Once again I've managed to go AWOL on you... And once again it's not for lack of anything to say, more for lack of time. I volunteered for the search committee for our parish's new director of music ministry, not quite realizing how many meetings, choir rehearsals, and Masses I was committing myself to. I'm thrilled with the candidate we have chosen, and the experience gave me a new perspective on finding my voice again (which I hope to write about later).
The biggest source of craziness for me has been Omaha, meaning PPVI. The Friday before Labor Day I got a call from the scheduling nurse about scheduling surgery (which my phone promptly dropped). Not knowing her extension, I couldn't call her back; the voice mail and subsequent e-mail said to send her a copy of my latest chart so she could work on picking potential dates for my surgery. At that point, I wasn't 100% committed to having surgery again; I recover slowly; I didn't really see any positive effects from last year's surgery; I thought everything would be out of network and thus very expensive. Getting that phone call meant that we had to be certain - did we really want to do this? At this point neither of us has high hopes that having surgery will lead to me getting pregnant; more realistically we are hoping for answers, less pain, and closure. And are those worth the time, money, and hassle? Once we scheduled, canceling or changing incurs a $275 fee, so I wanted to be certain. On the long drives to and from my godfather's cabin in Michigan, we discussed and debated whether we really want to do this. Despite all my doubts and griping, the answer was yes.
Tuesday morning I got the call back from the scheduling nurse. If we wanted to wait for Dr. Pez, who wrote the letter I received, to come back from maternity leave, there was a date at the beginning of November; if we wanted Dr. H to do the surgery, there was a date in early December; Dr. K was an option, especially if we wanted to do this as soon as possible. I could get scheduled with her for early October. Having surgery so soon was an option I hadn't even considered; the possibilities were overwhelming. At the nurse's suggestion, I said I would get back to her on Thursday morning, since she would be off on Wednesday. After going round in circles for a long time and despite rumors of Dr. H's lousy bedside manner (if I could deal with the then team doctor for the Chicago Bulls when I was 15, who had a terrible bedside manner, I could deal with Dr. H now that I'm an adult, right?), we decided on that early December date with Dr. H. Thursday morning I called the scheduling nurse back to book that date, which was fortunately still available.
However, when she called me back, instead of confirming the date, she told me that she had miscalculated my cycles. If the last pattern of the last couple of cycles continued, the December date I would be looking at would be December 18, not early December. We would have to stay in Omaha over Christmas for the ultrasound series. This new information necessitated a new round of frantic phone calls to my mother and Husbandido. Round and round and round we went. Both Husbandido and I were strongly opposed to me having surgery a few short days before his 40th birthday. Neither one of us wanted to be in Omaha for Christmas by ourselves, but the October date was less than a month away. After colossal amounts of waffling and dithering, we chose October. There was one pleasant surprise during the process: either hospital option was in network, so we should end up paying less out of pocket.
Once we got confirmation of the date, it was time for the whirlwind of booking flights and a hotel (which required deciding how long we were going to be out there without knowing for certain how long the ultrasound series would take), arranging for time off work, and starting the hormone series (at the suggestion of the surgery/head nurse, who recommended I start mid-cycle, then pick up the CD5 draw at the start of the next cycle, so it would all be done before surgery). My boss was not happy with me for not giving more notice, which had me upset, given that I let him know the same day I scheduled it. Up until that point, I was expecting to have surgery in late November or December.
I've been stressed about the scheduling, about work, about being so busy and having no down time, about getting it all done, about whether the committee would agree on a candidate, and about my cycle. I'm sure there's irony somewhere in there: stressing about my cycle being weird could be making it more weird. This my third cycle off fertility drugs, and this month peak day was earlier than the last two. My post-peak phase has been much longer, too; it's P+10, and I haven't started spotting yet. The last two cycles my post-peak phases were closer to 7 or 9 days, with spotting starting much earlier. Now I'm waiting for the spotting and CD1, so that I can do the CD5 draw and get the blood out the ice cream's spot in the freezer.
Omaha, here we come.