Wednesday, December 01, 2004

A Brief History of Time...Volume 1

I figured that a good way to get the ball rolling with this blogging thing, online diary, or whatever else you'd like to call it is to start at square one and tell my story. I’ll only go back to the beginning of our TTC times, as really, what else has possibly consumed my life for the last few years anyway?

Volume 1: The Year of Naivety

We were married for about four months when we decided, not being spring chickens or anything, that we would start the whole process of building a family. By chance I had my yearly appointment at the same time, gave them the news that we would be trying, and went through the normal set of blood tests, etc, that any typical woman might have at her “introductory” appointment. They gave me a pat on the back, a cheer of good luck, and sent me on my way to procreate at will. I was just about to start a new cycle on the pill, but that would, of course, be unnecessary. Little did I know that it had probably been unnecessary from the start, but I think we’ve all been through that scenario.

So we tried and tried…and tried. The first few months it was fun, and I didn’t worry too much about the fact that nothing seemed to be happening. In fact, the very first month I was actually scared that it would work the first time, and I wasn’t entirely sure I was ready. So the delay was nice in it’s own way. Then the day came when my period was late. Oh the joy. The excitement. The suspense. Now, being the practical type, I didn’t run out that same day for an HPT. Really, I didn’t. I actually waited a whole week. (I am way too cool for this, right?) So, I pee on the stick, and wait, and wait, and wait. And there, yes it must be, see if you squint and all…was the faintest possible distinction of a line that ever existed in the history of HPTs. Ever. Three days later I was bleeding fast and furious and awful. At that point I had already called my doctor’s office for the prenatal appointment, so when I called back about the bleeding they sent me to the emergency room. Imagine my embarrassment when both a urine and blood test came back negative, revealing that I had gone to the emergency room because I got my period . Which, as everyone knows, is a crisis and requires emergency care. Right?

So, on to continuing the journey. Soon after my 10 days of hope I noticed a strange mole on my leg. Being of northern European descent, I have to keep an eye on these things, so I went off to the dermatologist. Melanoma. Do not pass Go; do not collect $200. At that point we were thankful that our efforts at TTC had not worked because I’d be faced with a heck of a situation. I had surgery to remove almost a fist worth of tissue out of my leg plus a lymph node, chilled out on Vicodin for a few days, and then went on with my life because, thankfully, it had all been contained within the original biopsy area. Rule #1 of my life now- wear sunscreen!

When the one-year mark rolled around and our respective rolling around had produced nothing, I returned to the doctor, head hung low, and waited for the magic solution to be delivered.

To be continued in Volume 2…

5 comments:

The Barrenness said...

Dish, looking forward to Vol. 2. Please wear that sunblock. Solabar is good. I'm wishing you a cancer-free future. I understand what it feels like to be TTC, and then hit with a barrage of FM's (Freakish Maladies). Since my DH and I have begun our quest, I have had: 1&2) 2 tongue biopsies on the underside, backside of my tongue (where it attaches to throat tissue)--both results negative. I have a callous, not cancer; 3) been diagnosed with Chronic Fatigue Syndrome because of round #2 of Epstein-Barr Virus--this is harmless yet fatiguing; 4) really crappy allergies--the worst eczema and asthma in my life; 5) been diagnosed with hypothyroidism--this was concurrent with the EBV. I was going to bed at 4:30pm; 6) a root canal for a freakish tooth "break", 7) a repair of the "botched" root canal--Why the hell didn't he put a crown on in the first place?; 8) an HSG--a fallopian tube clearing x-ray thingy, 9) a D&C, 10) a hysteroscopy; 11) a laparoscopy; 12) a hydrotubation to clear the tubes AGAIN; 13) a very strong & unpleasant vaginal reaction to topical progesterone; and 14) several bouts of pink eye--I blame it on those disease incubating first graders with which I frequently work.

All these procedures have occurred within the past 3 years of my life. Now, they're talking sonohystogram (or something to that effect) to look at, and possibly clear, my tubes again. Help, I feel like an unfinished science experiment! Call me Franken-barrenness!

dish said...

Barrenness-

Shit, you have really been through the works! What a complete nightmare. I'm going to have to read your blog to get "the rest of the story" as they say. I'll be coming out with volume 2 soon. Work has been a nightmare- gets in the way of blogging!

Hope the SHG goes well. Mine was pretty innocuous, but they were only looking, not roto-rooting. Yikes! Keep me posted.

The Barrenness said...

Which lymph node did they have to remove?

dish said...

The cancer was on my thigh, and they did a sentinel node biopsy, which led them to a node in my groin area. Although the injection of radioactive dye into the biopsy site knocked me backwards with pain, I was glad to only have one node removed to avoid the drainage issues involved with radical removals.

The Barrenness said...

Sweet Jesus That's Awful! I hope you don't have to deal with any more of that ridiculous shit. Still looking forward to Vol. 2.