July 28, 2010
Holy meltdown, Batman.
Before I get into the details of what was an epic meltdown yesterday (and apologies in advance, this is a doozy of a post), I should say that I have been feeling extra raw lately…like at any moment I might break into hysterical laughter, or hysterical tears. Last Friday was a very down day that culminated in a mini-meltdown Friday night. The weekend was saved by lots of busyness and some time with friends, and I really did feel better by Monday.
Then yesterday arrived – along with a scheduled appointment at the RE’s – and everything went downhill in a handbasket.
Yesterday’s appointment was for a Pap smear and other regular cultures, along with a hysteroscopy (camera in the ‘ole uterus). I had done all of these tests last September, but since our next IVF won’t be complete by the time we reach the year anniversary, I had to get everything re-done (required by insurance). The hysteroscopy is one of the few tests that really are not pleasant and I just was NOT looking forward to it.
Fast forward to my arrival at the office where the nurse tells me, “hold on and let me give you a cup to take to the bathroom with you. we need to do a pregnancy test before the procedure.” I almost lost it right there in the hallway. I mean, I’ve had to do this before, but for some reason, it really bothered me this time. I guess the thoughts that I’ve been increasingly having that I might NEVER be pregnant, and the futility of it all just smacked me upside the face. So I did my business and after waiting another 15 minutes for them to reset the room they wanted me in, I was suited up and ready to face the music.
A new (to me) doctor walked in, introduced himself and asked how I was doing. I said “I’ve been better, but thank you for asking.” He asked what was wrong and I said “I just feel like this is a farce.” He misunderstood me, thinking that I just didn’t like the amount of tests they had to do and all of the setup required (when really I was talking about IF treatments in general), and started talking through the process.
After going over the plans and reading through the potential consequences of the procedure (which I had to sign off on), he looked up at me and said “you really don’t want to be here, do you?” I said to him “this is my fourth (really fifth) IVF and I’m just DONE” and promptly teared up. This to a nice young doctor who I had never even met before! I have to give him credit, he was actually super nice…gave me a really sympathetic look and rubbed my knee.
So we moved on from there, he distracted me with a very nice conversation and things seemed to be going fine…until he literally could NOT get past my cervix into my uterus. I mean, I have been through a lot of pain over the past several years, but this was probably the most painful thing I’ve ever experienced without pain medication at the ready. Then, right in the middle of him fighting with my cervix, another doctor walks in (I seriously hate their team approach!) and tells him he’s just going to have to push through and tells me “this might be a little crampy.” Are you F-ING kidding me?!?!? I guess they don’t know me from a hole in the wall, but I have a pretty high pain tolerance, so for me to be closing my eyes, biting my lip, and holding my forehead means that WE’RE ALREADY PAST CRAMPY BITCH!
They finally got in and told me that my uterus looked “great,” which I could have told them (fat lot of good that has ever done me), and ended the torture. I managed to get dressed, paid for parking and got into my car before I literally LOST IT. Called S but was crying so hard that I was afraid to be driving, so I hung up with him. Then I decided that I really did want to talk to somebody, so I called one of my good friends and choked out the whole story to her. I know that it probably doesn’t seem like this should have set off such a nuclear reaction, but I guess it was something about the first procedure post realization that this might really not work.
I just feel like I have been through so much – so much pain, so much discomfort, so much just not feeling like myself – and the thought of doing it all again and having it not work, knowing that it probably won’t work, just feels like torture. After IVF #2, when I ended up in the hospital with internal bleeding, I told S that I would do anything to get pregnant. And I still would. If someone told me that I had to do this ten more times, but that at the end of it I would be pregnant, I’d do it. But the thought that this is all in vain is almost more than I can take.
I never thought that I would be this person – this depressed, this hopeless, this stuck between a rock and a hard place – and I just don’t know how to get past it. I’m sorry if that sounds melodramatic…I know that my experiences don’t come close to those that others have faced (we have a dear friend facing cancer at 30 and I just can’t even fathom), but I’m really starting to feel like I’ve reached the end of my rope.
I don’t want to do another cycle, but I equally don’t want to NOT. I don’t even want to take a break! And I know that makes no sense…
I’m sick of feeling fat (okay, I know I’m not fat, but just think how you would feel if you had been permanently bloated for four years) and having no $ex drive, and I’m sick of being sad. I’m sick and tired of being sick and tired.
But more than anything, I’m sick of wanting something that I can’t have.