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Archive for January, 2009

Not great news this morning. When I was doing IUI I never could get a dominant follicle to grow at the right time. Now I’m doing IVF and I don’t want a dominant follicle and guess what I’ve got? Yep. That sucker is still growing and coming out on top. Lots of good medium ones, though, so maybe they’ll just let that one go. I didn’t like the looks of it and neither did the sonographer extraordinaire, M. No doctor in monitoring again today. I’m feeling the love, let me tell you.

Probably have to go back tomorrow, but will update more later when I hear from my nurse. But for now, not feeling the warm fuzzies.

Right: 17.0, 10.5, 8.1
Left: 12.5, 12.0, 10.9, 10.0, 7.7, 7.6

Yeah, not looking so hot. Possible they’ll just let that 17 go and hope the others take over. But the risk with any dominant follicle is that it’ll take over and suppress the others. Doesn’t seem to be happening so far, but who knows. I suppose anything goes at this point. I also don’t love the fact that I’m still not looking at a lot of follicles – considering my typical antral follicle counts, this is suprising (My typical antral follicle counts are in the thirties). I know it only takes one to work, but seriously, I have to have something to worry about, right?

Meanwhile, headaches still suck (possible sign that my estrogen is still in the crapper – typical for me), and my ovaries feel like they’re the size of baseballs, though from the looks of today’s monitoring that’s probably not the case.

Update: My estrogen level is 226 (not great, but good rise from Thursday when it was 99). Meds stay the same, back tomorrow morning. Unfortunately, the only appointment time they had available meant canceling two meetings. Not good. Sigh.

I am not expecting great news tomorrow. Am hoping a doctor actually shows his or her face in monitoring, at least.

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The Best Kind of Support

I had lunch with LJ today and feel a million times better than I did before I saw her. We talked about the evils of Lupron. This pervasive headache. The sleeplessness, but the everpresent exhaustion. The headaches. The moodiness. The headaches. It’s torturous, really. “It’s not just me, right?” It’s totally the Lupron, she assured me. Thank God, I said, because I swear my husband’s probably going to divorce me if this is the New Me.

We talked about the suckiness of the suckitude. She empathized. She provided support. She assured me that I would return to being a normal human being with emotional control. A good wife and mother who loves her husband. It would happen, she promised, once I wasn’t on these god-forsaken drugs anymore. “But while you’re on Lupron? You’re a saint, your previously perfect husband can do nothing right. That’s the way it is. He’s evil, you’re perfect. It’s not you; it’s the Lupron.”

And I said, “And the worst part is, I don’t get to drop my dose! No sirree. I’m still on 20 units a day! Most people get to drop to 5 when they start stims!”

Her face fell into a state of shock. She reached over and held my arm. “Oh my God!” she gasped. “Oh honey! I don’t know how you’re standing up! I started out at 10! I’m not exaggerating when I say I would have been entertaining thoughts of suicide on 20 units a day!”

And suddenly, it fell into perspective. The headaches that slice through my head like a piece of glass jutting diagonally through my skull. The bitchiness. The lack of an emotional thermostat. The inability to empathize with my husband. It’s not (entirely) me.

I do hate whining about it. I know that I made a choice to do this. I know that I have children already. I know that I consciously decided that my family was not yet complete. I know, therefore, that I am the one choosing to bestow these side effects upon myself. But that doesn’t make these piercing headaches any more pleasant. And it probably doesn’t make my husband enjoy me any more than he would otherwise. I know I brought this on myself. I know that I could make it all stop by simply – stopping all the drugs, right now. It would all go away. And with it, my dreams would fade as well.

So I’m going to try to stop whining about these damn headaches. And I’m going to TRY to be nicer to my husband. And I’m going to TRY to stop worrying about being so tired. Because it IS true… I did bring this on myself.

But I make no promises…. because my head? really, really, really does hurt.

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Man, I gotta tell you, I thought I missed those 7am monitoring appointments, but I was wrong. What the frick, man? This was a lot easier before when I could roll out of bed and drive there without any responsibilities at home before walking out the door. Not that I’m complaining, mind you. I most certainly am not. It’s just different, this time.

