left hip; I reasoned I was right handed so giving myself the shot should be easy. I just needed a well-defined target and a steady hand. Later that night, I learned I couldn't wrap my right arm around my body to reach the circle. (Next career: logistician.) So, I had to enlist my rock, E. I knew by the unnatural greenish hue in his face that he would not be sticking a needle in my hip. So, I used my left hand, got the needle in the target, and asked my rock to simply depress the plunger, which he did. His exact words, "I need to go throw up."
Naturally, I have a few concerns about how I'm going to get this done for the next 30 days. The right hip I can handle, I think. I guess for the left hip, I'm going to have to back up against a wall or McGyver-like use some duct tape and paper clips to fashion something. Or make nightly visits to the immediate care center. "Cough, cough, I'm sure I have bronchitis. Do you mind administering this shot for me while you take the throat culture?"
To complete the journey, or as I like to call this next attempt, "Is there a silver lining?", I'll double up on the oral estrogen and, thankfully, dump the climara patch. I'll continue the acupuncture. I'm cutting down on caffeine, and generally trying to eat healthier and exercise more.
So that's the schedule. Thanks for listening. I really mean that. If I've learned anything during this journey through infertility, I've learned the value of listening. No, the gift of listening. Just listening. Coupled with a sympathetic smile. A hankie. Words of encouragement.
It means more than I can say.