Calm.

I had the balloon removed...heaven on earth I tell you. The crap with the clinic is over (that's another story but I don't have the energy to "go there" again), so things are finally calming down and looking up. I remember thinking "god, not ANOTHER procedure", but here we are on the other side of it, with a better looking uterus. The procedure worked and my uterus has opened up and has grown in thickness...this is very good news.

I have to have a period (or two) under my belt before we consider a transfer, so we're looking at probably an early summer cycle.

Until then, we give ourselves a chance to heal from all the drama of the past 2 weeks...

I'll tell you, this is the HARDEST thing I have ever had to fight for...I hope its not all in vain.

Thanks to everyone for all of your emails and comments! I couldn't do this without your constant encouragement and support. Love to all.

I Suck at Confrontation

I hate that I just had to do that. I am a nice person who likes things harmonious and I hate having conflict. First of all I totally suck at it - it always comes out the wrong way, and secondly, someone will get in shit, and I hate being a narc.

Or will they? Will they just scoff and say "that girl is so high maintenance - she just expects us to run circles around her - who does she think she is?" Are they all having a good laugh? Or do they hate me even more now that I've had to rat them out? Does the doctor even know? I doubt A would voluntarily tell him that they dropped the ball. My impression is he's a bit of dick for a boss...I have seen him get short with his staff - he's rolled his eyes in anger in my direction...those times you can cut the tension with a knife, and I've often thought to myself "I'd hate to work here."

I called and knew A would answer the phone. She's not a nurse - she's the office co-ordinator. It went like this...

A: Dr. A's office?

L: Hi A, it's LM.

A: Oh hi dear, how are you?

(this is where it all goes down hill)

L: Fine. A, don't you normally follow up after a surgery? I was told I would get a phone call the night of, and I was told I would DEFINITELY get a call the next day...and nothing. No one has contacted me from your office.

(silence)

A: Oh... I'm... so sorry sweetie... how are you feeing now?

L: Actually I don't feel very good at all. I've been nauseated and exhausted. I have a foreign object in my body and I am calling to find out when I can get it out.

A: Let me call you back sweetie.

L: (grrrr stop calling me sweetie) Ok.

She called back to say that the longer the balloon is in the better...BECAUSE "it was a very difficult procedure". REALLY? I hadn't realized. I said "speaking of, I really don't know what happened during the procedure -why did it take 3 hours? Was it not supposed to be 40 minutes?" She said yes, but that it was "a very difficult procedure." She said that the doctor explained everything to Chris. Uh, Chris isn't a doctor - he's the spouse of a patient. I would rather hear it from the horse's mouth.

So nothing resolved really/no reprocussions for them...she'll probably whisper it to G (Bloodwench) that she forgot to follow up and G will get her nose out of joint again and act like she did nothing wrong, and ONCE AGAIN I'll be made to feel the asshole, the trouble maker, the high maintenance one.

Lose/lose.

This all needs to stop♦

Its been two days since my "D&C". I believe everything went well although how would I know? I have had to ask C a million questions - he was in the room with me and watched for 3 hours while I squirmed around semi-conscious begging them to stop. But C isn't a surgeon, or a doctor, or even a nurse, just my husband, who held my hand for 3 hours and talked me through something awful and painful. Thankfully it only felt like 20 minutes, but those 20 minutes, I'm finding, were traumatic. And I thought my first egg retrieval was bad.

I made amends with the nurse. She was good to me before and after the surgery...we had spoken the day before and laughed about something...it broke the ice. After the surgery she held me tight when my legs were about to buckle...she had my back. In an effort to bury the hatchet, a very drug-induce me hugged her tight and said "I'm sorry about everything." She hugged me back and said "that's ok". As she walked me to the car where Chris was waiting with the door open, she said to both of us, "I will call you tonight, but I don't want anyone getting out of bed or rushing for the phone, if we don't make contact tonight, that's ok...but I WILL be calling you tomorrow and I WILL need to speak with you or C...we need to make sure everything's ok."

For once I felt she cared, that the whole office cared...she was sincere and she had also burried the hatchet. I felt like I was back on track with the clinic. That was Thursday, it's now Saturday night and I have not heard from anyone at that office, not even the doctor. Yesterday I cried my eyes out about this - how could they just leave us hanging like this? How could they forget my crying out and begging for them to stop? Surely someone would have thought to follow up... but I guess not even the doctor did, because this would have prompted a call.

I feel so totally let down. Maybe the drugs and the recovery are making me more sad and dramatic than usual... but I'm tired of being "fine" - putting on a brave face. I need to be upset.

Who knows if I'm healing properly? We don't. We don't know anything. Yesterday I threw up twice, and today thankfully, only once. I know this might sound silly, but over my dead body was I calling that clinic. They've wormed their way out of other screw ups a bunch of times before, and I wasn't about to risk looking the idiot, again, and having them say"we were just ABOUT to call you "sweetie"...you beat us to the punch." No way...because it would have been a lie.