A lot of people talk about the difference between their experiences with primary and secondary infertility. I don’t think of it that way for me. For me, this is no different. I still suffer from exactly the same conditions of the primary infertility that sent me down this road the first time; I just happen to have children now. It’s different than if I’d had no difficulty conceiving the first time around (i.e. no primary infertility) and then found myself afflicted with infertility in trying to have another child (suddenly found myself with unexpected secondary infertility). But for me, this so-called “secondary” infertility is merely an extension of the same, and I hate the distinction – it belittles the experience; makes it seem less valid in a way, and frankly, it isn’t.

If anything, this experience is just as intense as the last one, but for different reasons. This time I pulled out the big guns, so while I may have been able to remain more emotionally detached (after all, if this fails miserably, can’t I take some solace in what I do have waiting for me at home?) had I been doing IUIs – the stakes are higher this time. The drugs are more intense, the regimen is stricter, the attention to detail is greater. My emotional response is artificially inflated. My ability to focus on the myriad of details that I need to focus on is understandably reduced. My stress level is increased. It is simply a different experience.

Anyway, I had my monitoring appointment at seven frickin’ o’clock this morning. Dracula only had to stab me once this time, though the little bugger dug around in there for a good bit. He reuses the same spot every time, because it’s the only spot he can get a vein in. I swear I’m going to have the biggest darned bruise on that arm by the time this cycle is done. Then into an U/S room. Last time M (sonographer extraordinaire) walked in on me before I’d even gotten my skirt off, so I hurried out of my clothes and jumped up on the table, my heart racing and then sat… and sat… fortunately I had a good book with me (The Memory Keeper’s Daughter, have you read it? I just started it, but it’s captivating) And, in she walked.

Now, I hate to be the complainer and all (sarcasm), but seriously, I’ve been gone two years now. And in those two years, they still have not hung a mobile in Room 1. Dr. S. (not my doc) brags that he personally hung all of the mobiles in all of the U/S rooms, and good for him, but hello? Room 1 does not have a mobile. And every time I saw him in the two years that I went to Ye Olde Fertility Clinic, I congratulated him on his efforts to give women something pretty to look at in the U/S rooms, and then I gave him hell for not hanging one in Room 1. Now he’s had two whole additional years to make this right and has he? NO!

Dr. S. was on call for monitoring today, but he didn’t come into my room, so M got to hear my (good natured) rant about it. She told me to give him some crap about it – but I never saw him, unfortunately. Oh, but I’ll get my chance! Oh yes I will! With the blogosphere as my witness, if I have to buy a mobile and hang it myself, by the time I’m done with Ye Olde Fertility Clinic, there will be a mobile in Room 1! (I was thinking maybe this one, what do you think?)

Anywhozit, M and I had a lovely conversation whilst she perused my ovaries. I love M – she is what makes Ye Olde Fertility Clinic entirely tolerable. M and my nurse, really. Love them both. We gave one of my follicles a stern talking to because I didn’t like the looks of its dominance. So M poked it and told it to cut it out. She also warned the little buggers that they’d better turn into a singleton. And expressed a preference on sex (but I won’t state that here lest my child someday find out that I had a preference).

I had four good sized follicles on either side, and a bunch of others that she counted but didn’t measure (I lost count, can’t remember). I feel like 8 good sized follicles at this stage of the game isn’t a lot. It worries me, but it’s also early, so we’ll just have to see what they decide to do. The follicles are measuring:

Right: 11.5, 8.5, 8.7, and 6.9
Left: 8.1, 8.4, 8.1, and 6.6

I don’t know yet what they’ll do about my meds or next appointment. They’ll either screw up and tell me to come in on Saturday (no can do, doc), or they’ll let me wait until Sunday. It’s possible that the compromise will be that I have to go back in tomorrow and back in on Sunday. We’ll see. I used to be able to very accurately predict what they’d do to my medication doses after each monitoring appointment, but all bets are off on this one – I have absolutely no idea what they’re going to do to me. I’m thinking they’ll keep me the same? But who knows. For all I know they’ll double it. (Kidding)

I hope I don’t have to go in tomorrow. My kids have speech therapy at 7:30am. Gah.

P.S. Lupron headaches still suck mightily

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As veterans of infertility treatment, we do so many injections that it becomes second nature. We can practically do them without thinking about them. We joke that we could probably do them blindfolded. Well, last night, I almost got my chance. I was in the middle of giving myself one of my two injections and… someone snuck up behind me and blindfolded me! No, wait, that’s not right. Um… Oh right. I was in the middle of giving myself on of my two injections and… the power went out. And flickered back on. And off. And on. And off. And on… and off. And there it stayed. So I’m standing there with a needle hanging out of me wondering what to do, but what are you gonna do, right? So out it came, I found the cap, disposed of the needle appropriately, put everything away in the fridge and said, “Now what?”

