Nothing’s going to hurt me with my eyes shut….
It is now week four since I began treatment. For a second, it felt like a normal Monday morning when you dread the alarm going off and you just want that extra five minutes in bed. My stomach flipped, I was scared to open my eyes today. I couldn’t escape the reality of facing what was coming this week. I wanted to follow my usual routine, get up, eat my cereal, go to work and forget this ever happened. At the same time, I didn’t want it to end. It was too overwhelming to contemplate what happens when it’s all over?
I’m supposed to be relaxed throughout this process. I must relax. Sit down, think of nothing, relax. Like hell I can!! I have been pumped full of hormones, my body has gone into shock and is so confused. It’s not a natural feeling. I felt like I had a task to complete and I couldn’t fail. The pressure was on, how could I relax?
I had been working full time over the last few weeks with a few scheduled afternoons off to attend my scans and appointments. I had been busy in work but it did take my mind off things. One of the questions I asked myself, well blamed myself for was not taking enough time off work for the whole process. Did I put myself under too much pressure and was I relaxed enough? Did I give myself a chance? I asked myself the same questions many times during the weeks that followed.
I was called in for the last scan and this would be the indication of what day the egg collection would be, if my body had responded accordingly! I kept thinking of a chicken everytime the phrase ‘egg collection’ was used! Once again I was sitting in the waiting room (felt like I had moved in). It was all too much today, I sat there with tears streaming down my face. I couldn’t make eye contact with my husband, it was another one of those moments when there are no words. We held hands, that was enough. I hadn’t had the scan yet but I knew that towards the end my body hadn’t responded as expected to the treatment.
We sat together in the side room with Sue, as always she was cheery, smiling and positive! I had lots of follicles at the beginning of treatment but not many of them had come to fruition, they have to reach to a certain size to be viable for egg collection. One of those little buggers had grown and one was lagging behind. The others were lazy and stayed dormant. There were still no guarantees that there would be viable eggs in either of them. It was all too confusing, what was she trying to tell us? Usually they would not proceed with this amount, you would need to have definitely more than two, or three in some clinics.
Even though I knew and half expected this news, I felt such a failure. I could feel my body physically withering inside me, I instantly felt old and different, that was the worst feeling. I felt like I was on my own and wasn’t part of the gang. Such a sad feeling. I held back my tears and Sue put her hand on mine and said, it only takes one. We had to go home and wait for a call, the consultant had to look at the results and confirm if he was happy to proceed.
We drove home in silence, my husband was trying to stay positive as always but I could feel the anger welling up inside me. I started to make lunch when we got home, almost trying to get some normality back into the situation. My husband, although still trying to stay positive was confusing me by merely talking. I just wanted silence, I didn’t want to listen to anyone else, I just wanted quiet, peace and quiet. In that moment I lost it, I threw the plate across the room and screamed. It wasn’t an angry scream, it was a painful one. I collapsed in a hysterical heap, this continued for at least an hour until I felt physically sick. It stopped abruptly. It was a relief to let out in that hour what I had been bottling up for a long time.
I composed myself, hugged my husband and said if we can, I am going through with it. I don’t care about the money, we have to give it a chance. Like Sue said, it only takes one egg. I was exhausted when my phone rang but I was ready for the call, I took a deep breath and listened to Sue. The consultant was happy to go ahead but it was our choice. She pointed out, amongst other things that we could have a 75% refund if we decided to stop the treatment. I didn’t hesitate, I told Sue to expect us on the ward tomorrow at 8 o clock. I wiped my tears away, put the kettle on, cried some more and went to bed early.
It’s funny as Sue and another nurse, said how amazingly well we had both approached this and coped with the whole process. How calm I was, probably one of the calmest patients she had come across. We had the right attitude and had dealt with it so positively. I didn’t disagree with her, at times I did feel almost serene. I have always had a knack of literally switching off my feelings. I wasn’t calm, I wasn’t anything? Nice of her to say it though.
Egg collection day from the chicken had arrived. Finally some good news?
AJ X
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