Monday, March 28, 2005
Peace and Love
Well, that headache scare didn't last for very long. I had a couple more headaches after I last posted but when I finished the Climaston, they also stopped. Shouldn't have been a surprise, really, since the package insert that said that headaches were a common side effect of the medicine.
So last week, I had my first IVF-related shot. I can't remember of the name of the medication (something starting with a "d"- dycepeptol? decpyetecol?) but it is functional equivalent of Lupron. Well, whatever it's called, it supresses normal ovarian/hormone activity and allows the ovaries to produce multiple eggs when properly stimulated. I take one shot then 12 days later, I go for a blood draw, get checked out by Dr. Twinkle, and then, presumably, start the Gonal-F stims. Day 12 is this Friday. We're going to the doctor and then we're rushing off to Cologne for Dawg's dad's birthday.
I am feeling very calm about this cycle -- neither particularly postive or negative -- and I am extremely grateful to feel this way. Almost every day I spend about 10 minutes or so in prayer asking for a deep and lasting calm. Of course, I also sometimes ask God to hear the plea in my heart, but these days I rarely feel the need to voice that. That's already out there; the universe is filled with that prayer. Now I need to be filled with Peace. And so far, I am.
I have pretty much stopped reading websites, forums and blogs on infertility. I allow myself to peruse some of my old favorites on weekends, but usually I just skim them, more out of habit than anything else. These sites do nothing for me anymore. At least, nothing positive. I already know that life can be cruelly unfair and that God's works are unfathomable and sometimes heartbreaking. I don't need to be reminded on a daily basis of this. I need to think about the good things in life, of which I am fortunate to have many. I am always aware of the bad things, but I can't let it be my center. I have lived that way long enough.
We have put in an offer for the house. As expected, it's way, way below the asking price of the crazy owner, so we have no idea how he'll respond. Our sources say that initially he'll say no but eventually will come crawling around. We'll see. If not this house, we'll find another -- but I must admit: I love this house.
Weekend before last, we spent the entire day in the village while our wonderful, loyal, lovely architect friends from Berlin measured and made sketches of the the place. It was a beautiful day, even more beautiful than the first time we saw the house, and we feel in love with it all over again. We sat in the garden under the walnut tree looking up at the house and, almost like in a dream, the house morphed into a future version of itself. Gone were the dirty grey-blue crepi, the unshuttered windows, the brown peeling paint on the front door, the charred remains of a bonfire in the yard. As we watched, the house began to glow with beauty and warmth. The crepi became a light, welcoming color. The windows reflected a cozy, comfortable interior. Pink roses flourished in the garden and sweet-smelling jasmin twined around the handrail of the double staircase that leads to the front door. Fruit trees -- apple, pear, lemon -- sprouted along the long stone wall surrounding the garden. And we found ourselves sitting before a long wooden picnic table covered by a snowy cloth that flapped slightly in the breeze. All of this happened.
Yes, yes, yes...I love this house.
So last week, I had my first IVF-related shot. I can't remember of the name of the medication (something starting with a "d"- dycepeptol? decpyetecol?) but it is functional equivalent of Lupron. Well, whatever it's called, it supresses normal ovarian/hormone activity and allows the ovaries to produce multiple eggs when properly stimulated. I take one shot then 12 days later, I go for a blood draw, get checked out by Dr. Twinkle, and then, presumably, start the Gonal-F stims. Day 12 is this Friday. We're going to the doctor and then we're rushing off to Cologne for Dawg's dad's birthday.
I am feeling very calm about this cycle -- neither particularly postive or negative -- and I am extremely grateful to feel this way. Almost every day I spend about 10 minutes or so in prayer asking for a deep and lasting calm. Of course, I also sometimes ask God to hear the plea in my heart, but these days I rarely feel the need to voice that. That's already out there; the universe is filled with that prayer. Now I need to be filled with Peace. And so far, I am.