Yeah.

So that brings me to last night’s injections. Yes, this post is all backward. The fact that I even had injections to TAKE last night is news, isn’t it? So I started stims last night. Because I had my Lupron evaluation yesterday morning. I got to Ye Olde Fertility Clinic in the morning and Dracula called me back for bloodwork. He only had to bite me twice to get any blood, poor thing. I think he was mortified that he missed, but that’s not shocking. Eventually I got called in to an ultrasound room. No sooner am I in the room and close the door, but I start to unbutton my skirt and in walk M (sonographer extraordinaire) and SuperDoc.

Oh for crying out loud, M, give a girl a minute! M kicked SuperDoc out and turned her back while I bitched at her for rushing me (jokingly of course). “Well, welcome back, huh?” she said, bemusedly. “Yeah, thanks for the warm welcome! I guess you’re the welcoming committee!” Anyway, apparently, my ovaries were sufficiently unperky (7 follicles on the right, 8 on the left… far less than usual), and my lining looked good, and my bloodwork must have looked just fine because I started stims last night – 125 IUs of Follistim and 37.5 IUs of Luveris.

There was a little bit of drama about the Luveris – The Luveris comes in 75 IU unit doses. I’m only taking 37.5 IUs, which is to say … half a vial each night. So I casually said to my husband the other night, “I wonder if I’m supposed to waste half each night, or if I’m supposed to save the other half and take it the next night.” My husband is a pharmacist, so he took a look at the packaging and said, definitively, “You need to waste it each night.”

“Really? Are you sure? I’m not sure I’ll have enough if I do that…”
“Yes, I’m absolutely positive. If you don’t, it could start growing things. There are no preservatives in here. You need to waste it.”
“Okay, I guess I’ll just refill it if I run out.”

So when my nurse called yesterday to tell me to start the Follistim and the Luveris, I confirmed that i was just taking half a vial of Luveris each night. “Yes, so put in 1cc of sterile water and mix the Luveris and then draw out half and put the rest in the fridge for the next night.”

“Um, really? Because S said I couldn’t do that…”

My nurse said they’ve been told for years you can do that and said that I’m more than welcome to refill it if that would make him happy or I could check with the pharmacy I filled it at, or whatever worked for us, but that they’ve never had a problem with it, etc. Oooookay.

Not really keen on getting a skin infection from a random bottle of Luveris, I thought maybe my husband (who works in a hospital and therefore doesn’t work with a lot of fertility meds)… ANYWAY, I figured maybe I should call the pharmacist that specializes in this stuff. So I did and I explained that my pharmacist husband was a little jumpy about me reusing the vial, but that my nurse had told me to do so and what did THEY recommend?

“Well, I can’t recommend that. You’d run the risk of an infection, and the manufacter doesn’t recommend it either. I’m sure your doctor’s office has never had a problem with it, which is why they say it’s fine, but it’s not something I can recommend.”

So fine. Then my husband comes back with, “Well, you can put it in the fridge and tomorrow you can just look at it and see if the solution is clear or cloudy. If it’s clear, you’re good.”

“Well, is that a definitive test?”
“No.”
“Well, here’s the thing, it’s a $50 copay to refill it once vs. my personal safety here. $50 isn’t cheap. It’s an unlikely reaction I could have. $50 isn’t cheap, but it’s yet another $50 on top of all the other $50 copays we’ve paid for all the other medications. Sooner or later it adds up to real money. But it’s $50 vs. the possibility of an infection…”
“Yeah. Refill the medication.”

I mean, I’m not trying to be Ms. DramaRama here, but seriously. How stupid would I feel if I ended up with the creeping crud because of this?

Anywhozit, stims started last night. Still taking Lupron. Headaches still suck mightily. I haven’t killed my husband yet, though, which is a positive sign. Back to the clinic on Thursday.

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You’ll be happy to know my husband and I have kissed and made up, so to speak. We’re all good. I no longer think he’s the devil, though he probably thinks I am. Meh.

In less happy news, these headaches are killers. They suck. Seriously. LJ’s right – Forget torture devices, Lupron should be used to get international spies to break.

Man this sucks.

7:45am appt. for monitoring tomorrow. My so-called “Lupron Evaluation.” This time to ensure that, for once, my ovaries are NOT perky. This will be a switch. Fun!

