Saturday, March 10, 2007

the more things change, the more they stay the same

six months. It's ben six months since I got muddy with the Western fertility witch docs. For six months, I've monitored my doctor, spritzed myself with good smells, tried to fit in yoga and the occasional breathing class, taken herbs, regulated my sugar intake, gone "au natural." In six months, I've managed to reset my clock, to actually have cycles without the use of modern medicine. Sure, they take twice as long as those thirty day perfect people, but they take place, leave me with a whopping headache and indicate some hint of fertility possibilities. Enough to make me contemplate the possible.

But in that six months, I've turned 35 and no matter how diligent I am with the temperature taking at 6 a.m. daily, the "do it for your country" fornication according to the calendar...despite all of our best efforts, I remain childless.

So, as per the agreed upon time frame, I called the doctor in late February to start the paperwork rolling to try to pump myself full of crap by April.

Except of course that it never works out that way. The best laid plans of mice and men often go awry.

I called the clinic in February to get the insurance papers rolling. But they said that my blood work had expired and that there was nothing that I could do until I got my next period.

My period came on Tuesday. On Wednesday morning I went to the local clinic to have all the blood work that the clinic needed. It was snowing. The previous evening, I'd been out until midnight taking a group of my students to see "Hamlet" performed by the Wooster group. We'd had a lovely time, but my six a.m. alarm was hard to obey. I left the house by 6:30 and walked as quickly as I could in the snow to get to the clinic so that when it opened at 7, I would be the first patient and still have a fighting chance to get to work by 8. Except of course that the clinic didn't open on time because snow = excuses.

When the woman finally did arrive to open the clinic and let me in, she proceeded to moan about my paper work and how it wasn't filled out correctly by the doctor. She made a few phone calls muttering that it was much too early for this sort of thing and that she wasn't supposed to be working that day any way, she was doing the clinic a favor because another worker had called in sick. She said the codes on the forms were not done properly and that she was not doing them a favor and this work would be processed manually. Whatever that meant.

Her oversized co-worker arrived moments later complaining that she could not find an overcoat that fit. This did not surprise me in the least. They chatted at length about how awful the company was not to provide overcoats that fit. Too much material I thought.

She went on for awhile about how it was just a j-o-b and told me to wait in the second waiting room on the right. She came in and took 12 viles off the shelf which was when I started to breathe rather quickly. She said, "great and to top it off, your a nervous one. Look, your hands are cold and if you are going to be nervous I'm going to have to stick you three times. Don't you know if you want to have a baby you have to relax?" I tried to visualize the yellow traingle. The peaceful scent of jasmine and lavendar. But she wouldn't go away. I took deep breaths and she was still there telling me that the only way I would ever have a baby was if I relaxed. Finally, it was over. I ran out of the clinic and got to work, late.

My blood work didn't arrive to the clinic on time and when it finally did come, it turned out that the doctor was on vacation. Now, I have to decide if I go for another round of IVF around my spring break and miss some days at the end of the vacation to finish out the cycle, or if I hold off again until summer.

I'm visiting with another doctor to see what he says. But as the nurse warned me, they are two very different people, and likely to say two very different things.

Labels: , ,