I have pretty much stopped reading websites, forums and blogs on infertility. I allow myself to peruse some of my old favorites on weekends, but usually I just skim them, more out of habit than anything else. These sites do nothing for me anymore. At least, nothing positive. I already know that life can be cruelly unfair and that God's works are unfathomable and sometimes heartbreaking. I don't need to be reminded on a daily basis of this. I need to think about the good things in life, of which I am fortunate to have many. I am always aware of the bad things, but I can't let it be my center. I have lived that way long enough.
We have put in an offer for the house. As expected, it's way, way below the asking price of the crazy owner, so we have no idea how he'll respond. Our sources say that initially he'll say no but eventually will come crawling around. We'll see. If not this house, we'll find another -- but I must admit: I love this house.
Weekend before last, we spent the entire day in the village while our wonderful, loyal, lovely architect friends from Berlin measured and made sketches of the the place. It was a beautiful day, even more beautiful than the first time we saw the house, and we feel in love with it all over again. We sat in the garden under the walnut tree looking up at the house and, almost like in a dream, the house morphed into a future version of itself. Gone were the dirty grey-blue crepi, the unshuttered windows, the brown peeling paint on the front door, the charred remains of a bonfire in the yard. As we watched, the house began to glow with beauty and warmth. The crepi became a light, welcoming color. The windows reflected a cozy, comfortable interior. Pink roses flourished in the garden and sweet-smelling jasmin twined around the handrail of the double staircase that leads to the front door. Fruit trees -- apple, pear, lemon -- sprouted along the long stone wall surrounding the garden. And we found ourselves sitting before a long wooden picnic table covered by a snowy cloth that flapped slightly in the breeze. All of this happened.
Yes, yes, yes...I love this house.
Tuesday, March 15, 2005
Granny's complaints
This morning, I woke up peacefully after a blissful 9 hours of sleep. I lay in Dawg's arms drowsing a bit. Then - WHAM! Someone smacked me in the back of my head with a thick wooden plank with a nail in it. OW. The Headache was back. But it only hung around for about 10 minutes then took off for parts unknown. So far, no further sign of it.
Seeing as this is now a journal of my various ailments, I might as well note that for the past few weeks I have also heard a high-pitched ringing in my ears. Not all the time, only in the mornings when all is quiet. I haven't seemed to notice it at night when all is quiet.
Maybe all this is due to the Climaston. Geez, if I react like this to a couple of estrogen/progesterone pills, I can't imagine what mega doses of the hormone shots will do to me. Guess I'll find out in a few weeks.
Seeing as this is now a journal of my various ailments, I might as well note that for the past few weeks I have also heard a high-pitched ringing in my ears. Not all the time, only in the mornings when all is quiet. I haven't seemed to notice it at night when all is quiet.
Maybe all this is due to the Climaston. Geez, if I react like this to a couple of estrogen/progesterone pills, I can't imagine what mega doses of the hormone shots will do to me. Guess I'll find out in a few weeks.
Monday, March 14, 2005
Normal or Not?
I've noticed I've been having a lot of headaches lately. Or at least I think it is a lot. I've always been a headachy sort of person, so it's hard to tell what's normal and what's a life-threatening disease. Anyway, I'll keep track of it here.
Today, I had a headache. Not too bad. Kinda vague, but with sharp, splintery pains, mostly around the high, right side of the occipital lobe. Took two tylenol but they didn't take effect until just now (literally), a couple of hours later. I also felt vaguely as if the glands just under my jaw were swollen. I didn't need to lie down or anything, though I was tempted to. But that's because I'm lazy.
In other news, we're going to make an offer on the house on Saturday. It's going to be much, much, much lower than the owner thinks. In fact, it'll be half his asking price. That first visit, we saw the house as it could be. The second visit, we saw it for real. It is practically a ruin. We've had two architects take a look at it and both of them winced when they saw it. The last one, who took measurements of the rooms and listed all that needed to be done, shook our hands at the end of the day, glanced up at the house and said, "Bon courage," then he looked at the house again, tried to find something more encouraging to say, but in the end, he could only shrug and say again, "Eh oui. Bon courage." It's hard not to be terrified.