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New Blogs

I figure it's been long enough that I can go ahead and post here and let any stragglers know – my new blog is http://chezperky.typepad.com/ , so if you're still looking for me, that's where I've been posting for the last six months or so. I do still occasionally get an email asking me where I've gone to, and my statcounter hits for this blog are still pretty high considering how long it's been since I've posted.

The triplets are now 16 months old (as of tomorrow). J-man is now 5 years old. Shocking as it may seem, I'm now trying for a singleton. Crazy, I know. Email me for that URL.

Hope to hear from you!

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Okay, Really? Is all this emotion really necessary? Like the estrogen in the BCPs wasn’t bad enough? I cried all day Monday, Tuesday, and most of Wednesday. My nurse pretty much said I could blame that on the estrogren in the pill. Whee! Hopefully, she said, things would be better on Lupron. I started Lupron Wednesday. Now, honestly? I don’t feel any different on the Lupron (not so much with the crying, though, which is good). I feel completely normal. But my husband sure can’t stop screwing up. And can it seriously ALL be him? (I mean, sure, it COULD be – but since he’s a damn near PERFECT husband most of the time, I am going to pretend for ONE second that maybe, JUST maybe this could be the Lupron talking here – okay, now I’m done giving him any slack, yeah, it’s all him and he’s just a big old poopy head).

Anyway, we’ve been fighting since Thursday. And I will say, he started it and it was all his fault that we started fighting. But honest to murgatroid, in the six+ years that we’ve been married we have never had a fight that’s lasted this long. Ever. I am quick to anger, but VERY quick to get over it (he’s the opposite of me – very, very slow to anger, but takes a while to cool down). Now, he did say something to me that crossed a line, but the fact that I’m still not over it is a little ridiculous. And I’m sitting here telling myself to get the eff over it and yet? Not over it.

And hey, remember how I said I don’t feel any different on the Lupron? I totally lied. I’ve got this ridiculous headache that won’t go away. It’s not a migraine. Migraines I can handle. It’s this dumb sharp pain that … I don’t even know how to describe it. It feels like it’s slicing diagonally through my head. I don’t like it. Probably that is not helping my mood either.

I do not like being cross.

I do not like being whiny.

I do not like being so damn irritable and irrational.

I do not like that I can’t just talk myself out of this one.

For the love of ALL that is holy, when is this going to stop?? Those of you who’ve been through an IVF cycle before… please clue me in. (Note that when I start stims, my Lupron dose will not be going down… it’s staying at 20 units, but I’m not sure for how long… and then, of course, night of egg retrieval, I start estrace, so MORE ESTROGEN YAY!, and oh boy won’t those PIO injections be fun??)

Hey, imagine if I’m still screaming at my husband when I have to start trusting him to be jabbing me with a 1 1/2 inch 22 guage needle in the ass? Oh yeah. I think I’d better go make nice with him. NOW.

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Bending, not Breaking

I feel like the last 6-8 weeks have been all about testing me to see how far I’ll bend without breaking. A number of you have commented, emailed, IM’d, facebooked, smoke-signaled, and sent carrier pigeons to make sure I’m doing okay. Clearly the tone of my blog posts has become increasingly desperate and is reflecting my recent state of mind.

The fact of the matter is that I’ve always wondered where my limit was, and I may just have found it. I had an unbelievably crappy December, and I mean that in every sense of the word. I mean, actually, many of my friends had unbelievably crappy Decembers, but it took a truly emotional toll on me. And it affected my schedule, my activities, my workload, my family, my coping ability, everything. And then everyone got sick. And the sickness hasn’t stopped, really. There was the norovirus starting December 21st that went on for 10 days that I already wrote about. Then I got a horrendous cold and gave it to the babies (sorry!). Then the babies had that forEVER, and Ellie got double ear infections subsequent to the cold. Now Abby has 4 molars coming in and Sam has a horrendous rash all over his entire back and his abdomen.

Work has been incredibly stressful, both for me and for my husband (more for him). I’ve got so much going on that I don’t know which way is up. Now I’m having daily back spasms, where I suddenly turn into a twisted pretzel and can’t get out of it.

And to make things more fun, the J-man is now on a medicine strike. And this is really where I am realizing that I’m reaching my limit. Can I bend any more? Will I break? I’m sure I won’t, but really, each day I feel like I get closer.

