Everything That Can Go Wrong...

I remember my last cycle as smooth.

I've been re-reading my old blog, and it seems it was smooth. My meds showed up, I went to my (then) new clinic, I kept freaking out and telling everyone that I was "different" and "difficult" and "special." And they nodded and said "uh huh" and told me I was just like everybody else.

Last cycle, H and I went to the I.V.F. class where he showed his A-type personality. Last cycle, he had every dose perfectly prepared on a freshly scrubbed kitchen counter that he injected at exactly 24-hour intervals.

And while I had complications, I now have a baby. SO for the most part... Smooth.

Then... there's this cycle.

Not smooth.

On CD2, I went to the wrong floor of my clinic. (Yes, my clinic is SO HUGE they separate out the IUIs from the IVFs). So I had to wait twice as long for my blood and wand combo.

Nice.

At the end, I was late for work, so when they said "go talk to a nurse about your meds," I said, "H will have to do it. I'm late, and he's giving the shot anyway." And ran out the door.

Now, H was home that day sick. But I'd asked him to (a) call the clinic and get the info and (b) get the whole enchilada -- what drugs am I taking when, etc. There was a not in my last shipment about a problem with something, and I wasn't sure if it was resolved and I was worried.

H called and got the information for that night. If I make it sound easy, it wasn't. The nurses are only available for six hours a day, and they only have one or two who handle the shots and drugs questions, and they kept calling me back (not him, as they've been instructed millions of times). And when they did call H back, they got his voicemail because H was asleep.

So, 6 phone calls and 5 hours later, H got the information for that night.

The first night, H pulls out the needle before it's done releasing medicine. There's not enough left in it (and I am not brave enough) to warrant injecting me again. But DAMN. It's not off to an auspicious start.

The second day, I realize I don't know when I am to go back. No one told me. Quite by accident, I read an old post of mine that states my clinic does day 2, then day 7. Except that last cycle, I went on day 4 (or was it 5?). Because I'm "special." So what am I going to do?

Again with the Nurse phone tag. One message, two message, three message, four. Finally, I get a chirpy gal who pulls my chart and says that I'm not supposed to come in tomorrow. She doesn't know when I'm supposed to come in, but it is definitely NOT tomorrow.

So Day 3 dawn with more message Olympics. This time I hang tough, spend 20 minutes (no exaggeration) on hold and speak to a human. I spend another 15 minutes on hold while she consults with whomever and whatever and tells me that I'm to come in Saturday.

Okay. Great.

That night, H and I are tired. Ridiculously tired. We fall asleep in each others arms (awwwwwwww) without my being shot (WHOOPS!).

We're awakened my Spunketta at 3:00AM, and after lulling my lil miracle back to sleep, I sit up and scream in terror (or as close as you can while whispering) WE FORGOT MY DRUGS!

H decides that the thing to do is to do the shot ASAP. We run to the kitchen and H prepares them. He drops a vial (or two) but finally, all is prepped and the belly is shot. I'm freaking out and panicking (my specialty) and H is calming. It'll be fine, he says. Just you watch.

So the next day, I'm back to calling the clinic. It is fine, the nurse assures me. You shouldn't really take so long, but I'm sure it will be okay.

Okay, fine. Breathe, I tell myself. Maybe they'll just up the dosage later on, or such. Maybe.

Okay, so where are we now? Day 6?

This cycle, H has not nearly been as smooth as with the first. He's scrambling, disorganized. It makes me nervous, honestly. He was exactingly precise the last time; I always secretly credit that precision with the cycle working.

Day 6, H prepares the drugs and shoots me. (We now say to each other throughout the day REMEMBER THE DRUGS the way other couples may say "I love you.") As he's tidying up the area, he starts swearing mightily.

"What's wrong?"

"I forgot to mix in one of the g0nal F vials!"

This is big doings; even I know it. He digs around and puts together another syringe and I get shot again.

The next day is Day 7. I get up at Dark-thirty and head to the clinic. On the right floor. I wait 45 minutes (as you do) and I get blooded. And I see my doctor.

The second shot was completely correct, the doctor assures me. And the late shot was fine, she continues me. It's not like it's it was the Ganire1ix, she chuckles. Don't forget that.

My drugs changed on CD7, and this time stuck around with the nurse to have it explained. "Now you take Ganire1ix," she explained. The nurse was very solemn. "You CANNOT be late. You HAVE to take the Ganire1ix at the same time EVERY DAY. If you do not, you will ruin this cycle."

No pressure.

From the clinic, I head to work.

I call H to let him know about the changes in drugs. (He's sleeping). I call and and I call and I call and finally rouse him.

"Just check that we have everything we need," I beg. And he does.

He calls me back. "I can't find the Ganire1ix," he states. "Do you have the name right? Are you pronouncing it correctly?" I spell it out to him but don't even try to pronounce it.

"Call the clinic, and have them phone it in to the specialty pharmacy," I command. (I know the names of both fertility pharmacies in NYC). He does and they do.

Then, all he has to do is trek over there with Spunx. And, oh yeah, PAY for it. Except it's a weekend, and we can't get ahold of anyone from the insurance company, and the pharmacy doesn't take the our new health insurance. So H had to pay full price for infertility meds. That took some doing.

So last night, I got my meds (all of them) right on time.

And the television broke.

And a co-worker died.

And I miss Mama.

And I cried so hard I gave myself hiccups.

This is not a smooth cycle.