And other than Chris's account, which is reassuring, yet understandably incomplete, I know very little about what was done to my body.

"Oh God, you're a "Returner" aren't you?!"

What's that? Come again? I didn't realize that there was a name for people like me...people who buy things, and often have an error in judgment. People who realize that the item du jour doesn't really work with the season or the wardrobe, and end up RETURNING the item. I didn't realize it was a bad thing...maybe a little annoying for the merchant, but not, like, illegal or anything.

I took back the shoes. HEAR ME OUT! Throughout the past week and a bit, when I have been getting dressed, I have sometimes slipped on the shoes to see if THAT outfit worked with the shoes...its not like my style is incredibly diverse - rather quite simple, so if the shoes don't work with simple jeans and a tank, then I probably won't wear them at all. I have no weddings or showers to attend this summer, and let's face it, they are more weddingy than funky.

I had another look on the site, because exchange or credit note were my options (I guess I could also be labelled an "Exchanger") and found a much more suitable "fun" shoe that will be a lot more versatile. A chunkier heel, a bit more laid back as opposed to all grown up and lady like.

Do you think I should own my own shoe store? I do...I very much do.

D&C Me!

Don't be fooled by my title, I'm not really that excited to have my uterus gutted and scraped like a pumpkin at Halloween, but it's a necessary procedure.

The doctor is still very hopeful. Maybe he's a bit "challenged". I wish I could feel the same way. I apologized (in jest) for ruining his stats. He smirked and said not to worry about his stats.

The sooner the better really..I'm tired of living in this Limboland..it sucks and C & I both need a new direction if this isn't going to work.

I figure we'll get this scrapey business dealt with and then we can transfer to our heart's content... but we WILL be saving some embies for a surrogate.

Any takers?

Be Still, My Heart

Oh how I love them so. It was love at first sight. At the first moment our eyes met, I knew it was meant to be...but it was scandalous, and I wondered if I could justify such an extravagant purchase.

See, N went into the store to buy a messenger bag for her husband, and I was not to buy anything at all, but this is what happens, see...with both of us...and then N was all "I LOVE them. NO...I freakin' LOOOOVE them. You HAVE to buy those Lis, you HAVE to...they are SO GORGEOUS." I have to admit they do look fantastic on my feet and WOW talk about comfortable...they are really easy to wear/walk in. Worth it? I'd say!

Sold.

(Let me just say, however, that they are not white. I really hate white shoes...and I did have a bit of an issue buying the bone color. They came in black and red, BUT the bone ones looked so cool and edgy with my black jeans and my almost black toes... I tried on the black ones, but they just weren't really doing it for me...and red is out because I'm just not a fan. They are not as white as they appear in the picture - the flash did that. Think a little paler than beige, but not quite a true bone either.)

Remember the Shoes?

I was so happy when our tiny mail delivery person came around the corner with my bright yellow happy smiley-faced Zappo’s box, singing "Oooooweee Leeeeesaaaaa, how aaaaaaaare yooooooooooou?? I have a package forrrrryoooooou!!” I’ve never known anyone to like me more than she does, which kindof makes me feel good, even though she’s a bit of an odd duck which is probably why she likes me so much…because she’s weird and I attract weirdos… ‘cause I’m nice…even though that certainly wasn’t a very nice thing to say but it's just a fact. Anyway, I signed for the package and off she scurried. I decided to take the shoes home (but not the box) so I could try them on without having to lug the box back and forth if they needed to be returned… The entire way home I was dreaming up outfits that would complement my fabulous new shoes. The sun was shining, the birds were chirping...the smell of spring and BBQ's in the air. I came up with 2 possible scenarios…very pleased with myself.

1. Skinny jeans, longish tank, chunky necklace
2. Pencil or tulip skirt, flirty blouse

Well…I’m sad to announce, that they are currently on a ship back to Zappoland.

Who the hell can wear these things? During my search did I unknowingly click on “Hooker Heels”? Was there a subsection called “Achy Breaky Neck”? Unwilling to admit I had once again failed to purchased a SINGLE wearable on-line item, I stubbornly proceeded to my makeshift runway (the hallway). I wasn’t going to give up, dammit, I had spent my 20’s & 30’s in high heels. I am WOMAN.

I balanced myself, took a deep breath and proceeded to take my first step…hoookaaay…by step #2 I knew this wasn’t going to work. I threw myself down on the floor in a strop and unlatched the ankle straps, one by one. I stuffed them back into the bag and mumbled to myself, “not a chance in HELL.”

I was so depressed that my first attempt at buying shoes on line had gone so sour, that I treated myself to a delivery from Victoria Secret…a bathing suit, which I have not a shred of doubt will fit me like a glove.