So about this medicine strike…

The J-man is currently taking two medicines: Focalin and Tenex. We’ve tweaked the dosages and frequency a number of times and we’ve gotten ourselves to a comfortable point where he takes the Tenex twice a day and the Focalin 2-3 times per day, depending on what he needs to do that day (e.g. on days when he has Speech Therapy after school, he gets the third dose of Focalin). We recently decided he could probably benefit from the 3rd dose of Focalin every day, but then he went on this medication strike, so it’s sort of a moot point.

Getting him to take his medication has always been a struggle, as you may remember. That’s why the Daytrana Patch was such a lifesaver. But it had too many downsides for his profile to be the optimal answer. It didn’t work as well for him as the Focalin does. But getting him to take a medicine orally is next to impossible. We have two good weeks, and then two weeks of hell, then two good weeks, then two weeks of pure hell, and so on. We are currently in hell, and I’m not sure it’s only going to last two weeks.

His latest trick is that he won’t open his mouth to take the medicine, but even once he does, he gets the medicine (which was mixed into mango sorbet – don’t ask… he has a discriminating palate) in his mouth and then won’t swallow it. He stands there and cries and refuses to swallow for what seems like forever, but is really somewhere between 5 and 15 minutes, and then either spits it out or forces himself to throw up (no, I’m not exaggerating). Occasionally he’ll swallow it under threat of not getting potato chips in his lunchbox, but that threat doesn’t hold a lot of weight anymore.

The last day or so he’s been willing to take the medicine in Banana Yo Baby Yogurt. But only Banana. And only the Yo Baby kind. Not just any Stony Field Farms Whole Fat Banana Flavoured Yogurt. And don’t go trying to trick him, mind you. He can tell the difference. Problem is, you can’t JUST buy Banana Yo Baby Yogurt – it comes in six packs where 3 are banana and 3 are vanilla… and if he’s taking medicine 3x per day… imagine how much yogurt we’d have to buy to give in to this kind of demand!! SIGH. There MUST be a better way.

It used to be that when he would go on his medicine-taking strikes at home, he would always still take the medicine for his teacher at school, so we always had that as a fallback (at least during the week). But this week, he stopped taking it for his teacher as well. Huge, huge problem!

So Thursday, I called Dr. S., Developmental Pediatrician Extraordinaire. I was desperate. We talked through a lot of possibilities – including changing medications, taking away toys and privileges, having Dr. S. have a heart-to-heart with him (sometimes having an outside authority figure lay down the law helps kids see the light, but I’m skeptical in this case about what kind of an impact this will have), changing the routine, buying more duct tape, switching the times for the Tenex (maybe adding a third dose and moving his last dose to bedtime), etc. We agreed that our previously scheduled parent meeting for Tuesday (Inauguration Day) would be changed to a meeting with him and Julian for starters, and we’d discuss options for going forward from there.

Finally I said that we simply have to come up with something, because I can’t go on like this. If things continue like this I might just have to check myself into the Funny Farm, I said. “Well, that’s another viable option,” he said. “We’ll add that to the list, but maybe we’ll just hold that in reserve for now.” Honestly, I’m thinking the duct tape option might actually have been the best option we came up with for the short term.

Dr. S. told me that J-man is a really tough case when it comes to the medicine compliance – one of the toughest, and that this ISN’T about me. We may have to take several steps back and start from square one to find the right solution. And, we may have to settle for a suboptimal medication for better compliance, if that’s what it takes to get him to take his medicine regularly without routine power struggles – because we simply cannot continue this way. I reminded the doctor that he promised me months ago that J would not break him when it came to medicine-taking. “Oh he isn’t going to break me. But he is BENDING me,” he replied.

You’re telling me, doc. You’re telling me.

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Lori asked, Why would you both need to take Doxycycline in the last year? That is just strange. No one ever cared if my husband took an antibiotic during our infertility journey.

Well, Lori, you got me. Now, I understand the reason to take Doxycycline during a cycle in general, but why on earth taking an antibiotic any old time at all in the last year matters is beyond me.

Per the Arizona Reproductive Medicine Specialists, Doxycycline, an antibiotic administered in pill form, is given to the male partner during the wife’s stimulation cycle to further reduce the low levels of bacteria that may be found in the semen and which may compromise the performance of the sperm during an IVF cycle.