The good news is, we met an English family that lives in the village and they told us that the house was on the market last summer for 50% of the current price! The owner (apparently a strange gypsy-ish character with sharp mood swings) decided to jack up the price when another old house in a neighboring village was sold for approximately the price of "our" house. Thank God we met these people. Not that we'd have bought it for this guy's asking price -- but our starting price might have been as much twenty thousand higher than it is now...or we might have abandoned the project. Of course, the owner could very well tell us to kiss his gypsy ass when he hears of our low bid. Well, if so, so be it. Il n'y a pas des go-gos ici!
Today, I had a headache. Not too bad. Kinda vague, but with sharp, splintery pains, mostly around the high, right side of the occipital lobe. Took two tylenol but they didn't take effect until just now (literally), a couple of hours later. I also felt vaguely as if the glands just under my jaw were swollen. I didn't need to lie down or anything, though I was tempted to. But that's because I'm lazy.
In other news, we're going to make an offer on the house on Saturday. It's going to be much, much, much lower than the owner thinks. In fact, it'll be half his asking price. That first visit, we saw the house as it could be. The second visit, we saw it for real. It is practically a ruin. We've had two architects take a look at it and both of them winced when they saw it. The last one, who took measurements of the rooms and listed all that needed to be done, shook our hands at the end of the day, glanced up at the house and said, "Bon courage," then he looked at the house again, tried to find something more encouraging to say, but in the end, he could only shrug and say again, "Eh oui. Bon courage." It's hard not to be terrified.
The good news is, we met an English family that lives in the village and they told us that the house was on the market last summer for 50% of the current price! The owner (apparently a strange gypsy-ish character with sharp mood swings) decided to jack up the price when another old house in a neighboring village was sold for approximately the price of "our" house. Thank God we met these people. Not that we'd have bought it for this guy's asking price -- but our starting price might have been as much twenty thousand higher than it is now...or we might have abandoned the project. Of course, the owner could very well tell us to kiss his gypsy ass when he hears of our low bid. Well, if so, so be it. Il n'y a pas des go-gos ici!
Friday, March 04, 2005
Running faster
I am still here. Still buoyed by Hope. Snapping and snarling like a wild beast everytime a dark thought comes near me. It is not necessarily that I think this next treatment will work -- it is only that I know that all will be well, somehow. I have no idea how, but it will. Lately, I have had the feeling that the murky things toward which I have been running are becoming more and more defined.
Tomorrow we get a second look at a gorgeous 18th century house that we fell in love with last week. If nothing is seriously wrong with it (that is, beside having no heating, electricity, kitchen, bathroom, etc.) we will buy it. I don't know how I will feel tomorrow, but last week it was, as it is said in France, a coup de coeur -- a blow to the heart. So much so that I often found myself, staring around the property with my hand pressed to my heart, as if I were swearing an oath of fealty. I couldn't help it. Every time I saw something new I liked (like the master bedroom with the white light spilling across the dusty hardwood floor in a cold, clear flood), my hand would fly to my heart. I saw family Christmases there. I saw picnics under the big tree in the garden. I saw long, gauzy white curtains fluttering from the top floor windows in a June breeze. I saw us drinking wine and eating cheese in front of blazing warm fireplaces. And, without even saying a word, I knew my Dawg saw it all too.
We shall see.
Tomorrow we get a second look at a gorgeous 18th century house that we fell in love with last week. If nothing is seriously wrong with it (that is, beside having no heating, electricity, kitchen, bathroom, etc.) we will buy it. I don't know how I will feel tomorrow, but last week it was, as it is said in France, a coup de coeur -- a blow to the heart. So much so that I often found myself, staring around the property with my hand pressed to my heart, as if I were swearing an oath of fealty. I couldn't help it. Every time I saw something new I liked (like the master bedroom with the white light spilling across the dusty hardwood floor in a cold, clear flood), my hand would fly to my heart. I saw family Christmases there. I saw picnics under the big tree in the garden. I saw long, gauzy white curtains fluttering from the top floor windows in a June breeze. I saw us drinking wine and eating cheese in front of blazing warm fireplaces. And, without even saying a word, I knew my Dawg saw it all too.
We shall see.