Now, personally, I think it’s a bunch of crap. I think there’s a lot of voodoo in IVF cycles that’s done just for the sake of “Well it helps a teeney weeney tiny percentage of patients, and it doesn’t hurt any of the other patients, so we may as well make ALL of our patients do it.” Like Progesterone in Oil injections, for example. Crap, absolute, complete crap for most patients. My perinatologist told me the literature absolutely does not support the routine use of PIO injections for IVF patients – and yet, virtually all IVF patients in the US are routinely tortured with these thick, awful, painful injections for weeks at a time. For what? For a theory that it can’t hurt, and it might help.

Which brings me back to Doxycycline. Sure, there may be a VERY small percentage of patients whose male partners have low levels of bacteria in their semen which are causing issues with sperm performance or with implantation. And yes, it could be that taking Doxycycline during the stim cycle of a woman’s IVF cycle helps reduce those low levels of bacteria. However, for most patients, those low levels of bacteria are completely normal and are causing absolutely no issues whatsoever. In this case, of course, what’s the harm in taking five days of an antibiotic, just for kicks? Not much, unless you start getting into all the arguments of why one shouldn’t needlessly take antibiotics willy-nilly.

So no harm, no foul, but I’m not all broken up about the fact that my nurse isn’t making my husband take those darned pills.

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And So It Begins


So although I was supposed to start taking my Lupron on Monday (whoops), a couple days isn’t the end of the world (even though it DOES mean two more days of the evil BCPs!), so I was given marching orders to start taking it today. Of course, my protocol has me taking Lupron in the morning, and I didn’t find out about this until, oh, 2 o’clock-ish.

No problem, because as much as the clinics all like you to *think* that the timing on these meds is super-duper important, the fact of the matter is, there’s plenty of room to fudge it. So really, it’s all good. Just for good measure, I emailed my nurse to make sure and she said it was fine to take it when I got home today, then take tomorrow’s dose around noon, and then Friday’s dose on my morning schedule. Fine. No problemo.

Meanwhile, technically speaking, I shouldn’t have been allowed to have gotten any of this started, because technically speaking, they don’t have my current pap smear on file (I just had that done this week, results aren’t in yet), my ID bloodwork isn’t back yet (I just had that drawn yesterday, and the labwork from The Hatchery hasn’t been faxed over yet), etc. But they trust me. Heh. Oh, and then there’s the fact that both of us are supposed to have taken doxycycline within the past year. I took Doxycycline in November before my HSG, so I’m covered. But they’d asked me if my husband had taken any sort of antibiotic in the last year and I’d said, “sure, I think so.” He wasn’t so sure, so I told my nurse that today and she said, “Yeah, we need to get right on that.”

So anyway, I get home to take the Lupron. Bear in mind, I’ve never taken Lupron before. And we didn’t take an injection class, because, seriously? Why would we? So I’m looking over the stuff, and it’s a multi-dose vial, with insulin syringes, etc. Easy. Except then I start realizing I’m not sure I understand the unit of dosage. My instructions say 20 units. But what KIND of unit? I call my husband and ask if he’s close to home. Fortunately, he’s just pulled into the driveway. It is handy having a pharmacist for a husband. So he came down and explained to me like I’m a five year old that “unit” was exactly the word they’d intended to use because some medicines are measured in “units of activity” or some such thing. Whereas I’d thought they were using some nebulous, non-exact unit of measurement, it turned out, they were using the technical term, and if I’d looked at the syringe, I would have seen that the syringe also had things labeled as “units” so my minor panic attack was unwarranted.

He showed me how much to draw up and then stepped far away from the needle I was waving all around (sorry honey!) as I tried to remember how to do all this. Seriously, you’d think this was like riding a bike, right? I mean, one subcutaneous injection is just like any other, RIGHT? But it’s been like 2 YEARS, people! And man, the needles on insulin syringes? They’re way bigger than I remember. (I mean, they’re not big, but they’re way bigger than the follistim needles)

Anywhozit, aside from having to shoo my eldest away a few times, it went smoothly and in plenty of time to let my nanny go for the night. Tomorrow will be trickier because I’ll have to take it at work since I’m supposed to take it at noontime, which presents two separate problems: first, now that it’s been opened, the Lupron has to be refrigerated. We do have a refrigerator at work, but … sheesh. Secondly, doing this in a cramped bathroom stall? Not my idea of fun. Nevertheless, it’s not like I haven’t done it before!

And now, the requisite IVF Med shot:


Not pictured is my Follistim Pen, which I forgot to include.

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